Amin's story

[Stryder]

This is Amin's story from the beginning, just after he was born. Crit's and comments are welcome.
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The room was dark, dark enough that only the faint outlines of forms could be noticed. No fire was lit, and only a strip of light shone around a door at the far end of the room; in the center of the room, the tall black form of a man was seen towering over a shorter, lighter-looking shadow.
“Give me the child. You have no use for him,” a voice said, presumably the one of the man. He had the voice of a Drow, for that was what he was.
The shadow of the woman shook it’s head.
“I am his mother; I do not need a use for him. Nevertheless, I do not love him. I couldn’t, not when he is your son,” the woman said. She had the light voice of an elf, much like that of a flute, but hers was tainted with dread.
“You lie . I’ve seen how you look at the boy, Narvinye.
You do love him,” the Drow man hissed, mocking laughter in his voice. He moved toward the door, mail grinding around his legs.
“And if I do?” asked, her voice no more than a whisper. “I have that right. You, however much of his father you may be, never will. I doubt you are capable of any emotion, Mereth En Draugrim,” Narvinye added, and evil hiss to her flutelike voice.

[Stryder]

<--- More of story. --->
“Do you really think I’d want to love? Love is a weakness, something to be turned against you,” Mereth hissed between clenched teeth. There was the sound of skin on leather, and a choked sob. Narvinye dropped to he ground, her hands pressed against her face.
“Alright! Take the child, if you must,” she gasped, her voice hardly more than a pained whisper, “but he will be your downfall!”
Mereth laughed, his vulture like calls a source of fear. He replaced his whip to his side, still laughing. His boot steps were only slightly louder than Narvinye’s sobs. The heavy door slid open, scraping against the stone floor.
His armored silhouette blocked the light from the outside room, yet Narvinye’s blood still glittered on the granite.
“What have I done?” Narvinye asked herself, burying her face in her hands. Only fear had caused her to give Amin up, and she regretted her weakness.
Chapter One
Lashings

A young drow child sat on the stairs to a small shack, his coal-black eyes shining beneath his short white hair. He wore a tunic that looked similar to a sack, tied around his middle with a thick cord. His small fingers tapped the granite stair on either side of him, as if he was waiting for something. Yet, he was smiling. Maybe he was happy, but this ear-to-ear grin would not last for much longer.
The door behind him was hanging on rusty hinges, and the walls to the shack were made of stone. The house, it looked more like a small, run down, prison than the house of a daughter of the king. It had, formerly been the princess’ house, anyway. Now, it belonged to her husband, she was nothing more than a slave, and the mother of this child.

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