(( PLEASE NOTE : SOMEWHAT OUTDATED : Partial Re-Write In Progress ))
A Vocation Unexpectedly Discovered
Resting in the dark and comforting shadows of the great pine forest, Demelza's mind wandered, as so often, through the many aspects of the vocations that lay open to her since she had left her beautiful Lórien home. The huge pine-wood where she now reposed reminded her of her own forested homeland, and lent a certain peace and tranquillity to her thoughts, allowing her some welcome peace of mind, away from the hustle and bustle of the towns where she spent most of her time, investigating the various vocations she could choose, discussing the benefits of each, and yet finding herself unable to decide how she could best follow the path she had chosen, and the reason why she had left her beloved Lórien: her determination to oppose the Shadow that was spreading so fast, so ominously and so unpleasantly across the beautiful realm of Middle-Earth that she had, for centuries and millennia, called her home.
Many times had she sat here, in this secret hollow beneath an especially mighty stand of pine trees, hidden between their great roots from the gaze of any onlooker. Her dark cloak, the hood drawn well over her face, concealed her from even the sharpest of gazes, and her absolute motionlessness, part of the forest-lore she had grown up with since childhood, together with the patience, so typical of those of her Eldar race, which she had learned and refined upon these many centuries past, stood her in good stead as she simply rested in all quiet, barely moving save to breathe quietly and regularly. Her ability to hide herself, part-born, part-learned, ensured that none but a creature actively seeking her would possibly have noticed her, and the added assistance of a little magic she had picked up along her way, which the aged Elf who taught it to her had referred to, aptly in this case, as "Sylvan Shadows", aided her even further in her concealment. Every now and then a fox, hunting its nightly prey, passed unwittingly by within mere yards of her, or a raven landed almost at her feet to look around and scout out any dangers, without noticing her even with a bird's sharp eyes; none of the many forest creatures noticed her presence at all, despite their observant natures and sharp senses. When she chose to hide herself, seeking quiet contemplation, Demelza remained hidden indeed, and this night was no exception.
Tonight, though, the accustomed peace of the forest's stillness was broken by a sense of tension which, at first, Demelza did not understand; the woodland creatures, of ground and air alike, for some reason suddenly grew uneasy around her, with dormice, rabbits, hedgehogs and other ground-dwellers stopping, snuffing the air, and then, obviously frightened, scattering urgently away to the safety of their burrows; the birds of the air, too, showed their disquiet, leaving off from their normal exchanges of conversational or territorial cries and their hopping and preening amidst the bushes, instead flapping noisily away to safe, high roosts, squawking their fear as they went. Even the great silver-maned wolf and his mate, which Demelza had so often seen hunting as a pair, stopped in their tracks where they stood, a couple of hundred yards away; they froze for a moment, and then trotted away back towards their den, not casually as normal, greatest predators of this part of they woods as they were, but urgently, almost breaking into a run, obviously afraid. Within less than a minute, the forest had become as if deserted, with not a creature left moving anywhere, and an unnatural silence drew the air taut, making the absence of all the various normal cries of the woodland creatures uncomfortably obvious. In the unpleasant silence, Demelza knew that, whatever it was that had so frightened the forest-dwellers, her best and safest choice was to remain, if it were possible, even more still and quiet than ever, in the hope that the cause of such fear would overlook her and pass on by. Certainly she was, as yet, no warrior, fit to challenge any threat with arms and violence, and so she reclined in her hiding-place just as before, taking care not to reveal her presence by even the slightest of movements or sounds, until she should discover the source of the new threat.
She had not long to wait. A distant crunching of dry twigs underfoot, and then, as the creature neared her, walking down the long wooded slope behind her, the slight but noticeable sound of the deep breathing of a mighty beast, moving slowly, reached her from behind where she hid, hoping against hope not to be discovered. The sounds, quiet at first, but growing frighteningly loud as the seconds passed, spoke of the passage of a large and, judging by the slow and casual nature of its movement, very confident beast, probably well-used to other creatures running in fear before it, and, judging by its lack of care to conceal its noisy tread and breathing, probably also not accustomed to being challenged or attacked. The beast approached from behind, and Demelza dared not turn to see it, but soon enough it was almost upon her, so close that she could smell it as well as hear it; an unsettling odour it was, the sour scent of a mighty predator -- similar to a wolf, but far stronger -- a combination of its powerful bodily odour and the blood-rich, fear-inspiring scent of its hot breath, as it approached now within only a few yards, almost close enough to reach out and touch it, were one to be so incredibly foolish. In the forest's tense, unnatural stillness, then, Demelza felt as if she were the only living creature observing the animal's approach, even though she knew that a myriad of eyes and ears paid just as close attention as she did, from their places of concealment and safety, until the beast should have safely passed and they could once again resume their nightly rituals of prowling, growling, courting and hunting.
As the beast approached ever nearer, Demelza felt her fear rising, for whatever it was that grew so close to her now was not of the order of a wolf or even a bear; certainly animals capable of killing, and yet only creatures of Nature, without malice, killing only for food, or to protect themselves or their young. The beast that now approached her was not of this sort. Along with the animal odours and sounds it made, it emitted something else; a sense of ill-will, even of evil, which spoke of the desire to kill for the pleasure of it, to destroy for the sake of destruction. It was not an odour, as such, nor a sound; rather it was a feeling, and one she had felt before, given out unwittingly, and in spite of their attempts to conceal it, by such few creatures and Men she had so far met -- and had been pleased to get away from! -- who had chosen to take the Dark path and, instead of opposing the Shadow, to serve it and to become its minion. Whatever now approached her was not only mighty, as she could hear from the loud snapping of not just twigs, but small branches, even, due to the sheer weight of its body as its feet sank into the forest's soft floor; but it was also a malicious creature of ill-intent. This beast, she sensed, would kill her simply for the joy of it, and a cold sweat broke out upon her brow as she fought desperately to maintain her silence, trying and, so far, succeeding in controlling her breathing, which began to increase as panic approached. She must not be seen, that much she knew, or else it would mean the end of her life.
And then, suddenly, as the beast passed her by in its progression down the wooded slope, she saw only too clearly why the forest creatures had fled from it, and why she herself was so afraid of its aura. This was a creature she had only ever read about in stories and seen in paintings and drawings, or heard of in the fireside tales of warriors who always spoke of such creatures in tones of respect and awe, and sometimes, try to hide it though they might, with not a little fear in their voices, too. The creature strolled with confidence, as though it owned the forest; slowly and carelessly it passed her by, mere feet away now, its powerful stench and its sense of malice both becoming almost overwhelming. Obviously not caring whether it be seen and heard or not, knowing that no creature of this forest could even hope to oppose it, it breathed loudly, slowly and deeply with mighty lungs in a deep-barrelled chest, and beneath its pelt, thick and silver-coloured, rising in a high ridge along its spine between huge and powerful shoulders and gleaming in a shaft of moonlight which suddenly picked it out in awful detail, there rippled great muscles powerful enough to rend any natural creature limb from limb. It held its great maw slightly open, revealing razor-sharp, yellowed fangs that would shred flesh and crush bone effortlessly, and its eyes, narrowed balefully, gleamed with a ghastly reddish light, as, for some reason, it stopped in its casual stroll and its muscles stiffened, something ahead obviously drawing its attention.
It was, Demelza saw with unspeakable terror, a Warg Hunter, and a particularly large and powerful one, at that. Why this creature, normally to be found in its hunting-grounds amidst the herds of aurochs in the-flung reaches of the North Downs, where only the most courageous and accomplished of warriors dared to travel and to brave their attacks, should have wandered here, she did not know, nor especially did she care, although it could only be yet another sign of the increasing spread and influence of the Shadow that such a beast now roamed the forests of Evendim. Demelza could hardly believe that she still lived, so close she was to such a dangerous and malicious beast; it could only be the creature's absolute sense of confidence, and lack of care as to whether it be discovered or not, knowing its own great power, that had caused it to overlook her admittedly concealed, yet still, surely, to this beast, apparent existence. And what had caused the Warg to stop in its tracks as it had, and to stand, so openly visible, right there before her, in the bright shaft of moonlight? All around her, the tension in the forest was almost palpable, as, no doubt, every forest-dwelling creature wondered the same, and, like her, waited with terrible fear for the beast to pass by without discovering them and, with one slash of its long, hooked claws, or one savage bite of its massive jaws, ending their lives, be it for food or, of course, this being a Warg, simply for enjoyment. A low, rumbling and horribly ominous growl issued from the mighty predator before her. Obviously some foolish, mad or otherwise driven creature had taken the apparently life-ending step of opposing this awesomely powerful and frighteningly malicious beast, for it now stood in a challenging attitude, its huge muscles held taut, ready either to defend itself or to spring forward and attack. Narrowing its glowing eyes even further in rage that it should be opposed, it laid its ears back in a gesture of furious contempt and drew back its lips in a ghastly, twisted snarl of anger as the warning growl emanating from its great chest echoed in the unnaturally silent forest glade.
With the greatest of care to keep her head still and her breathing low, and moving nothing but her eyes, Demelza dared a sideways look to see what creature it could be that had been rash enough to actually attempt to withstand this enormous, vicious brute. And then she understood. For there, looking now pathetically small and feebly weak, although normally an alarming and dramatic sight, worthy usually of respect, in an attitude also of defiance, there crouched the female of the pair of wolves which normally ruled this part of the forest, trying, and failing, to make herself look as threatening as possible, her hair bristling, her own eyes narrowed and ears laid flat, her own, normally fearsome, but now seemingly harmless, fangs laid bare in a snarl meant to seem warning, but appearing merely small and harmless in comparison with the mighty Warg's vast maw. Why on Earth had the she-wolf done this, taken this apparently suicidal step when she could have remained hidden...? And then Demelza suddenly remembered ... not a hundred yards away from here, and right in the path of the mighty Warg, the wolves' den lay, and within that den, their litter of cubs, newborn and helpless, and obviously the reason why the wolf was attempting, no matter with what futility, to halt the Warg's progress. The cubs would be mewling, and, unable to keep them quiet, the she-wolf had instead chosen to try to protect them by making this hopeless, yet courageous and laudable, stand against overwhelming odds, obviously hoping desperately that, maybe even by laying down her life, she could divert the fearsome Warg away from her cubs before it could hear them and, no doubt for its own amusement, end their tiny lives almost as soon as they had begun.
And so the two beasts stood, in a moment of awful, frozen tension. Demelza, her heart weeping for the apparently certain death of such a brave wolf-mother, no doubt closely to be followed by those of her defenceless cubs as well, wished desperately that she had some way to halt the Warg; to kill it or drive it away; somehow to stop it from doing what it was obviously about to do, as it growled contemptuously at the wolf before it, seeming so small and harmless -- as indeed, as far as the Warg was concerned, it was. But Demelza had no such means at her disposal; even to reveal her own presence would simply have meant that she would join the she-wolf in death at the claws and fangs of the Warg; and so she prayed desperately to her own patron deity, Elbereth Gilthoniel, that somehow, from somewhere, a miracle would occur, and the scene she seemed about to be forced to witness would, she knew not how, be averted.
Unwilling to watch any longer, Demelza closed her eyes, still fervently praying, yet having little hope of her prayers being answered. And then she heard the very last thing she imagined she would hear at that point, alone as she thought she was in the forest, many miles from any kind of civilisation. She heard the war-cry of a warrior, loud and strong, and near at hand, too; echoing proudly amongst the trees in challenge to the huge Warg, which, in its arrogance and certainty of being the mightiest creature for miles around, had obviously not been paying close enough attention to the sounds and smells around it, and had overlooked the possible presence of a two-legged enemy out here in the wilds of the forest. Demelza opened her eyes in astonishment, and the Warg, also, shifted its attitude, as did the she-wolf; both creatures turned their attention briefly away from each other to what could well be a foe to end both of their lives, seeking the source of the war-cry; and yet it was too late for the Warg, which, even before it had time to turn and face the direction from which the battle-cry had come, was suddenly and dramatically struck right between its huge shoulder-blades by a long, slender javelin which, flashing in the moonlight, buried itself with tremendous force into the beast's back, piercing right through its chest with a rush of dark blood and, in a split-second which seemed unreal, so unlikely had it been but a minute earlier, dropping the great creature heavily to the forest floor, where its mouth opened and closed once or twice, briefly, its glowing eyes registering now not malice, but shock and amazement, and its huge paws scrabbled pointlessly in the leaf-mould covering the ground, carving deep grooves in the earth in the mighty beast's death-throes.
The she-wolf took one long look up the slope, towards where the war-cry had come from, then gazed down for a moment at the now-dead Warg, its great body arched backwards in the shock of its passing; and then, obviously hoping that the hunter, whoever he be, would be pleased with this one triumph and would not further seek her or her cubs, and with an almost palpable air of relief, slunk quickly away, back to her now hopefully safe cubs, before the hunter should arrive to claim his prize and, in so doing, see her as well and -- for all she knew -- think to add her to his night's kill.
Demelza sat in her hiding-place, too amazed -- and still frightened -- to move, and gazed with astonishment at the Warg Hunter, such a terrible threat only minutes ago, now reduced to nothing but an impressive, but nonetheless harmless, hunter's trophy. It seemed surreal, the whole incident. She had never before even seen a member of the fabled race of Wargs, predators feared by all who encountered them, arguably the mightiest carnivores in the land ... and now she had not only seen one, but seen one close enough to have stroked its fur, had she been mad enough ... and also seen it slain! She was overtaken with a sense of shock, going into a reverie, almost, of relief and release of tension, and she barely even noticed as the Warden who had so miraculously appeared at precisely the right moment and had, so efficiently and dramatically, laid low the great beast with a single throw of a javelin, arrived and claimed his prize. She watched, still so well-hidden that not even his practised Warden's senses discerned her -- and anyway, it was not likely he would think to look for an onlooker so close to where the Warg had stood! -- too dazed to speak, as he expertly removed his javelin, quickly cleaning it, and re-stowed it, no doubt ready for his next kill, then, equally expertly, bound the legs of the mighty Warg together and went on his way, back up the hillside, taking the corpse of the huge beast with him; perhaps as a personal trophy, or perhaps for sale, for such kills were rare indeed and fetched excellent prices as trophies, once the taxidermists had finished with them.
She noticed that the Warden was an Elf like herself, and, although always difficult to age by appearance, that his eyes gave away a wealth of experience which could have meant he was old indeed, maybe even as old as her (although that was unlikely, though not impossible) ... or maybe instead of age, it was wisdom and experience she was seeing, and perhaps he was young in the measure of the Eldar. She was, to be honest, still too shocked and amazed by her lucky escape to give the matter great thought. But she hoped that, one day, she might see this Warden again -- to thank him for answering a desperate Elf's prayers on a clear and moonlit forest night.
Demelza did not know how or why she, and the she-wolf, had been chosen to escape apparently certain death. But there was one thing she did know, finally, after all the years of aimless wondering, of searching, of questioning, of seeking, and of finding no answer. She knew what her vocation would be. As she had seen the great beast struck down before her, she had, of course, felt a sense of relief and deliverance, and yet, even though the beast was, while alive, more than happy to kill for pleasure, and to do harm and evil for the enjoyment of it, she had also, seeing the mighty creature laid low and reduced from the King of the forest to nothing but a hunter's trophy, strangely also felt pity for it, as its life bled away before her. For, although she well knew that the Elven Warden's act had been one of great courage and noble heroism, and that the killing of the Warg was in every way the right and proper thing to do, sparing the world from at least one of the servants of the Shadow, yet she also knew that, for her, such was not the direction her personal way of fighting the Enemy could take. She knew, now, that, although her desire to oppose the Shadow had not diminished one fraction, she could never take on a vocation which demanded that kind of killing and blood-letting, be it of Wargs, or Orcs, or of Men of evil and ill-intent. No, her vocation, although it must of course include methods of opposing enemies, and of defending herself and aiding her comrades in battle, must rather be one of communing with the natural world, studying Nature's creatures and seeking their aid, and of learning and using the ancient and arcane methods, known to her ancestors, of harnessing the powers of Nature itself to hinder and disable one's enemies while others closed in and made the kill. She, herself, could never, she knew, stand triumphant over the slain corpse of an enemy, so she could never be a warrior, as such; and so she must learn how the very powers of Nature could be used to assist those who did have the heart to wield a sword, for without the might of the warriors of the Free Peoples, the Shadow would never be driven back.
She had heard of such people, those who understood Nature so well that they could call upon its powers, and its creatures, at will, although she had not yet met one, since they spent so long studying ancient books for the knowledge they needed, and also out in the wilds, away from people, communing with Nature and learning how to gain and use the aid of the natural world and its creatures in the heat of battle. They were called Lore-Masters, and in their studies, she also know that they frequently had recourse to the aid of Scholars, truly learned and wise students of ancient texts and wisdoms, whose aid could be sought when learning how best to use the powers of Nature against the forces of the Shadow. And so she would become a Lore-Master, and a Scholar too; she already loved to roam the wilds, living so long as she had in the beautiful forest of Lórien, and now she would devote all her powers to learning the ways of Nature, so that, while rarely needing to slay an enemy in such a manner as she had seen the great Warg slain before her that night, she would yet be able to aid those who did choose the warrior's path. A Lore-Master and a Scholar. Yes. Her choice, after centuries of wondering, was made.
Demelza of Lórien - Friend of the Wild and Lady of Streams
