Lore, Keeper of Legends
Chapter 3: Trial by Ice
Disclaimer: I do not own League of Legends or any of the characters involved except for Lore
The Boy continued his climb up the mountain, it had been three days since he'd left the Avarosan camp, seeking out an ancient legend he recalled from his childhood memories. Stories told of a powerful weapon that rest at the top of the tallest peak in the Freljord, and he was going to find it and bring it back to Ashe.
That is, if he could make it back to Ashe. He held up a hand to shield his face from the freezing winds, his arm was turning blue from the cold, but still he persevered. He knew he wasn't as strong as some of the other warriors, but he wanted to do his part, and he figured that if he couldn't even do this, he wouldn't be useful in any other way. Suddenly a howling wind pushed against him, forcing him to stop else he be thrown off balance.
"Please, Anivia, mistress of the cold, relent your northern winds and allow me to pass…" He said aloud, hoping that somehow, his prayer would be answered.
The wind picked up even more, nearly toppling him over, but he remained firm and took a staggering step forward, planting his foot firmly in the snow covered ground. He took another step, and then another, the entire time the wind howled around him, trying to topple him from the peak.
"Just… a little… further…" he said to himself as he continued to push forward.
It wasn't enough though, as his vision began to darken and his limbs began to weigh more and more heavily with each passing moment. He didn't realize it, but he was dying. His vision was so narrowed it was like he was staring at the end of a tunnel, the howling wind around him was quiet as he continued to try and move his limbs. He collapsed in the snow, but didn't feel anything. His left leg twitched in a command to try and continue walking, but his body was too weak, and he simply lay there, unable to continue.
Suddenly The Boy jolted awake, he looked around and found himself in a small chamber, a fire crackling warmly nearby, he was laying in a bed with thick, wool blankets covering him and exuding warmth around him. He looked around and took in more details of the room: It was made from carved stones, and a solid wooden door was situated at the far end of the room from him. He threw back the blankets and strapped up his boots that were laying beside the bed. He threw on his tunic and buckled it into place before throwing his cloak around his shoulders. He walked to the door and opened it slowly.
"Ah, you're awake," A voice said to him.
The Boy looked past the slight crack in the door and saw an armored figure standing beside the doorjamb.
"Yes… where… where am I?" He asked.
The man nodded, "Makes sense you don't remember. You were blue with frost when we found you." He explained. "You're safe now, you're in the fortress of the Frostguard. We'll protect you." He answered.
The Boy's mind was racing, he knew of the Frostguard, the ancient cult of the Freljord, ruled by Lissandra, the immortal Ice Witch. She wasn't directly at war with Ashe and the Avarosans, but he knew that she would stand in the way of a unite Freljord, and the Avarosans had decreed that they were enemies to the Frostguard.
"I see…" The Boy answered.
"If you're up to it, the lady Lissandra wanted a report of your progress. She said to instruct you to her chambers if you were to awaken."
The Boy nodded and slipped out of the door, latching it behind him. He looked to the guard who nodded his head down the hallway. The Boy followed his direction and navigated a labyrinth of twisting, winding hallways, until eventually he was standing outside a large, stone door, carved with the symbol of the Frostguard.
"If I were to guess…" he said to himself before slamming a fist on the door.
"Enter!" A voice called to him from the other side.
He pushed on one of the two massive doors and it slid open silently. He walked forward, and as soon as he was clear of the door's arc, it swung shut behind him.
"Ah… the child on the mountain. Approach," The same voice told him.
He slowly made his way towards the raised dias at the far end of the room. Sitting on top of the throne situated there was a woman with ice-blue skin and a long, dark-blue dress. Her face and most of her head was concealed behind an elaborate headdress of the same material as her clothes.
The boy bowed from the waist once he was close enough.
"Please… no need to be so formal here," she said.
The Boy stood up straight and looked at the woman for a few second before she spoke again;
"Do you know who I am?" She asked.
"You are Lissandra, leader of the Frostguard." He answered quickly.
"Smart boy… do you know what happened to you?" She asked.
"I was trying to scale the mountain. There's a story in my village of a powerful weapon that lay at the mountain's peak. I went to retrieve it to help defend my village in case of attack." He responded.
The Boy knew he couldn't tell her his true purpose, to give the weapon to Ashe and the Avarosans. She nodded at his explanation.
"How very fortunate that my men found you then. We were also seeking this weapon, and we retrieved it," She explained.
The Boy perked up at this.
"Do you know what kind of weapon it is?" She asked.
"A blade encased in Ice, True Ice." He answered.
She nodded "How very knowledable. Your elders have taught you well." Lissandra shifted her position in her throne to lean towards The Boy.
"They have, please m'lady Lissandra. I know I am in your debt, but if I may ask one favor of you-"
"You wish to receive the blade of True Ice, to protect your village, is that it?" She asked.
He nodded.
"Very well. I shall let you have it, if you can wield it of course."
Lissandra stood from her throne and seemed to glide across the icy ground towards The Boy. She held out a hand and a blade of ice came flying from one of the far walls at the edges of the room. She planted it point first into the ground between them.
"You speak of the curse of the Iceborn?" He asked.
"You know of it?"
"I know that those who are not born as Iceborn cannot wield True Ice weapons. My intention was to use my life to return it to my village, if I was unworthy of wielding it," he explained.
"Such a courageous boy, and so devoted to your village… where did you say it was from?" She asked.
"It's at the base of a mountain far from here. I had travelled for three days to reach the mountain where your men found me."
She nodded at his words. "Very well. I give you my word that if you prove unworthy to wield this blade, it will be given to your village to defend it."
He nodded and reached out to touch the handle of the weapon. As soon as his fingers wrapped around the handle he began to feel an immense sensation of chill running through his arm, quickly spreading from his limb to the rest of his body. He was shivering with the cold in seconds, and he felt his arm losing feeling with the handle of the blade. He tried to grip it tighter but realized his fingers were so frozen they wouldn't obey him.
"Ah, how unfortunate," Lissandra spoke now, her voice coming from just over his shoulder.
He looked at her and saw her stand back to her full height. "It seems the blade does not choose you to be its wielder. Very well, a promise is a promise. I will have the blade given to your village. Rest now child, and embrace the cold."
The Boy struggled, his mind racing, he knew of a story where a non Iceborn warrior had wielded a weapon of True Ice in the past, and he tried to remember the details of how he had done it. Meanwhile the feeling of chill continued to creep up his body, reaching further and further. Now he couldn't feel the entire arm that had first made contact with the blade, he looked down and saw the fingers wrapped around the handle were blue with cold, and he knew it was too late for his arm. Even if he could remember the way the legendary warrior had accomplished the feat, he wouldn't be able to wield the blade properly with only one arm-
Then it hit him, the detail he had been so desperately trying to recall. He wrenched his arm from the blade, his fingers snapping free on the handle, then with a cry of defiance he swung his now maimed and frozen arm towards the blade of the sword with all his might, it cleaved through his frozen limb with ease, shattering what remained of it into pieces on the floor. There wasn't any sense of pain, as the limb had been numbed to the point where the receptors had died. He heaved with exertion as he looked at his now missing arm.
Lissandra began to laugh "My my! Did you know that would work? Or were you simply trying to escape your own demise?" She asked.
"My people… told of a story long ago… where a legendary warrior… chopped off his own arm… to wield an axe of true ice."
"Quite the Lorekeepers your people are," Lissandra purred the words to him. "I think that's what I'll call you. Your old life is over, you are worthy to wield the blade before you, with a new life that you have earned through sacrifice. I think a new life deserves a knew name… from this day forward you shall be: Lore, Keeper of the Ice and its Secrets."
Lissandra glided past Lore and resumed her seat on her throne. Lore followed her with his gaze before looking down at the blade still embedded in the ground. He brushed away the remnants of his frozen fingers from the handle and drew it all his strength, the blade slid free, and he had no experience of the frost that had claimed his right arm. He lifted it above his head and admired the way the light reflected through the ice that surrounded the ancient metal blade inside. Lissandra summoned a scabbard of Ice at his feet.
"You may use this, my champion, to store your blade when it is not in use."
Lore sheathed the sword before taking the whole thing in his free hand.
"You have a great destiny ahead of you Lore. I can feel great power emanating from you. I trust that you will put that power to good use?" She asked.
Lore nodded as he slipped the scabbard into the belt around his tunic. "With your leave Lady Lissandra, I would like to return home."
She nodded and waved a hand toward the doors, which both swung open to allow Lore to leave.
"You do just that my champion, show the world what you have accomplished here today."
Lore gave the ice witch one last look before turning on his heel and striving out of the throne room. Once the doors closed she sighed.
"The Boy is destined for great things, indeedly so, but at what cost to the Freljord must I pay for changing his fate in such a way. Perhaps, he'll be the key to finally ending this pathetic war, and with it, uniting the Freljord under my rule."
Lore held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as the doors opened that allowed him to exit the darkly lit ruins of the Frostguard. He looked back to the guard who had first greeted him when he'd awoken and the man nodded to him before pushing the doors closed. Lore looked up at the sky, then around himself. He began to recognize landmarks from the stories he'd heard. He nodded to himself once he had a direction to travel. He took the now loose sleeve of his tunic, using his free hand and his teeth he tied it into a neat knot that would keep the cold out and prevent it from snagging on anything as he travelled. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself before trudging off South-ward.
There were still things he needed to do.