50 Prompts: AU Silmarillion by Urloth

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Prompt: Meetings (Eol, Original Character)

Related to Prompt: Meat

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Eöl had heard of the cult of D’rak’tari; the Wolf Queen. It was quite old, harkening back to the dying days of Cuiviénen, and one of the more ambiguous religious groups.

There were a few devotees amongst the population of Nan Elmoth though you would not know them from Tata at a glance since they were a quiet lot who kept their religious lives quite separate from their public lives. The only sign of her presence was the shrine to her in a smaller cave-garden where a statue of a partly lupine figure twisted up from a neatly kept plinth, depicting her a monster with the body of a wolf, the head of a deer and the long serrated teeth of no creature Eöl had ever seen. There was always had a stick of incense burning and a wreath of pine at her feet but no candles or any light save the silver glow of the crystals that jutted sharply out from the cavern walls.

His steward had discovered the shrine years ago but Eöl had let it be. Whoever it was worshipped at the feet of the creature painted in myth as both monster and saviour, was hurting no one.

It was said that invoking her name could quiet a noisy child, sparing mothers the horrible agony of having to smother their infants to protect the greater whole.

It was also said she feasted upon Maiar and Edhil alike; a cannibal either way since lore could not decide which she was.

These two pieces of lore, a small shrine in his citadel and the knowledge of a few worshippers amongst his people was the most that Eöl ever expected the cult of the Wolf Queen to ever impact on his life.

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He met her on the way to Doriath.

There was not one way to mistake her for normal.

Her nakedness and the wild mane of hair that spread across the ground at her feet like seeking vines might have simply been shrugged off but the fact that she was at least nine feet tall and casually walking in the middle of a pack of wolves could not.

“Greetings Lord of Nan Elmoth,” she said suddenly, head turning and gaze pinning him where he had stopped in the deep shadows of the tree to observe her passing unseen.

Her eyes were the colour of star-fire; of the sparks from Mahal’s anvil which Elbereth had stolen and set up in the sky. Suddenly the bright fire of his wife’s eyes; of any of the damned golodh he had ever encountered seemed pale glass chips in comparison.

There was the taste in the air like lightening had struck and the constant whispering of the forest had silenced.

“Greetings Lady,” he said cautiously, for a being of power deserved respect until proven otherwise, and he wished to be able to return to his wife and new son instead of becoming an enraged creature’s meal, “I am afraid I do not know your name.”

“Mine people call me D’rak’tari. I am on mine way to thy citadel,” she told him, her language creakily archaic “to pay respects to thine new heir. Wither goest thou?”

“To Doriath,” he replied with a cold sweat breaking out all over his body, “I have been summoned by the King.”

“The King?” her head tilted curiously, almost birdlike. “Has Ingwë left his golden throne and rose tinted world? Does Finwë the dead visit? Or Feanor who is ash upon the tongue? Perhaps Olwë the coward is paying a visit to his brother or Elmo the would be. Oh! I know! It is Fingolfin the bastard!” she clapped her hands together in delight.

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and closed it once more.

Was she trying to annoy him or did she truly not realise that of course he meant Elu Thingol.

“I mean Elu Thingol… whom I’m sure you knew I meant,” he finally responded, straightening his back and refusing to cower. He had no time for word games or simple buffoonery.

“Did I? But there are so many Kings in the world and they could all be at Doriath for one reason or another,” she tilted her head again, taking a step towards him and then another. There was a gentle clinking and he looked down to see she wore anklets of bronze disks and knucklebones.

Not the knuckle bones of any sheep though, nor any goat but those of creatures with four long, grasping digits and one opposable.

“Why do you go to visit my son?” he asked.

“Well it is only the respectful way. He is kin after all, no matter the circumstances of his birth.” Her eyes creased up at the corners and she grinned, her red mouth a bloody slash around her sharp white teeth.

“Kin?” he asked, throat tight.

“Kin,” the wolves were gone, wild things that would not stand the company of any but her yet he felt no safer. There was no strangeness in his line, that he knew off, but of Aredhel’s he did not know. Who knew what happened over in those lands of constant light. Yet there was something about the creature that made him sure that D’rak’tari had never known the light of the trees.

“Alas,” she said, forestalling any further questions of his, “thou art summoned by Elwë and I must go forth for I have a great many things to do asides from greet thine heir. I do not know if our paths will ever cross again.”

 The darkness around them seemed to grow closer and she seemed to shrink, first to the height of an average woman then suddenly she was woman no longer but a beast so tall its shoulder was the height of his despite how it stood upon all four legs.

The statue, he realised, had been rather simplified. There was something lupine about the body, and the face had a more graceful touch to it that was more reminiscent of deer than wolf, but that was like saying a tree was more reminiscent of a bird than a rabbit.

She was her own animal, an utterly unique creature.

~Farewell Lord of Nan Elmoth~ she whispered into his mind and along the road she suddenly leapt and was gone from sight within the blink of an eye, leaving him to sweat and nearly sprint the distance back to Nan Elmoth.

He returned to his home to find a small state of uproar. A strange woman had appeared in the nursery; had been holding the new little lord in her arms and cooing at him when she had been discovered.

His wife was quiet and grim faced, hiding her shock behind a wall of practicality has she ordered the servants to seek out any hidden passageway the stranger might have found her way through. He took her in his arms and clasped her close, their son between them. Then he took his new born child from her and held him close, reassuring him with the feather light soft weight that his son was not exchanged for some changeling. The child lay quietly within his arms while he down into the already bright blue eyes that were shot through with brilliant silver, like lapis behind filigree.

“She said ‘oh but thou dost have his eyes little one,’” Aredhel’s breathing hitched as she forcibly tried to calm herself, “and then she promised him… she said ‘I’ll leave thee not for the carrion crows though thine name shall become a curse throughout the ages. For we who are hated must take care of one another. I shall be there as all turns to silvered glass for thee and thou dost feel the chill from beyond the Doors of Night. I will take thine hand and show thee the start of the Eastern Road.”

His wife’s eyes pleaded for answers but he could give her none at all.

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Chapter End Notes

This cuts off abruptly but I’d realised I’d gone way over the limit for the prompts. Woops. Sorry. Yah there’s a bit more but it felt even more awkward ending it there then where it’s been cut off.
Sorry.

The Eastern Road/Route. Another ficlet waiting to happen. It’s an alternative afterlife I made up for my Avari to believe in. It is based on the belief that as well as go West, one can also go East after death and return to Cuivienen where one can live forever in the starlit forests.