CHAPTER 4 - We Begin
Translations:
*U'zugh Zardel - Warriors of (U'zugh), Magic of all magic (Zardel)
*Ûdar - Wizard/shaman, magic user
*Ishrêm - Scarring, the act of
*Sharmêl - Scars of all Scars
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When Dori returned home from work, finding the door unlocked but the lighting stones unlit, he sighed. It was obviously one of those days.
Sure enough, Nori was sitting at the kitchen table, a ridiculously expensive bottle of liquor opened to the side of him with only one or two drinks taken from it, the dwarf's forehead pressed to the tabletop. It was like his brother was trying to drink away his sorrows but went catatonic half-way through instead. Dori didn't want to know where he was getting the alcohol, since he wasn't buying it, and Nori rarely ever bought anything legally. The elder dwarf figured this bottle would join the others in the high cupboard until he could sell it off cheap, since it was already opened.
"Nori," Dori started.
"It's Hari's birthday today. Did you know that?" The red head mumbled from his tabletop faceplant.
"Yes, I did know that. You did this last year on this day, and the year before, and the year before that, etcetera, etcetera, ad infinitum." Dori sassed back. Nori lifted his head and fixed a glare on his older brother.
"Gee, I'm sorry my grief is inconveniencing you."
"You gave the boy away. You have no rights or responsibilities for him. And he died near a decade ago. Pick yourself up and get on with life."
There was a beat of silence.
"His name was Hari. He lived and breathed; he had my eyes that I inherited from Amad, and golden Blacklock skin. If we'd been in a better spot financially, I never would have left him behind! I gave him up so that he would live, not die! Just because you can somehow go around pretending Kori never existed, doesn't mean I can or will with Hari!" By the end, Nori was shouting in Dori's face.
"Don't you ever mention that name again!" Dori snapped. "Just don't."
"Dori?" A quiet voice inquired as the front door opened again. "I'm home."
"Nori! You're here." Ori smiled at his fellow redheaded brother, breaking the standoff between the elder dwarves.
"Yeah, just stopping by kid." Nori smiled at his little brother. "There's a present for you on your bed." Ori rushed off down the hall excitedly to investigate.
"Nori," Dori tried again more calmly.
"Yeah, I know, don't tell Ori." Nori answered the usual order, turning away.
"Well, yes, but that's not…" The closing of the door behind Nori cut off Dori's sentence, "What I was going to say."
Dori brought his hands to cover his face as he struggled to compose himself before Ori came back out. Nori didn't return to Dori's house for six years.
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Albus looked over the training yard of the Shaman's School. Being the current holder of the Sapphire Staff; the staff made from the remains of the Rod of Romestamo; he was the Headmaster and thus had to attend the important events in the school calendar. Albus' granddaughter, Andromeda, would be taking part in today's Lord's meeting, as is her right as Albus' heir.
Today was the day for students, and prospective students, who wished to gain a master to become U'zugh Zardel, to show off their abilities. The U'zugh Zardel were the elite, the best of the best, at using their talents in magic for battle and war purposes. Albus' brother Alastor was one of the masters looking for a prospective student today, and Sirius, Albus' one surviving grandson, had chosen the path of U'zugh Zardel upon reaching his majority.
Most of the young dwarrow gathered and being put through their paces were of age, or very nearly there, maybe 67-68 at the youngest. Except for one. Tuni was in the stands, coolly watching the sparring matches and drills being run in the yard. And that meant the pint-sized powerhouse down there was little Harilaos.
There were no rules stating that a younger dwarf or dam couldn't take part in the trials, but it was heavily frowned upon to subject a pebble to the rigours and rituals of becoming a Warrior of All Magic. It was only allowed if they were truly exceptional and there was no other choice but to train them, for the child's own wellbeing.
Albus supposed with Tuni, who had no great gift with magic, that waiting the extra four years for regular entrance to the school for young Harilaos wouldn't seem like much of an option. The young dwarrow had already taken down one opponent and had just trapped the second one up to his neck in quicksand. The dam really would not be capable of helping her ward with controlling his abilities properly, especially if/when he got emotional, as children do.
In the yard below, the youngest participant picked up a flaming piece of a practice target that had been flung into his sparring circle from a neighbouring match-up and blew magic dense air straight across the flames. A near 10-foot spout of roaring flames shot out from the boy's mouth and engulfed his opponent who had been getting angry and belligerent at being overpowered by a Pebble of an Ûdar.
All activity and sound in the yard stopped, as everyone bar the young dwarrow rolling on the ground to put himself out, turned to face the little 21-year-old. Harilaos dropped the piece of charcoaled wood and stood looking uncomfortable at everyone staring.
"Get back to your matches!" Alastor roared in the silence. "You're not impressing anyone standing around gawping like trolls in sunlight." And the noise and activity level picked back up. The master overseeing Harilaos' match cautiously guided the young dwarf off to the side of the stands, while the medics retrieved his rather toasted opponent.
"You want me to take on the kid?" Alastor asked his brother quietly, once he'd limped his way over and taken the next seat in the stands.
"Hmm." Albus hummed agreeing. "If I can't find an appropriate blood relative to take him in." Alastor nodded, eyes both natural and enchanted gemstone, flicking across the goings on in the training yard.
"That was a desperation move, that was. The boy didn't know it would work, or work so well, but was willing to try anyway. The way his eyes flick back to the dam up there. Not like he's looking for reassurance, but like he's keeping an eye on an over-strict master, like he expects punishment if he doesn't do well enough." Alastor lead.
"Yes. Harilaos looks healthy enough, but there's definitely something not right about the way his aunt acts towards him as well. She hasn't shown any pride when he completes a challenge, or concern when the bigger students land a hit." The elder brother mused. "I'd hoped that Tuni would treat her cousin's child like her own when I left him there. Seems like I was mistaken."
"You can say that again." Alastor snorted. Albus gave his younger brother a droll look for being so uncouth.
"I will take a small sample of the boy's blood for a heritage ritual tonight."
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Albus stared at the parchment before him. It was bad news. While the child's dam's side was interesting (a Longbeard, descendant of Durin, through Durin V's son's mistress), the sire's side was going to be a problem.
Harilaos, son of Regulus. The newest student of Master Alastor, only 21 years old, who believed that his only option to get away from an emotionally neglectful, overbearing guardian was early entry into the U'zugh Zardel, was Albus' great- grandson.
And he couldn't claim him. Nor could the boy's blood Aunt Andromeda. And certainly not Sirius, who had been trapped in the palace since Tuomas usurped the Shadow Mountain throne.
If anyone were to find out Harilaos' sire, Lord Tuomas could claim the boy in place of his father, who had tried to desert Tuomas' cause and return to his family, who had been killed for something he had learned or seen in service of Tuomas, preceding Lord Marco's death.
Albus wouldn't put the care of a pet rock in Tuomas' hands, much less a young dwarf. Even less than that, Albus' murdered grandson's child.
And there was no one else he could doctor the documents to have them take in the child. The Black family had been whittled down to Albus, his two brothers (both craft-wed), his eldest grandchild Andromeda and her two children, Sirius, and now Harilaos.
Truly, the best option for the child was life as a living weapon, one of the U'zugh Zardel. At least Albus could get Alastor to leave Harilaos with his nearest age group in the open Shaman school sometimes. That way the boy might get some socialisation, make a few friends, develop personal connections.
Albus watched the incriminating parchment burn in his office fireplace, not for the first time wishing he'd never taken his family in the direction he had. While he couldn't have prevented Lili and Jamis' deaths, or many of the other cousins, nieces, and nephews, or even his son Orion's death from the pox, but for sure Sirius would still be here, not imprisoned with that dead-fish of a prince Ivan, and Regulus wouldn't have been hunted down and killed for knowing too much.
Regulus would have cried at learning he was a father, and Sirius would have ribbed him something terrible for his tears. But they would both be here, and Harilaos would have a home to go to. An actual loving family, and not a choice between a dam who doesn't want him but for money, and a military installation that will do their best to turn that little green-eyed dwarrow into a one-dwarf army.
Sometimes, Albus wished he'd not been the ambitious one of his brothers. Especially when it was his grandchildren, and great-grandchildren who now pay the price.
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"Was he not good enough?" Was the first question out of Tuni's husbands' mouth when she returned home with her nephew in tow.
"He was picked by a master. He just has to go through the Ishrêm tomorrow morning before he can be taken away." Tuni soothed.
"Hey Freak, did the masters pick you out of pity?" Didric attempted to goad the other boy.
"No, I was chosen by Master Alastor after I set the other guy on fire from twelve feet away." Harilaos replied, looking pointedly from where he stood, to where his older cousin stood, decidedly less than the exaggerated twelve feet apart. Didric looked to where his cousin was looking, taking a few more moments to get what Harilaos had just said.
"Amad!" The blonde boy whined.
"Cupboard!" Tuni snapped at her troublesome nephew. Quietly, the dwarfling slipped up the hallway, out of sight.
"Just one more night, Didi-dums." She cooed to her son, "One more night, and you won't have to worry about him anymore."
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The next day brought Harilaos already awake, and his few possessions packed up in a rucksack Tuni had bought just for this specific purpose, before the first morning bell had made its first peal. Breakfast was cooked and left out on the table for the later rising members of the household, by the young dwarf under the gimlet eye of his aunt, before he was chivvied out the door.
They walked through the city to the Temple of Mahal, where the priests would place the Sharmêl, the Scars of All Scars, the visual marks of Harilaos' chosen trade and a channel for the deeper connection to his magic, in ritual scarification.
Tuni was stopped several times by passers by congratulating her on having such an exceptional nephew, to have gotten into the U'zugh Zardel at such a young age. And wasn't he such a handsome young lad too. Every time she smiled and thanked them for their compliments, slowly getting bitterer and bitterer. The only compliments Didric received was for his blonde hair, quite a rarity in the Kazad, but that was it. Never for his achievements or skills. And certainly not for his looks. He, like both parents was rather at the average end of the scale.
But the boy with the name of a demon, always the centre of attention. Just like Lili and Moli had been. Both with bright, ruby hued hair and well-tended beards. Lili using her talent with Dwarven magic to become an accomplished healer; and Moli, though dedicating her life to caring for her house and children, had the celebrated accomplishment of having had seven of them, two of which were girls.
When Tuni and Harilaos finally reached the temple, the dam headed straight for the most surly and sour looking face she could find.
"My nephew has been chosen by Master Alastor and is here to undergo the Ishrêm." She succinctly informed the elder dam.
The old priest placed two fingers lightly on the young dwarf's right cheek.
"Go through and change into the ritual garments." She informed Harilaos. She then turned to Tuni.
"He's a powerful young thing, Mahal has blessed him much in his forging. Very pretty face too. He'll be much in demand by the young lads and lasses when he comes of age."
"Might that be a distraction from his Trade?" Tuni turned on the 'concerned guardian' act. "What would you suggest to remind him of his dedication to honing Mahal's gifts? Should his Sharmêl be placed more visibly?"
The old dam tapped the side of her nose, and Tuni began to smile conspiratorially, thinking she'd picked the right priest to approach.
"Mahal's gifts to me allow me to see into the depths of the powers of all the dwarrow I lay eyes on. Even you." She nodded. "It also allows me to see into their hearts. You're lucky Mahal's plans for that lad, match your own. You think it's one last act of vengeance, a last-ditch effort to close the gap between yourself and that boy, make him scarred, make him ugly." She shook her head, "The Sharmêl are one more step in Mahal's forging, and that boy, is a vein of mithril- he will be beautiful because it is His will, even with the Sharmêl upon his face."
Tuni went pale as the priest spoke and rushed away as soon as she stopped speaking.
The elder dam snorted at the retreating harridan and turned to enter the temple. The young dwarrow she had to lead through the Ishrêm should be ready by now. He had the most magical ability she'd seen since she last lay eyes on Lord Albus, current holder of the Sapphire Staff, and the lad was only 21. Seemed logical that the first of the scars placed should be one for power and strength. It was a very striking design, Mahal's gifts had shown her, and very telling on who the small dwarf would grow to be.
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All khuzdul words and phrases are sourced from The Dwarrow Scholar at dwarrowscholardotcom.
PSA: besides dealing with heavy topics like grief, murder, politcal intrigue, war, mental illness, etc etc, this work will contain SLASH, aka homosexual relationships, both between two males and between two females. Because love is love, and that's all there is to it. Sexual relationships aren't the main focus of this work, but are still up there in the top five. If you would like to read a het only fic, this one isn't for you.
-Vengeance