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A winter's tale	By : darkangel985 Category: S through Z > Sleepy Hollow Views: 18378 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
So many reviews, you
guys are simply the best. Thanks to EriksBlue, Miku, DaemonDaughter,
Vampirezdarkgurl and Pepper. I'll try to make my chapters a bit
longer in the future, but I also don't want to stretch things out too
long, since that gets boring too. Parts of
this chapter will be like the first one, just from another point of
view. The translations can once again be found at the end of the
chapter.

Chapter 7 – Past unveiled

Ichabod slowly went
down the stairs that led to the kitchen, not paying attention to
anything but his own thoughts. Thoughts that were focused
on his dream and the Hessian's cloak that had been wrapped around him
when he awoke this morning.

It still smelled like
earth and horses and Ichabod had felt the urge to bury his nose in
the dark fabric. But he had resisted, quickly shoving the coat under
his bed to get it out of his sight. Unfortunately not seeing it
hadn't been enough to get the smell and feel of it out of his mind
and so the Constable was wondering if he should go back to the tree
of the dead and return it to it's owner.

As he entered the
kitchen Katrina asked something of him, but he automatically replied
without really noticing what she had said. Katrina, who had held his
attention and affection when he had arrived in Sleepy Hollow had
become insignificant, a pale ghost that lived with him but didn't
matter at all. Not even looking in her direction Ichabod sat down on
the windowsill, staring out at the dark outline of the Western woods.

His will to return the
coat wasn't the only thing that drew him towards the dark forest,
his mind as well as his body intrigued by the person the horseman had
been in his human life. But he still didn't understand enough about
his dreams to give in to the pull completely.

Why did he look like
himself in those strange memories when he knew for sure that it
wasn't really him? What was his connection to the horseman? At first
Ichabod had believed that it must have something to do with the fact
that he had given the Hessian his head back, but the connection
obviously ran far deeper.

How he knew that he
couldn't say, but it felt as if slowly but surely not only his body
and mind, but also his heart was taken in by the horseman. Or rather
by Friedrich, the man the Hessian had been before.

Katrina had once again
spoken, but Ichabod hadn't registered the words. Only when the
kitchen door closed with a loud bang did he notice her absence and
the fact that she had obviously left in anger. Anger that was
probably directed at him and was clearly visible in her stride as she
walked past the window. For a moment Ichabod wished that he could
feel about her as strongly as he should, but deep inside he knew that
he never would.

His heart was already
too corrupted by his nightly fantasies, by the pleasure and feelings
he experienced there. The little voice in the back of his mind
suggested that all of that could turn from fantasy to reality if he
would only go to the tree of the dead, but he wasn't ready to listen
to it yet.

While he had been lost
in his musings after Katrina had left his attention had momentarily
shifted away from the forest's edge, but
now his gaze was once again trained on the dark trees. Had something
just moved there? Ichabod decided to blame it on his anxiousness, but
as soon as he had convinced himself that there had been no movement
at all, a black horse stepped out of the trees.

He didn't need to see
the horse's fiery red eyes to recognize it as Daredevil, he simply
knew that it was him. For once the steed was devoid of it's rider,
patiently waiting at the edge of the forest.
His head was lifted proudly, gazing in the direction of the Van
Tassel mansion.

And even though Ichabod
knew that it was impossible he felt as if Daredevil was staring right
at him, his gaze sending shivers down the Constable's spine.
Daredevil suddenly tilted his head, quickly turning it towards the
forest and back
again several times, almost as if he was bidding Ichabod to come.

Without having realized
what he was doing Ichabod had risen from the windowsill, turning
towards the stairs to go up and fetch the Hessian's coat. He had even
climbed the first few steps, when the voice of young Musbeth suddenly
shook him out of his trance, inquiring if he was alright.

“Yes, everything is fine.”
Shaking his head Ichabod walked back to the window, but Daredevil had
already vanished again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day had
rushed by quickly as Ichabod was forced to accompany Katrina to a
meeting with the new notary. While his future fiancée had
discussed the particularities of their engagement and set the date
Ichabod had quietly sat in his chair, trying to keep from fainting
and preventing a look of panicked terror to spread over his face.

Now that the engagement
drew closer he found himself desperately wanting to escape, but he
didn't dare tell Katrina so. Her mood was already stormy enough and
he guessed that the slightest confrontation would cause her to
explode in anger. She had already snapped at the notary after he had
told her that the engagement had to wait at least another month until
he had sorted all of the paperwork, which the old Hardenbrooke had
neglected completely.

Silently relieved
Ichabod had followed her home, avoiding Katrina for the rest of the
day and retiring to his room as soon as possible without seeming too
conspicuous. He longed to get away from her
and return to his pleasant dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he slipped into
the world of dreams Ichabod expected to find himself in the familiar
setting of the German castle, but instead he was sitting on the back
of a sorrel, the horse nervously flexing it's head. This alone would
have been enough to unnerve him completely,
but he was also surrounded by a grim looking army, the sound of
battle faint in the otherwise quiet autumn air.

Feeling the eyes that
heavily rested on his body he turned to the side, not overly
surprised to find the Hessian staring at him. The mercenary was
dressed in full armor, both sword and ax resting at his side. He was
still human, not the undead horseman that had terrorized Sleepy
Hollow, but he still looked fear-inspiring while he absentmindedly
patted Daredevil's dark mane. Until a small
smile spread over his face, momentarily breaking the facade of a grim
warrior.

Friedrich's voice was
strong and reassuring as he addressed Ichabod. “Wir reiten auf
deinen Befehl.”(1)

His head nodding in
quiet agreement Ichabod's body whirled his horse around, facing the
army of fearsome warriors, his sword raised in a silent gesture. Had
he not somehow known that he was the leader of these soldiers the
Constable would have trembled in fear, but since he knew that there
was no need to be scared he curiously studied them. They were all
dressed in the same uniform the Horseman wore, their swords raised as
battle cries resounded from their throats.

Their cry was still
echoing in the silent afternoon when Ichabod whirled his horse around
again, facing Friedrich and reaching out to clasp the older man's
shoulder. His heart suddenly beat so much faster as their eyes met,
overwhelmed and caught in the deep love and worry that shone in the
Horseman's eyes. Never had he had so much love directed at himself,
except maybe by his beloved mother. “Gib
acht, mein Liebling.”(2)

Ichabod felt the smile
spreading over his face, while simultaneously digging his heels into
the sorrel's sides, charging into the battle. The sound of hooves
rose all around him, Friedrich next to him and the rest of the army
following in their wake.

The fight was mostly a
blur since Ichabod recoiled in disgust every time his blade sliced
through one of his opponents. But he could still neither control his
hand nor the rest of his body, so he had to suffer through it, barely
managing to not faint from his horror. He didn't know much about
fighting and soldiers, but he recognized their opponent's uniforms as
being American, thus guessing that they were fighting their war for
independence from England.

Ichabod was still lost
in his musings when his horse suddenly spooked, throwing him down
into the mud of the battle field. He barely managed to get up on his
feet before an American soldier attacked him, his expression grim and
determined. Their swords clashed together as Ichabod's body tried to
deflect the other's blows, a desperate call for Friedrich slipping
from his lips.

Out of the corner of
his eyes he could see Daredevil thunder towards them, but just at
that moment his sword was knocked from his hands, pain blooming in
his chest as his opponent's blade sliced through his body. Time
seemed to slow for a second as Ichabod felt himself falling
backwards, his vision blurring for a moment
as his heart stopped beating.

The shock should have
jolted him out of his dream, but to his horror the Constable found
himself still in the same body, now completely incapable of moving.
His heart was silent as he stared in horrified fascination, watching
Friedrich attack the soldier who had cut him down, his head dropping
to the ground with a quick move of the Hessian's sword.

Ichabod was both
fascinated and moved by the look of soul-wrenching pain that spread
over the Horseman's features, while he reached down and lifted the
dead body onto his lap. And then he spurned Daredevil to ride, tears
falling from his eyes as they left the battle behind, it's noise
growing fainter and fainter in the distance.

They stopped on a small
hill and Ichabod felt himself being lifted off the Hessian's lap and
carefully placed down in the dry grass. For a moment Friedrich's
expression was caught right between tenderness and agony as he
reached out and wiped the blood from Ichabod's cold cheeks.

And then he screamed,
so desperate that Ichabod would have cried had he been capable to. He
finally understood it all, the dreams, the pull the Horseman held for
him. And with the understanding came acceptance and calm as he heard
Friedrich cry out to heaven, his plea only answered by silence.

“Satan, Herr
der Fliegen, bring mir meinen Geliebten zurück und ich werde dir
auf ewig dienen. Mein Leben und mein Tod sind dein.”(3)

The words were unclear
to Ichabod, but he understood whom the Hessian had addressed and as a
bolt of thunder broke the silent evening and the floodgates of the
sky opened the Constable sat up in his bed, panting heavily.

TBC...

(1) “We ride on
your command.”

(2) “Take care, my beloved.”

(3) “Satan,
Lord of flies, bring me back my beloved and I will serve you until
eternity. My life and my death are yours.”
- 6
- 7
- 8
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A winter's tale