Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.
Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of), slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings.
Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.
Well, once again, thanks to all who reviewed~ Thanks to all who have been so faithful in encouraging me to keep writing - and a warm welcome to new reviewers! Thanks to: acidburned, Anarane Oronra, chukalitelover, Hrosanna, Coscoskanigi, soupcan, Chiharu-angel and DragonsFlame117. And others who PM and chat and rant about Hiddleston (you know who you are~) - a big thank you!
A longer one~! YAY~! You'll see how I've been affected by recent tutoring stuff in Earth Sciences. LOL. And also from watching my friend play FABLE once too many times. Hahaha.
Also... some mildly sexy times ahead... (=_= Loki! You're a naughty boy~!)
Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]
Chapter 45
Star-farer II
The world of Svartalfheim, the more critical scholars say, is a land of very little life. In the Chaos of Creation, it gathered to itself neither magick nor organic life in great quantities. Rather, it put value in hidden things, in the physical world and therein grew many materials – ores and precious stones and the like. A gravelly world with hard-bitten spirit, as the tales tell, it drew those fascinated with the treasures and dark things of the underworld. Dwarves came and the pale folk who had first been born at the Dawn of Time – an Elven race which was enchanted by technology, metal and the workings of inorganic things. Thus drawn to Svartalfheim, they built shadowy kingdoms in the desolate world.
For Svartalfheim is desolate, some say, a sister realm to icy Jotunheim – a study in contrast and filled with hidden fire. In other terms, a picture of contradiction, for there is promise in their steel-blue skies and blackened mountains and hills and plains of heather and gorse.
Yes, there is beauty to be found, even here. Within the few forests and groves of twisted trees, wildlife teemed. The sedge thrush and brown sparrow made their way from purple-headed clover to wild thyme to the rare meadow buttercup. Far above, hawks and various dark-feathered eagles or vultures soared, keen gold eyes searching the land for any sign of their usual prey – field mice, brown hare, the black-spotted grey snake or the wild ferret.
A quiet world in many ways and expansive – for the Dwarves dug deep into the mountains and there lived peacefully, building a kingdom safely protected against any who would dare attack Svartalfheim. Their neighbours and neutral partners, the Dark Elves, rarely built cities in their turn, relying on smaller networks of middling-sized villages and roaming clans who lived in the towers of technology which were their ships and, for some, the only places they could call home.
When Loki arrived, following the invisible, except to him, trail, he was struck again by how brisk the wind was on Svartalfheim – low and cool and fresh, yet slightly menacing as it spoke of dark places, the fate of those lost in the deep of the mountains and the destruction of the fires which poured out from the belly of the Realm.
...what shall we lay waste to, traveller...
...what Destiny do you twist...
...and turn within...
...seeking to escape?
It is an endless cycle, Loki mused, as with Muspelheim. With each eruption, with the churning of its internal fires, new ores and stones and crystals are formed. Destruction and creation all in one process.
He looked about him – but there were no signs of any volcanic activity about – only desolate grey-black mountains, running down with gravelly, boulder-filled slopes to a mainly flat plain of gorse, heather, grasses and reeds. The sun was now quite risen – showing it to be mid-morning, yet everything looked bleak to Loki's eyes, thanks to grey clouds which hung low, promising rain. A fretful wind tugged at his tailcoats infrequently – and from faraway borne on the uncertain gusts came the scent of rain.
The golden trail of the Alfheim spell turned upward and Loki moved forward, slowly and silently, until a black cave entrance came into sight, half-way up a mountain spur. Even invisible, the warrior-mage was certain he could not approach without alerting the Marauders to his presence. Futhermore, he sighed, no doubt they have some who wield magick or at least are able to sense more intrusive forms… With that in mind, Loki twisted his fingers inward while his other hand formed the Vanir rune for 'transformation'. With a quick whisper, Loki's tall, spare form dwindled into that of a common field mouse. Scuttling around the grey rocks nimbly, ever aware of the passing shadows of cloud and birds of prey, Loki made his way up the mountainside and arrived at the cave entrance without notice. Past two guards, one to the right of the entrance just inside and the other further back and to the left, Loki darted, hugging to the shadows. Within minutes, he was beside the captives – the fair-haired Lady Alynda, two young Elflings and another he did not recognize.
A Dark Elf captive… Loki considered the matter quickly, knowing time was not on his side. Now that complicates matters, particularly if I judge the boy's clothing aright – and the heraldic symbol on his bracers… if he is indeed a Dark Elf child related to fierce clansmen such as Toross, Vaeril or Malekith, there may be trouble ahead – for all of us.
The Dark Elf captive in question had been gifted with a shock of iron grey – white hair and dark skin. Black eyes glittered dimly in the faint glow of the large fire which burned merrily across the cave and around which the Marauders had gathered for a rest. Rough chatter and curses filled the cavern as the group retold their story, toasting the memory of three fallen comrades and recalling the glorious battle he had endured against the hard-bitten Elf Lord they had eventually slain. Food and drink passed hands – none offered to the captives who huddled in the opposite corner.
Loki contemplated his options: do only as he promised – to scout and report back, thereby leaving all to the mercy of the angry Dark Elves no doubt on their way, OR steal away the captives before any real harm could come to them. Eleven, he thought, only eleven bandits… but there look to be several experienced in some sort of magickal warfare… best move the captives first, then turn and fight…
With his mind now made up, Loki hastily scurried about and, using his tiny paws, scratched out five Dwarven runes in a half-circle about the captives. Behind him, one of the captives moved, startled no doubt at the sight of his activity, but then fell silent at a glance from Lady Alynda. Loki sighed, relieved that at least the Lady seemed to have commonsense, and moved on. As he surmised, the three Marauder mages did not react to the flare of Dwarven power, since most of Svartalfheim's mountains had long since been imbued with their essence. Although weaker than he would like and not as robust a spell as other workings, the image the barrier held would stand up to casual scrutiny and would project enough detail not to arouse suspicion. It was tricky, but Loki took an additional minute to weave a second layer of Alfheim magicks to create a sound barrier, hoping that the Marauders would attribute it to Lady Alynda.
Waiting for a minute or two, Loki watched the Marauders continue discussing their plans and pour out even more drink as they envisioned what they would do with their hostage money.
"O'chai'tho won't be pleased though," a tall Skrull hissed coolly.
"That is true…" agreed a grumbly, bearded half-human from Akarza, easily identified by his tel-tale purple skin.
"O'chai'tho has no sense of business," spat another. "Selling out and trading with Dark Elves and Dwarves, the o'ma'auzha!"
"Come, it is a good long-term strategy-"
"And the pay isn't bad-"
"Not as good as this payout! Heh heh heh!"
They all laughed.
"Those light Elves pack a punch though-"
"Good thing there weren't any of those damned Asgardians-"
"Ha! I could take'em all on-"
More laughter ensued, happily drowning out any tell-tale noise as Loki completed his workings, firmed up the visual and sound barriers before transforming to his usual form of Prince Loki.
One of the Elflings gave a startled squeak and was immediately silenced by the rough hand of the Dark Elf who glared up at the tall, slender, pale-faced man who now loomed over them. Loki, looking into the Dark Elf's shadowed eyes, knew that beneath the bravado lay a deep well of fear and suspicion, so without further ado, he knelt before the ever calm, if worn-looking Elf-maid and bowed his head respectfully, speaking in fluent Elvish:
"Well-met, Lady Alynda." He smiled smoothly, tracing a sigil on the back of her hand with his thumbas he raised one of her still shackled hands to his lips. "This is a dark hour, but I have come to aid you as best as I may."
"You have me at a disadvantage, sir," the young, yet serene Elf replied.
Blue eyes met green – revealing unforeseen age and deep-founded courage. Loki breathed a sigh of relief. No hysterical maiden to rescue, he thought as he cast a mild charm over the hobble about her ankles, releasing them. Things will go much easier.
"I am Prince Loki… Odinsson."
The words still felt odd on his tongue.
"Well-met, Prince Loki, Son of Odin. I am glad to make your acquaintance," Here, she cast a glance at the fire and then the other guards who were much more preoccupied by the song a half-Dark Elf, half-Thosan had struck up. "However, we must make haste – for they will soon realize the truth of your workings and the capture of a Prince-"
"I will get you all away at once-" Loki went to work on the other foot bindings, ignoring the manacles about their wrists. Binding sigils also pressed against their skin, allowing him greater power to take them with him when he attempted long-distance movement. "I will take you to another place not far from here and from thence, return home – excepting the young Elf lord."
At this, Loki completed his working on the Dark Elf who glared at him silently and with continued suspicion.
"Yes. Haste is of essence, for we spoke earlier," Alynda shook her head, lips tightening. "This is Palin, son of Malo, kinsman of Malekith – you understand–"
"I understand," Loki said swiftly. "Take each other's hands. Now."
Once the circle was complete, Loki shut his eyes and created a facisimile of himself which rose to stand back to wall, at the ready for any necessary fighting or distraction. This will be tricky, he thought and plunged into his work. On his own, he would have escaped long before then, but travel with others – even for a short distance – was filled with complications. Complications he usually gave little to no thought to. Murmuring the requisite incantations, Loki's grip tightened a little around Lady Alynda's fingers, but her hand remained steady.
He delved in and down – suddenly.
Plunging – diving – head first into the flow of magic about him – the streams and wide rivers of Ygddrasil itself. As he let the refreshing power flow through him, Loki felt himself connect just that much more deeply to Svartalfheim's Source, to its Soul, its power. From far away, as he could hear the warning call of his copy as the barrier fizzed in reaction to the green aura now pouring off of him. The soft voice of Alynda rose sharply – barely heard over the roar – and as if from far away, there was a loud shout, a sharp BANG as the shielding popped, a clash of metal and then, a brief cold moment of darkness before Loki found himself falling forward, gasping, releasing the hands he had clung to.
A few seconds later, the world came crashing down into painful focus and, raising himself back to his knees and then his feet with the help of a few strong hands, Loki was able to take stock of his surroundings.
The four captives had gathered around, sharp faces drawn with worry. Even Palin appeared to be torn between disgruntlement, concern and unwilling respect. Loki closed his eyes again, breathed in and out deeply, letting the world stabilize further before opening his eyes gain. Eyes darting about, Loki noted the markers – he had landed where had hoped – his initial landing spot further down and by the edge of the mountain spur. Above them, two bands of dark Elves were pouring into the cave from which emitted smoke and tremours, the sound of blasts and shouting.
"They are going at it," one of the Elflings finally managed to say, "but will they manage to subdue the bandits?"
"I am a clansman of one of the greatest clans of the Dark Elves – and my people are more than capable of-"
"Well, then, what was Lord Malo doing allowing such riff-raff to feel comfortable about finding respite in his lands-"
"Not thinking as usual, I daresay," the second, younger Elfling snorted.
"My father-"
"And what would you know of your father's intentions, second son-"
"Cousins!" Lady Alynda's light voice cut through the bluster of the youths like a knife slicing through hot butter. "This is no time to encourage pointless quarrels. We are safe here at the grace of Young Master Palin-"
"And not for long," Loki added with a murmur as a third company topped the mountain's edge and, catching sight of their small group, began to encircle them warily.
At the sight of their kind still bound in chains, several shorter, no doubt younger and more hot-tempered Dark Elves rushed forward. A blast of energy just barely missed Loki's head – which he dodged gracefully by tipping his head sideways but a hand's span, infuriatingly easily.
"They think you are-" Lady Alynda's words were drowned out by a roar of wind and rattle of stones which had been raised by a young Dark Elf mage at the edge of the group.
"Idiots," Loki grunted, already noticing the sigils and subtle shiftings of energy. "They will harm Palin at this rate – and we may end up bearing the blame."
Turning to his right, offering his side – a less easy target for any marksman or archer – Loki raised his left hand, revealing a pale, empty palm while his right fingers twisted in another sigil, this time Dwarven as he manipulated the oncoming storm and turned it to his will. Before the wide eyes of the Elves, a large Cebir-Gondlhug, a Spike-Stone Dragon, formed, rattling about the party in warning. It's long tail, lashing about, knocked back several of the oncoming Dark Elf warriors. Long spikes shot outward as more rocks formed upon its scaly body as other boulders and pebbles were pulled into the storm.
"Dareth! Wyrran! Pull back this instant!"
"It is Father!" Palin turned to Loki, eyes widening at the flame of war and magic kindled within the warrior-mage's brilliant green eyes. "He – He-" The young Dark Elf faltered at the power of Loki's gaze, at the green tendrils of magicks pouring out of the Asgardian prince. On either side of the Dark Elf, the two Elflings stepped back hurriedly, casting worried, pleading looks at Lady Alynda.
"Prince Loki," Alynda's voice spoke softly, soothingly. "I believe they are retreating. We are safe."
Immediately, the wind died down and the Spike-Stone Dragon subsided – crumbled in a rain of pebbles, a curtain of falling stone through which they could see the still ranks of the waiting Dark Elves now standing with their weapons sheathed or lowered. Finally, the sky cleared and all that remained was a resounding silence and a circular field of rubble.
A familiar looking pair of Elves stepped forward.
"Hail and well-met, Prince Loki Odinsson of Asgard."
It was Lord Malo and, at his side, Lord Cathor. Loki nodded stiffly, recognizing the two Dwarves whom he had bested at during the Bi-Centennial Inter-Realm Tournament.
"We meet again, Lord Malo... Lord Cathor."
"Indeed. Under such... auspicious circumstances, being what they are... I fear we may find common ground rare indeed and understanding a hard field to till."
"There is little to understand – or misunderstand – and I think you can already guess the half of it," Loki replied smoothly, gesturing to the three Light Elves at his side.
"A rogue group of Marauders, Father-"
"Silence, Palin."
"But... Father!"
"Silence!"
Palin, at his father's harsh tone, bit his lip, looked down and shrank back, taking the curt reprimand under advisement. No doubt the young Elf knew the consequences of speaking out in such exalted company, much less disagree with his Father's political tactics. Causing dishonour for his clan would bring the youngling much grief, Loki knew, and no doubt Malo has a slew of complicated plans in hand... This could become disastrous very quickly indeed... Loki said nothing, hoping the other Elves had the sense to follow his lead. We need make no mention of the Marauder's words, nor their apparent disputed loyalties. Returning to Alfheim with no harm done to any is the goal – and easily obtained if we have the sense to keep our tongues still on the more complicated matters – if we promise no vengeance nor blame on the Dark Elves present here, deserved or not.
"A rogue group of Marauders laid waste to a small village in Alfheim," Loki broke the silence smoothly, "and therein laid hands on Lady Alynda, daughter of Durothil, and two Elflings for hostage. A trail was laid by some Elf-mages and, leading here, King Dain and his court feared that they intended harm to their kinsmen – yourselves – as much as those of Alheim. I offered my services since reconnaissance is a particular skill of mine. Yet, when I arrived, I ascertained that your expected assault in aid of Young Master Palin would place the captives at risk, and so I removed the captives to this place and wish to continue onward unhindered."
"It is as the Prince says, fair cousin," Alynda stepped forward.
For the first time, Loki could finally take stock of the Elf-maid he had set out to rescue. He still did not recognize her, but found her blue, almond-shaped eyes, long deep-gold tresses and tall, slender figure pleasing. Her voice, soft yet firm, was smooth as honey and lilting like the song of a river. The Lords Malo and Cathor could only smile in response. Loki suppressed a smirk at how smoothly the words of the Light Elf-maiden eased the troubled waters. With bows, careful farewells were given. Palin joined his father and Malo gave Loki a hard look.
"We met in battle and tested your mettle, son of Odin. Today was another day – and again, you passed with flying colours. The clan of Malo is in your debt."
"There are not debts between... allies," Loki nodded graciously. "I look forward to our next meeting," he couldn't help but add a little smugly.
"May it be as... fair... and... successful as our last."
"Indeed."
With that, Loki joined hands with the Light Elves, opened the door to the Dark Ways and led the others through.
-0-0-0-
Upon reaching Alfheim, Loki felt a deep fatigue weigh down heavily upon his shoulders. Such a sense of exhaustion he had not felt in so many years. For so long now, he had lived with little to no challenge to his skills bar that one competition on the day of his adoption and the odd quest with Thor. I am out of practice, he realized with no small annoyance. I am out of practice... I have allowed myself to take this life, this peace for granted.
Around him, courtiers bustled, the guards and servants congregated in groups about the courtyard gossiping and those who had been preparing for pursuit of their kidnapped kindred laid aside their weapons and prepared instead for a celebratory victory feast. Lady Alynda was carried off by a gaggle of young ladies to take rest in the Queen's quarters. The two Elflings had been carted off as well to return to their respective families. Loki, left with the King, could barely respond to the words of thanks and exclamations of praise effusively heaped upon him.
The afternoon was spent with a short rest – a quiet nap in his quarters – which did nothing to alleviate his soul-weariness. Soul-weariness such as he always felt after a particularly strenuous use of unfamiliar magicks or when he had been a starved youngling under the heavy hand of Mage Opna and unused to knowing his magickal limitations. Now, Loki knew better. Sleep was needed – but there was no sleep to be had any time soon.
In a whirl of bright colours, glowing fairy lights, energetic strains of music – in vivacious dances, witty repartee, savory dishes and endless goblets of wine or cordial, the feast spent itself. At one point in the proceedings, Loki found himself standing before the hall and, as was his wont, telling the tale for the guests who had come to celebrate his valorous deeds. This was no hall of Asgard with eyes fixed on Thor and the All-Father. This was an audience who could – and would – appreciate the intricacy and efficacy of his actions.
Loki was tired – but this moment was his and need to be savoured and treasured for what it was.
And so he began –
"The world of Svartalfheim, the more critical scholars say, is a land of very little..."
[...Svartalfheim, the land of Dark Elves and Dark Dwarves...]
[...the land of broad skies and bleak...]
[...soul of Alfheim is sweet and clear...]
[...pure as a mountain stream flowing with newly melted snow...]
[...and the glory of Alfheim is its joy in Life...]
[...so close to the Heart of All Things...]
[...Yggdrasil...]
[...thus comfort is found in gloriously simple things...]
Later on, much later on in the early hours of the morning, Loki was brought, stumbling and spent, laughing and swaying a little, with the aid of two servants supervised by Lady Alynda, to his rooms. Upon arrival, Lady Alynda smiled and dismissed the servants.
"He is mine to tend to," she said gravely, her perfect, pink bow-lips turned upward in a quiet smile. "As thanks."
The young Prince found himself at a loss, for the first time in many years. Finding himself alone with the young girl, Loki looked down at the Elf-maid with growing realization – equal parts uncertain and amused and tempted. She was tall for her kind and although gifted with the usual grace of the First People, walked with a firm stride, showing a kind of ranginess more appropriate for a young Lord. He had inquired that evening about her and her family and had heard tell that, having lost her mother in an unfortunate accident at an early age, Lady Alynda had grown up closely with her twin brother in the company of Elvish warriors on the edges of the Realm. A rational, composed girl, wise beyond her years, she was entirely aware of what she needed or wanted. Loki could see the resolve in her bright blue eyes and in the swift movements of her hands as she helped him undress.
His hands were shaking a little. Fatigue, Loki thought. ...or something else. Long hours alone in the libraries of Alfheim and Vanaheim rose in his mind. It has been so long...
A brief kiss then as their lips met tentatively, Loki swayed forward, pulling her into his arms as they deepened the kiss, as her hands rose to curl at the nape of his neck. Dizziness swamped him then – either passion of the moment or the heady wine still running through his veins or the realization he had won or the surge of magic he had felt as he tapped into the foreign magicks of Elf and Dwarf. Loki did not know. Perhaps it is all of them combined... perhaps none...
Fingers fumbling, Loki managed to partially undress the girl before falling into the bed. They lay there – allowing the silences to speak and kissed again – and again. Loki, lowering his lips and tracing his tongue along the tantalizing cream of her long neck, paused there, muttering something incoherent about the lilies of the Valley of Alyndor for which she had been undoubtedly named.
He remembered laying his head on her shoulder, breathing in her flowery scent, face buried where her shoulder (her delicate collarbones) lay and then rose to meet her graceful neck and rounded jawline. He remembered closing his eyes.
He remembered no more.
-0-0-0-
The next morning was spent quietly – and much more fruitfully – once Loki dealt with the massive headache he woke up to. The two of them, after finding delight within each other and mining pleasure where it could be had, talked quietly on and off, glad to find enjoyment in each others company, discussing all manner of things beneath the sun.
Better than Glo-Glo, Loki had to admit, perhaps what could have been with Vessa... if... if...
He dismissed those melancholy thoughts and turned his attention back to the quiet girl, told another story and brought a small smile to her face. Many days would pass before the horror of her memory would fade – before grief for her lost father would ease. Loki understood what she sought and offered it gladly, taking nothing but the simple pleasure mutual comfort could bring. Later, their lips met and desire woke again, bringing with it a surprising, yet welcomed, renewal of bliss. Afterwards, she lay in his arms and cried a little and he cradled her, realizing again how easily words could fail one in such times. Perhaps, he thought, because words have no place in such a place, at such a time.
Parting ways after lunch, they made no promises and a week later, Loki left for places unknown, saying farewell quietly and respectfully. He clasped the arm of the King and offered words of peace to further bind the Realm of Asgard to its ally. He bowed to the Queen and kissed her hand, fashioning such fair words as to bring a blush to her cheeks – and those of her maidens as well. Lady Alynda, clad now in the simple blacks and greens of mourning, alongside her convalescing brother, offered thanks again and accepted a small kiss.
Before he vanished, he looked about the garden he had sought out for departure. A green place and full of variegated colours – above, a bright sun and pure blue skies. Such a Realm - who could not wish but to call it his own?
[...soul of Alfheim is sweet and clear...]
[...pure as a mountain stream flowing with newly melted snow...]
[...and the glory of Alfheim is its joy in Life...]
[...so close to the Heart of All Things...]
[...but it was not, never could be...]
[...home...]
HA! LOKI IS THE BOSS~!
So, some of you might be, like, "Why are we doing this side-story and not other ones?" Well, this sets up for later on when I write the sequel relating to Thor The Dark World and why Loki would know Svartalfheim to be the one chosen to go. Also, I just want to show how Loki has a) super awesome powers that extend throughout the universe (HA! TAKE THAT THOR~!) and I also want to show him in situations where he is winning and not losing and just being a nice good guy (if a bit awkward).
DiT: BECAUSE DARK TIMES ARE AHEAD.
KI: Um. Dark times? What dark times? (flips much further ahead) Ohhhh... those... dark times.
DiT: (looks smug)
Anyway, will take a week break here and go back and polish up the future chapters to make sure I've got the Thor-Loki stuff down pat. Heh. And also to recover from the overwhelming Tom-ness of my Tumblr dash... (Who thought it was a good idea to have him front publicity for Thor 2?) (No. Seriously. Who?) (Are they trying to kill me before I get a copy of the thing?) (DEATH)
Let me know what you guys think! Remember to review and vote on what side-story you'd like to see!
See ya round~!
-KI
Alien Glossary:
'auzha – fucker
Dou'ma – idiot
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium
cho'ai - lover
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore
Morning-star - a mace.
oma'auzha – mother-effer
oto'oa - big sister
udji'oo – a drug, like opium
Asgardian Glossary:
bikkja – bitch
Brenna-Fir – the Immolation
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"
Fiendfyre – a phoenix-firebird
Flauguna – flying feet/teleportation
Ginnung – the Void
Hiti-mothr – Flame Fury (also known as Lachruth)
Kaesia-Seithr – Spirit-Spear style
Koma a Aldr – Coming of Age
Kveykva-herklaethi – Light Armoured style
Laegja – the Immersion
Ofolr Leith – Dark Paths, Other Ways (crossing the Void)
Ominni-tith - the Forgotten Times
Rikr-Hringraevi – Grand Cycles of Time
Runa a Fyrsta – Rites of Initiation
Runa a Kelda – Rites of Spring
Runa'a'vetr – Winter Solstice
Saga-Vefr – Story-weavers
seithr - magic
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror
Skjald-borhyrr – Wall of Flame
Skipa – the Infusion
Skokkr-a-Mir – concealment skills, Box of Mirrors (also known as Col'ca-cenedril)
stormerki – mysteria
Tveir-Andlit – illusionary skills, Double Face
Velspara-Speki – the Well (of Wisdom)
Elvish Glossary:
skreyppa – slippery one
gargani – snake
fintalenir – trickster
vanwa – defeated one, impolite term for "loser"
caitahto – liar
curunar – fiery one
Lachruth – Flame Fury
Col'ca-cenedril – Box of Mirrors
Cebir-Gondlug – Spike-Stone Dragon