The Blood of the Great Wolf
Hello, welcome to me new series of legends and myths for the werewolves of the Vampire Diaries. I always thought that the show made them too shallow and pale so I decided to add some depth and color on my own, by telling the legends they themselves tell.
This is also my first try ever to write in a style that could actually fit a legend. So please tell me what you think. Reviews are always welcome.
Hear the truth if you dare young warriors. It is not pretty, that tale of our origins. It is one of greed and redemption, murder and betrayal, curse and loss.
It begins in the lands of the Far North during the earliest times, after the formation of the worlds. The gods and giants, elves and dwarves, all the worlds were just beginning and the great heroes and villains of our tales came into being. The great dog and the fierce wolf were newly chained, the dragon had not yet gnawed away so much of the tree's roots and the eagle had just nested in the tree's canopy. It was the time of great battles, of heroism never seen after, when it was so much easier to arrive at the banquet through will and deed — but too many beings of that age far too often sought power they should not possess, rather than achieve true greatness.
Long ago a clan of humans had adopted the practice of donning the skins of the great beasts of prey and going into battle with great ferocity. They marched with the images and furs of the beasts they had slain and sometimes with the living beasts at their sides — leading a force of warriors that could crush the will of the enemy by simply being there.
Even under the growing threats of the darkening age, they remained resolute. Their armies could not be defeated and they had reasons to be proud, as their victories were as numerous as the stars under the sky. But over time their lives became troubled and their power waned. Each battle demanded high sacrifice and left most of them utterly defenseless, struck down by their loss of power afterwards. This left them vulnerable and required that the warriors bred with outmost violence, making their enemies more numerous by the day. The wisest among them sought desperately for an answer since none wanted to abandon their cherished traditions.
The warriors cherished the bear above all else and donned its fur the most. The warriors lived under a set of laws. A bear could not be killed without a life-debt being paid to the other bears and without the killer paying for a sumptuous funeral for the bear. And so every bear skin was connected with the life-debt of looking out for the bears of the region. The warriors sought not only to use the bear's skin; they wanted to have its strength. The argued that with the strength of the bear they would be able to crush their enemies and more of their numbers would survive future battles. But despite years of hard labor and searching into strange realms no answer was found. Their enemies drew ever closer, encircling the warriors like an ever tightening snare.
At their darkest hour one of their elders suggested a path they had never dared to take. For ages, they had slain the trolls whenever they could find them, but now this elder suggested they should seek their aid. Despite their ways, the trolls were knowledgeable in the ways of magic and secrets forgotten by others. Many were against this proposal but the elder made them see reason. They had wandered to the dwarves and the elves, they had consulted gods and giants and they had wandered to all the worlds save for the home of the dead. They were refused by all, save for the ones whom they never dared to ask.
They finally found and captured one of the trolls, an old witch, gnarled beyond her years, and brought her before the elders. The she-troll agreed to share with them her secret knowledge, if the warriors agreed to feed her for the rest of her life so she may never go hungry again. The elders saw little choice but to agree. As the pact was sealed by blood they began listening to the whisperings of the old troll which she had brought forth over the years by constant travelling between the worlds and especially the home of the dead. They did not know at the time but what the troll revealed to them would forever poison their hearts.
The troll taught them that there was only one way of gaining the power they sought; by drinking the blood of a powerful being outside of the world of human and that she know of only three such beings that had the strength to deliver blood that was powerful enough but were not wise enough to be undefeatable by men: the great serpent in the oceans, the blood-stained dog that guarded the gate to the dead and the great wolf lying in chains at the river Van. She taught them in which way the blood had to be taken from the beasts and what runes each member of their clan would have to carry so each of them would gain the power as long as even a single man drank from it. She gave them one rune for the blood of the dog, one for the blood of the serpent and one for the blood of the wolf.
With this knowledge, the elders formed a bold plan. First, they gathered the best hunters and warriors among them, and they branded every man and boy of right age with the runes the troll had given them.
Those chosen men were split into two bands: one would journey to the land of the dead and confront the mighty dog, the other one would travel to the river to gain the blood of the great wolf. Those who journeyed to the land of the dead were never heard from again.
But those seeking the blood of the wolf were victorious. They never returned but months after their departure when the clan was under siege and their enemies ready to deliver the killing blow the men and boys left behind felt the runes of the wolf burn on their skin and they felt its power course through their veins. They gained incredible strength and speed, coupled with a rage and lust for battle hitherto unknown to them. With this power they turned on their enemies; scores of them falling even before the youngest boy as not only were they strong and fast, the blood of the wolf also made their flesh heal in mere moments. The warriors brought home many loot at that glorious day and the troll, fattened by the meat the clan had fed her all those many months congratulated them and reminded them of their pact sealed with blood.
But the elders had other plans. They knew that if the troll knew how to grant them their power she would know how to take it from them as well and so their leader drove a knife through her heart. He knew that she would not die as quickly as a human would but dying she would. But instead of ravaging or pleading for a swift death, the troll squealed with glee. When the elders demanded an answer she splat her foul blood at them. She told them that she would die with joy because the blood they had drunken had not just granted them strength and speed but also cursed them and their descendents for all eternity. When the leader demanded to know the truth from her, she simply smiled and passed on to the land of the dead.
Some among the clan were worried about the old trolls dying words. She had never lied so far and every time she had made a prediction that prediction had come true. But with his followers ready for even more glory and his enemies dead, the leader and his elders spat at the old trolls words believing them to be nothing but lies of a dying coward. They would make war upon their remaining enemies and let the soil be soaked with their blood. The leader believed that by drinking the blood of the wolf their chosen warriors had granted them the power to battle the world.
But the death of the old troll had not gone unnoticed by her kind. She had informed them beforehand what fate would befall here as the runes had told her long before the warriors had come to seek her out and so she had let herself being captured. And although the trolls knew what curse had befallen the humans they were not satisfied with that knowledge. They petitioned the gods for a way that the slayers could be further punished. The Highfather granted them their wish gladly as the gods had to calm the ravages of the great wolf for many winters to come so furious he was at the stealing of his blood. The Highfather took the guise of an old she-dog and attended a meeting of the elders to listen to their counsel. There, he watched as the leader bragged with his victories and how his warriors had fooled gods, giants and trolls alike and granted them their blessed blood. One by one, the others joined in and none who did not utter the same blasphemies save the Highfather himself.
When the leader and the others were full with their arrogance, he cast off his pelt and rose up. The leader upon recognizing the Highfather pleaded for mercy but it was too late. The Highfather took the plant they used to decorate their houses with and cursed them to be its victim. The plant, which we call wolfsbane today, would weaken their blood and burn their flesh for all eternity. All the members of the clan were cursed to carry that taint. He also told them what the old troll had not, that they were cursed to transform into ravaging beasts, slaughtering men and beast alike until changing back or being put down.
With that parting curse, he left them. Soon after he was gone his words were to come true. Some of the warriors fell down in agony, their bodies distorting and the pain so great that all they could do was to scream their torment to everyone to hear. When changed they rose as mighty wolves falling upon their fellow clans-men and hunting and slaughtering everything they could find. Usually they changed back after a night or two but everyone of them and their descendents had to change from time to time from the oldest men to the youngest children. No one knew when or where it would happen but happen it did. Only the wolfsbane and mighty chains could keep them in check.
For centuries, the descendants suffered under the curse of the wolf's blood and their human families suffered under both the burning of the wolfsbane and the claws of what their lust for power dealt them. Until the Moon took it into his heart to save us. Some say he fell in love with one of us who was doomed to become a wolf, others whisper that the depredations of the darkening age drew him to forgive us. He offered us a challenge. If the mightiest of us could hunt down the great serpent of the sea the Highfather would forgive us.
Our ancestors struggled long under this quest, but finally they saw success and through countless sacrifices we managed to persuade him. The Oath of the Warrior was sworn, and the hammremir came to be. The Moon petitioned the Highfather and he granted us two blessings. The first was that the blood of the Wolf would only be awakened in them if they slew the blasphemers among the humans. Also he imprisoned our wolves, so as long as we live they can only come out when the face of the moon is full on the night sky. We honor the moon and the Highfather in the Oath and hope to set right our ancestors' sins by protecting this world from the elements that corrupts it.
But, as you can see, young one, this task is still not done. They have spread lies about our kind, convincing lies. Now only a few of us know the true story of how we came to be.
They would tell you that you were cursed by their dead god or their devil, that you are the descendent of cannibals or shamans, that you were wolves once taking on human shape, but these are all lies.
We are the accursed descendants of humans, from a time when legends walked more openly on the earth, but born of sin. It is time to face that.
Our ancestors lived in a land far from here, which name is forgotten now; they were proud warriors but took more than the fates had granted them.
In our ancestors' greed, they sought to use the power of the great wolf. The blood of giants and gods and its terrible strength and rage cursed through our bodies. In their desire to rise above the humans, they were cursed to become murderous beasts. For centuries, our folk wandered the globe, and we were the foundation of werewolves of common folklore. The moon, he came to us and challenged us to find the great serpent. He told us that we had proven ourselves to be the worst that human and beast could offer. If we could complete this task, the Highfather would give our lives meaning, order and balance again. We succeeded, and he gave us the Oath of the Warrior, but, more than that, he gave us purpose, we were to protect our world. He chained our beasts away and made us what we are today. But be warned brothers, the wolves always lurk inside our minds, your strength and speed, as well as your terrible anger are signs of them being active inside you.