Under A Spell by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Under A Spell. -

   Bear shifted uncomfortably, the fleas in his deerskin kilt were biting hungrily. He shifted the bearskin cloak on his shoulders, trying to keep the more threadbare parts hidden. It had been ten winters since he had killed the bear and won his title. Now he himself was starting to feel as worn as his cloak.

  The eerily beautiful stranger was still singing, his strange hair, flower-yellow, shone in the firelight, and his smooth square jaw, beardless as a woman, gleamed palely. Bear scratched his own long beard and found himself wondering what beast the stranger's garments came from, then pictures formed in his mind, as if part of the song, and he saw fibres of plants being twisted together and woven like reeds in a basket. Beside him, the woman Snake was pulling fibres from a stem, and Bear felt that she could see the same picture. Across the fire Wolf pointed at Snake and snarled, and Bear knew that he had seen the picture too.

  The stranger saw Wolf's pointing and looked at Snake, who held up the fibres and twisted them together. The stranger smiled his warming smile and Snake nodded and smiled back.

  Bear made up his mind. He stood, looked around for support and then spoke the Words of Welcome to the stranger. Then he pointed at himself and said

  'I am Bear. What do they call you ?'

   The stranger stood and looked around at everyone, smiling, then he pointed to Bear and said 'Beyar' and then at himself and said 'Finrod.'

  Bear bravely tried the strange word, 'Finord' he said.

  Finrod laughed cheerily 'Nearly ! ' he said 'Finrod.'

   Pointing at things and naming them, with Bear explaining things and then remembering that Finrod did not understand the explanations, they sat all night; Snake fed the fire and Bear told Finrod the names of the people and the things.

  Finrod might have the face of a youth, but his mind was swift and powerful; he showed Bear many things, the lighting of fire with magic stones, the bending of a stick to make a bow, the twisting of strands of his long smooth hair to string the bow, the shaping of the arrow, the use of the feathers of birds to make the arrow fly, or fly straight, Bear could not follow Finrod's magic hands.

   For at last, as the dawn filled the world with colour, Finrod asked about dwarves, but Bear, being weary, was slow to understand; and Finrod reached into his sack and pulled out a flat piece of coloured hide, which he unfolded to reveal white leaves, large and smooth.

   He looked with narrowed eyes at Bear, then put the end of the feather of a bird into a little pot of black liquid, black as a puddle by the fire, and Finrod cast his magic using the feather of a bird as his wand, waving it over the white leaf, and there was Bear, on the white leaf, sitting squinting at the rising sun. Bear leaped to his feet, was he under a spell ?

   But Snake was pointing too, she could see Bear and she could see that Bear was on the white leaf, squinting at the rising sun. Finrod smiled and gestured to Bear to sit down, then he cast another spell, and there was Finrod, sitting on a fallen tree-trunk, smiling at Bear, on the white leaf. Both Finrods were smiling. Bear relaxed a little, but Snake muttered under her breath about wizards with unknowable powers bewitching them all...

   Then Finrod drew a typical dwarf, bearded, armoured and stocky. Bear recognized it at once, and told Finrod what it was. Finrod asked him where they had met dwarves, and Bear thought of the long years of journeying, the many strangers they had met, and said

   'Everywhere.' Finrod nodded, then reached into his sack and pulled out a flask and cup. He poured a pale fluid into the cup and drained it. He refilled the cup and offered it to Bear.

  He said 'It is wine. It may make you sleep.'

   Bear said 'wine.' and tasted it. Poor Finrod, the grapes the drink was pressed from had been off, the juice was not sweet, it was sour, it was rotten. He explained this to Finrod who laughed a great deal and drank two more glasses of the wine.

   Bear was surprised that someone with so much skill and wisdom could make such a foolish error as to drink fermented fruit juice. But Finrod spoke of medicine, and the magic of plants, to hurt or heal, and Snake listened intently, and asked him about easing pain, and he told her of the bark of the willow, which weeps as a crying child in pain.

   Wine, he told them, heals the hurts of the spirit; and his people, who lived on the path of the setting sun, ritually healed their hurt spirits in gatherings round the fire, when important events (Finrod gestured around him at the fire, at the sleepers, at Bear and Snake) took place.

   Snake nodded and said 'I will try your wine. Bear will watch. If all is well with me, he will drink.' Finrod smiled and gave her a cup. She found it foul, but drank it all down. Bear watched her anxiously.

   She felt surprisingly well. Her muscles were warmed and soothed, her shoulders, settling into a hunch, relaxed for the first time in years. Her spirit was lifted, she felt laughter bubbling up inside her, she looked at Finrod, he was grinning at her and she thought 'He knows exactly how this feels' but she laughed, and Finrod laughed, and Bear, looking from one to another, joined in, and people around them began to awaken.

    But Snake held out the cup and Finrod leaned over with a smile and filled it with wine.

Chapter End Notes

for the Halloween thing on tumblr.