A/N added with Chapter 13 upload: I wrote this story (starting 5 years ago) to explore the off-battlefield lives of Shadowspawn, which RJ said very little about, and to exercise one of my monster-lovin' probably-Mary-Sue avatars. It's not a parody, but not meant to closely fit the rules of the canon world. The plot is wildly far-Fetched, and deliberately so. I've tried to keep the setting and style authentic, though I've tweaked a few Shadowspawn facts and invented many more. Some of the following chapters have notes to that effect. I don't own WoT or any characters therein, although I wouldn't mind having my own Dragkhar. ;-)
This saga begins in a village on the Saldaean Blightborder, roughly forty years before The Eye of the World
Prologue: Blighted Child
Flames painted Eran's weathered features with ruddy light and danced across eager faces of his grandchildren as they sat about the hearth. As Lord of House Wethrin, Eran had fought Trollocs in the Blight for threescore years, and the children loved hearing him tell of his adventures.
"…and we never found his body. My friend had ended up, no doubt, over a Trolloc fire, his death fueling yet more evil.
"I had thought we were safe, a mile outside the Blight. I learned that night to never let my guard down, ever. You shouldn't either. Even if you don't go looking for Trollocs, they'll look for you. Nowhere is safe, not even this keep can—"
The door opened and a long, horned shadow loomed across the room. The children screamed and clung to each other. Grim-faced, Eran reached for his bow—and then realized that the shadow was cast by a little girl. A pair of goat horns, roughly carved from bits of wood someone had left lying around, were strung on a rope tied around her head.
"Sila! What is the meaning of this?"
She clapped her hands gleefully. "I'm a Trolloc, I'm a Trolloc!"
Tearing the horns off, he cuffed her. "You should be ashamed of yourself. Covering dogs with soot and calling them Darkhounds, speaking gibberish you think is Trolloc language, now frightening other children! Go to your room."
She faltered. "But Grandda, I'm a Trolloc."
"No, you're an impertinent child. Go."
Tears in her eyes, the girl crept away. Eran shook his head. He knew Sila's father, a stern and ruthless man, would beat her, but what else could he do? The child had an unholy fascination with Shadowspawn, and nothing he said could convince her that they were foul, deadly creatures, intent on destroying the world. Somehow, he thought, she must be made to listen, and to fear the Blight.