Eludoran: The Legend of Lorelei in a Geste of Grave Misconceptions

By Jonathan Goh

In time one shall be hailed a king,
another as Betrayer.
Their third shall do an evil thing
when freedom is denied her.
Now Four and Five shall not survive;
misfortune Six to gain
by Seven’s will at least until
reunion on the Plain.
Though seven heroes journey forth;
prepare their final stand,
not all; I fear, shall chance to peer
upon their journey’s end.

Three children will seal the fate of nations: Lorelei the rebel vixen princess of Eludoran; measured against the yardstick of her heroic brother. Malachi her sidekick and cousin; resigned to mull over a love he can never have. And exotic Pendarynn; son of a jealous sorceress driven mad by revenge.
Their paths cross in Eludoran, where they find solace with each other. Little do their feuding parents suspect what’s been going under their noses; a friendship the like of which has never been heard of before: One which might shatter old grudges and usher in a new age of tolerance and reason...
--or bring everything crashing down around them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Singapore
• Release date: Feb 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482829662

Jonathan Goh

Jonathan Goh started writing at an early age and has never stopped. The author enjoys gazing at the moon, long naps, and sharing conversation—as well as the odd chew bone—with his friend and illustrator. Jonathan would like to reassure readers that he is human; fully human and nothing-but-human.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Jonathan Goh.

Cover art by Anya Rose Ewing: http://anyarose.net/

Email: [e-mail]

ISBN:      Hardcover                      978-1-4828-2965-5

                Softcover                        978-1-4828-2964-8

                eBook                             978-1-4828-2966-2

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This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblances to actual persons living or dead, organizations, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Contents

Act 1 Cub

1st Cant

2nd Cant

3rd Cant

4th Cant

5th Cant

6th Cant

7th Cant

8th Cant

9th Cant

10th Cant

11th Cant

12th Cant

13th Cant

14th Cant

15th Cant

16th Cant

Act 2 Cur

1st Cant

2nd Cant

3rd Cant

4th Cant

5th Cant

6th Cant

7th Cant

8th Cant

9th Cant

10th Cant

11th Cant

12th Cant

13th Cant

14th Cant

15th Cant

16th Cant

Act 3 C.O.R

1st Cant

2nd Cant

3rd Cant

4th Cant

5th Cant

6th Cant

7th Cant

8th Cant

9th Cant

10th Cant

11th Cant

12th Cant

Glossary of Names (Pronunciation)

Did You Know…

For my grandfather

Tay Kok Tow

In memory of

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

1_Page_004_Image_0001.jpg

Act 1

Cub

Again she fled, but swift he came.

Tinúviel! Tinúviel!

He called her by her elvish name

And there she halted listening.

—J. R. R. Tolkien

1_Page_006_Image_0001.jpg

1st Cant

Once long ago there was a maid

completely reckless; unafraid

to mock the Thousand and the creed

that every yearling has to heed,

forsaking dens to wander hence

5

beyond unspoken common sense.

Her people cast from homeland heath,

who roam the tundra; set adrift

by unforgiving brutal war…

Although in histories before

10

all recollection of the packs,

truesilver baubles grace their necks

and even vagabonds were clad

in cultivated silken thread

when old Shar’Ridan ruled as King:

15

such glorious days before the reign

of interloping Urskâldí!

Entire principality

evacuates when towers fall,

departing Elu-Vandor’s hall

20

without solution; looking back,

clothes worn to tatters from the tracks

within precarious mountainside.

Locating avenues to hide,

shall they pursue deserted land

25

away from overseer’s command.

Their ears grew sharper; pelts replaced

exquisite garments worn in grace

as each abandons courtly trade

for one requiring a blade;

30

concealed upon Eludoran—

The place you call the Singing Land.

Perhaps it has another name

to superstitious folk who claim

bewitching secret sorcery

35

surround its glade from tree to tree

and conjure an enchantment slow

around explorers who may go

unwanted to mysterious wood

pursuing gain misunderstood.

40

Those who indeed survive are changed;

relating situation strange

apparently encountered there—

Herbaceous trees in winterbare,

mysterious haunting music heard

45

escorting breezes; though no bird

is seen to wing across the sky.

Resulting choruses deny

tenacious purpose; scrambles mind.

Trespassers cast abroad shall find

50

compelling cause to fear the fey

immortal occupants to play

assorted tricks on those alone

for reasons which remain their own.

Their tales portray the hidden court

55

began by Karos; he who fought

opponents by commander’s side

against emerging ursine tide

until his uncle bid him bear

important warnings to the lair.

60

Hence one departing child was spared

horrendous massacre compared

with other followers at bay

his mission sending him away

from undiscerning killing floor…

65

Some he rescued; though little more

shall look upon accursed sight

on one such consequential night

where their appointed leader spoke:

"Our enemies do well to gloat;

70

commemorate their win today.

Recall the lesson; Lanorei!

Participants in war are slain—

Such matters cannot pass again.

The Red Usurper and his thanes

75

may choke upon their stolen gains!

Let all Creation see us dead.

We shall know better." Karos said,

pronouncing then in cadence low

enchanted incantation slow,

80

addressing here arboreal blades

upon their elemental glades

enshrouding all Eludoran—

what mortals name the Singing Land.

So Karos sang a spell profound

85

upon their newly chosen ground,

erecting barriers to protect—

Hallucinations which affect

imprudent wanderers instead,

ensuring none may see their glade.

90

Amalgamated shall they flow

as mesmerizing musics grow;

obtaining structure to remain

one unconditional refrain:

Myriad tones resounding deep—

95

expounding an eternal sleep,

Mortal doom; awaiting hour,

hope extinguished ever after…

Jackals; canines all composing

phrases from their own devising,

100

utilising mighty power

older; stronger than the fire

encompassing Creation bleak—

directed through the Words they speak

to shape a new reality

105

through concentrated harmony.

Enormous unabated sound

is interwoven; all around

throughout the very air they breathe.

More rapid now – enthral, reprieve,

110

Strength eternal as a tower—

Demonstrates musician’s power;

concurrences made living flesh

while integrated forces clash;

disintegrate – shall disappear,

115

resulting in distortion here:

Sensation tenuously felt;

a lurking trace on every pelt.

Created through their shared intent

was this authority which bent

120

resistance in the strongest mind—

exploring beast or humankind

who comes across Eludoran;

where superstition once began.

125

They consummate their spell begun.

Through harmonies combined as one,

a canine chorus now restores

domain upon unsheltered shores—

Intents demanding Elder-Speech;

united as companions reach

130

for mastery beyond their ken.

When conjuration comes to end,

Lord Karos saw their work was good

and so declared the spot he stood

commensurate domain to dwell—

135

enshrouded by surrounding dell

to colonize the way they chose

below their great oppressor’s nose!

Although for years usurper reigned

in Northern waste; he never gained

140

the road to one deserted trail

enclosing a mysterious dale

concealed away where none – alas!

except its dwelling folk may pass.

Though many rumours reached his ear

145

attracting interest; open fear

consumes the ones upon its track,

assorted pilgrims turning back;

away from places horror-clad

where even bears decline to tread.

150

Those who proceed may not appear

unaltered by surroundings here,

so few explorers dare to try

awaking danger. Mountains lie

encompassing the valley side

155

together. Neither scout nor guide

has come across an easy route

emerging through. The point is moot.

Moreover, no rewards await

within its hollow; none to sate

160

usurper Kings or mighty lords

intending to increase their hoards,

producing neither gems nor ore

from unassuming cavern floor:

Inadequate returns to risk

165

an expedition; so in peace

commander and his people stayed

long generations in the glade

some legends call Eludoran—

translated as the Singing Land.

170

Like morning dew’s departing shade,

reports collected slowly fade

to legends, spoken tales, or myth—

By humble inns upon the heath

uncounted minstrels mention kings

175

who ruled upon immortal beings;

recalling Eludoran’s lord:

Forever lurking by his board;

uncoupled from ancestral dens—

creating stubborn battle plans

180

enshrouded by surrounding gloom.

Secluded as a burial tomb

remain their chambers – council hall

supporting wooden pillars tall

where idle words were hardly said;

185

or any insurrection made

since he was knighted as a Shar,

intending to regain the star

lost Elu-Vandor used to be!

Below the weeping willow tree

190

does Lord Sharrikar brood alone

as Keeper for the Fallen Throne.

No argent silver, gleaming bright

enveloping surrounding light,

nor holding precious stone or brass—

195

It doesn’t gleam! Amidst the grass

is placed a single oaken chair

undecorated. Seated there

once pondered Shar’Rikar in thought.

An ornamented crown does not

200

accompany their leader here—

whose isolated thoughts severe

are clearly read upon his brow…

Devoted Karos; he has no

desire to impose the right

205

commanding Eludoran’s might.

Instead, he carries out his role:

Appointed Steward growing old

upon his duty; sworn to wait

here unassuming by the gate

210

while cherishing a hope in vain

that errant Kings come home again…

And here his heirs their stewardship

in old Anarien’s name still keep

until the day his children spurned—

215

True son and daughter are returned

again to claim Eludoran;

restoring all the Singing Land.

However, he has not forbade

spontaneous joy within his glade

220

where canine children roam unchecked,

undaunted; hidden from attack.

Pure harmonies arising clear

would fall upon another ear;

facilitate their owner’s gaze—

225

Spectators listening amazed

until they rise upon the breeze;

now generating some unease.

Far brighter tones than mortals heard;

embellished by the mockingbird

230

who shall return their clear refrain,

creating an unbroken chain

in Lanorei melodic spell

surrounding Eludoran’s dell—

A place where days were shining bright

235

as learned scholars come to write,

employing tail-script; open scrawl

their spoken tongue, as piping call

emerging chorus on the trees,

while northern wheat in golden sheaves

240

or berries laid upon the vine

all ripen sooner than their time

when planted on Eludoran’s

arboreal prairie meadowland.

2nd Cant

245

A distance hence, another pack

we may discover – every back

displaying ugly saddle-sores

alongside bruises. Countless scores

betray familiar scratches deep,

imparted by descending whip

250

delighting in another’s pain.

Vermillion spatters fall as rain

upon accursed frozen mud,

embellishing the ground in blood.

No laughter peals, no spoken note

255

there overheard from wasted throat—

distinguished by its collar tight;

restraining circumstance for flight:

This unrelenting chain severe

enforced upon their children here

260

as law and circumstance permit

the moment one shall learn to speak.

So small a thing, this leather band’s

accustomed weight… although a hand

is needed to undo its link!

265

What men manoeuvre in a blink

impossible for Lanorei—

Thus many learn who come to try.

Their fangs are useless. Canine claws

found insufficient: Clumsy paws

270

completely halted by a catch.

Another shame for those unmatched

by Urskâldarrí victory;

although a small indignity

when held alongside other cares

275

consigned upon them by the bears

obeying their appointed King

who rules upon the northern realm

which borders wide Eludoran—

where many stories come to end.

280

Highlord within almighty horde

was he saluted; like a god

revered by ursine warriors tall

as patriarch among them all!

Subsequently, an Age of Might

285

appears to pass – where lawful right;

compassion, loyalty to friends

become unknown. For selfish ends

unscrutable by most; does each

degenerate Urskâldí reach.

290

So hence it was for Bloodfang’s law.

Compunction rarely stayed his paw;

forever coated bloody red.

Encaged in slavery he bred

assorted warriors to fight—

295

competing for their lord’s delight.

It was to he whom Lady Fate

bestowed her blessing. He whose gate

stands all adorned by cruel spikes.

On bloody ramparts, rusty pikes

300

display their monuments to air.

Here empty eyes and sockets stare

awaiting evermore in place;

defiant growls on every face—

Proud warriors who made a stand

against usurper’s iron hand;

305

crusaders who shall never see

the rolling plains, the willow tree

that grows within Eludoran;

a place beyond existing ken.

310

The northern region his to hold

from Kyne to Icecap; where untold

Lanorei helots fashion stone,

reducing fangs and claws to bone

without the luxury of picks

315

while others sweat producing bricks—

Resulting mire trodden flat

by broken spirits to erect

those gloomy monuments they made

for ruling overlords instead;

320

accepting cruel fate, although

it has deserted people so!

Less hostile is Eludoran.

Protected from opposing hand;

Shar’Ridan’s legacy remains:

325

Proud history from early thanes

who in united spirit swore

to yet uphold ancestral lore.

There reigned in lost Anarien’s name

Sharrikar’s grandson; Arulaine—

330

An outlawed exile to the bears

whose line descended from the heirs

of Elu-Vandor’s proper King;

he rules in part. His chosen queen

was wild Anvira; called the Fair:

335

A magus born from song and air

familiar in the mystic art,

she won their leader’s wary heart;

remaining at Eludoran

as alpha female for his band.

340

The Queen possessed a beauty rare

that few among them could compare

or challenge. Irrevocably

from noble blood! Her family

they say has ties to Ailinel.

345

Since then no fairer maidens dwell

upon Eludoran again—

their line extinguished here in vain.

As pure a pelt will never be

observed among their hierarchy:

350

A russet hue from head to tail

alongside silver. Colours pale

portray her torso underside,

illustrious tail a vixen’s pride;

recalling newly fallen sleet.

355

Though brown as berries were her feet;

alluring paws that in the glade

were seen to dance. Her eyes are jade

in quality as well as tint—

Arresting gaze like razor flint

360

and like the hunting hawk in flight;

few things were hidden from her sight.

High Oaken Throne; warm summer’s breeze,

his kingdom, power – more than these

did one among them love his mate.

365

Together vow to share their fate

forevermore till journeys end;

conclude upon Eludoran.

O magical Eludoran:

our Paradise; our holy Land

370

which once presented sanctuary!

Come understand her history—

A healing temple; to engage

in meditation for the sage

or dwell on ancient stories past:

375

Nostalgic days we thought may last,

so keenly overcome by pride!

That silly fantasy has died

forevermore without a trace;

the once pristine Lanorei race

380

eradicated from their land

into the depths; away from men.

We ran, we fled, we hid away

and swore to strike another day.

On such a day would howls resound

385

as we reclaim our sacred ground!

Then bears may learn to be afraid…

Until such day, we guard the glade

against all wanderers who seek

forbidden trails. The mountain peak

390

denies intrusion from the West.

Some distance north wide oceans rest;

resurging unabated spray

awash on Icecap’s hidden bay,

erasing paw-prints from the sand.

395

Towards the South the meadow land

called Aventine: nomadic herds,

exotic people; solemn birds:

Impassioned scholars of the past

whose work ensures our stories last

400

though we who chance on these may go;

protecting secrets none shall know.

To utter East are realms untrod;

myriad places unexplored,

uncivilised; encounter fraught.

405

Resultingly, we travel not;

content within a certain glade

awaiting pilgrims unafraid,

where many claim; in stories sung,

was old when Shar’Ridan was young:

410

Ancestral home – Eludoran

entrusted once, though not again.

Here ruled custodian and his Queen—

Anvira who beheld unseen

dimensions; who uncovers thought

415

synonymous to mortal plot.

A mighty personality

comparable to surging Sea,

the great concerns to plague the wise

denominating gloomy eyes

420

regretting sights they swore to see:

What is, what was, or what may be…

They say their queen foresaw the doom

awaiting her; the lonely tomb—

Sepulchre’s welcoming embrace

425

which every mortal soul shall face.

Yet of unborn predictions bleak

she held her peace; nor would she speak,

anticipating lurking fate

we all encounter soon or late.

430

But while she ruled their woods were gay,

untroubled by approaching day.

Then songs were sung and stories told

recalling mighty heroes bold.

There many wondrous things were made

435

by able woodsmen from the glade:

Creations using spider thread

transporting soul through cadence glad,

exquisite pieces made from pine

disseminating smells divine

440

from open meadowland, or hill

where shy nepenthe lingers still

in perilous Eludoran—

Inviolate another span.

For what are we but mortal clay?

445

However, nothing gold may stay!

Not sumptuous nepenthe sweet;

emerging sunrise here to meet

unseemly twilight’s parting sigh

where colours blaze below the sky.

450

What innocence; or childhood trust

or spoken oath may ever last

forevermore to always be

unaltered for eternity?

Another understood her fate

455

when she pursued a mortal mate,

deciding strongly then and there

their roads to intertwine; to share.

To concentrate on family

she gave up immortality

460

in favour of beloved heir.

The Gods endow them with a pair:

descendants born twelve years apart—

A son who shall possess a heart

more courteous than Arulaine;

465

whose gallantry shall be his bane.

They dwelt eleven golden years

without enduring darker fears.

Mortality awaits them there!

Repeated coupling doesn’t fare

470

as well as it has gone before.

Participant cannot ignore

existing age; resultant pain

appears to be a dire strain

too terrible to comprehend.

475

Nor can despairing surgeon lend

assistance other than release—

Intense contractions come to seize

control upon resisting frame,

though every effort is in vain.

480

Contemporary potions fail.

Her breathing ebbs, her colours pale

like doom itself; omniscient eye

becoming dim. A piercing cry

recovers husband from his court.

485

He hastens hither… All for naught!

Late is the hour! Ravens tease,

announcing hither to the trees.

You come too late, commander bold!

Now destiny has taken hold!

490

Your daughter’s born – though at a price!

Subsequently, his heart was ice.

Hence day surrenders to the night,

already seeming not as bright

nor as enchanting in their glen

495

as when his dear companion sang

amongst encroaching moonlit eve.

The land itself appears to grieve;

all birdsong silenced and the flow

of rivers muted. No winds blow

500

across the meadowland to tease

nepenthe nodding in the breeze.

No songs are sung, no hikers pass;

disturb the smallest meadow grass

while Eludoran stayed its course

505

in mourning for the Queen-Who-Was.

Departed from those regions there,

her passing drew a sombre air

which unabated slyly crawls

throughout custodian’s mighty halls

510

to bring contaminating rot

upon relation’s idle thought.

Lord Arulaine shall slowly find

a heavy presence on his mind

approaches lingering to stay,

515

becoming darker day by day.

For others would he cease to care;

emerging seldom from the lair

where lay a certain barrow mound

amidst their old ancestral ground

520

hidden by nepenthe flowers.

There a Steward spent his hours,

unwilling to experience den

deserted by Eludoran.

Salvation shall demand a cost—

525

His lovely mate forever lost!

Yet though the Seer shall cease to be,

she propagates her legacy

to heal a brooding husband’s grief;

perpetuate some small relief:

530

Her only son from mother torn;

a lawful canine Prince was born,

who shared his royal sire’s name—

Their unrelenting kindred: Llane.

Conceived upon a stormy night;

535

the russet blaze in morning’s light

describes his fur from chin to tail.

With eyes the shade of amber pale

originating from the seers,

he felt far older than his years.

540

Precocious cub; his manner fey,

Llane rarely ventured out to play

alongside token friends he had,

subsequently shall choose instead

archaic lessons from the past.

545

Assorted histories; alas,

which claim our legends as a part

were soon committed to the heart.

Accomplished as he came to be

at complicated strategy;

550

still greater was collected lore.

No weapon master has before

enacted strike or parried blow

so near-exquisite; undergo

as overwhelming such a dance

555

where few encounters go by chance.

Now seasons pass; he slowly grew—

obtaining consequence anew:

Custodian leader’s acting hand;

protector of Eludoran.

560

Now drawn by circumstances here,

calamity shall soon appear

within a constituency:

Though recollected Llane shall be;

still greater tales are sung today

565

concerning kindred Lorelei:

So like the Queen in looks and frame,

tis’ said Anvira lived again

behind her daughter’s piercing eyes—

untainted blue as summer skies;

570

whose hidden properties enfold.

Her fur recalling silver cold,

emerging radiant lustre fair

distinct on every lucent hair

against her coat; a comely sight

575

to see the shades approaching white

upon her belly, chest, and throat.

Far darker is the colour-coat

characterising slender back;

Lorelei’s tail-tip raven black.

580

Nor could another reason why…

Unlucky sign; our sages sigh,

it sets apart the people Fate

appoints towards encroaching date:

impossible for one to know—

585

or so they say in voices low,

unheard as gossip through the glade

where Lorelei became a maid.

Away immortal kindred fared,

here dancing as her mother had

590

below the shining moonlight pale

which comes to rest upon the vale.

Thus ages pass Eludoran;

proceeding slowly to its end.

3rd Cant

There long ago in history

595

was held a battle needlessly

between opposing armies grey,

one yielding to the stronger fey.

Great heroes answered such a call,

pursuing glory till they fall,

600

obliterated by a blade.

No winners here; so many dead

on either side as armies clash

in idle struggle, leaving ash

upon the breeze: unbroken lake

605

of utter ruin in their wake.

Nor would opponents ever flee.

Some quaint, misguided bravery

commands them all to stay and fight;

attempting to regain the night.

610

Although they soon shall hallowed ground

obtain; intruding soldiers found

compelling cause to understand

how we became the Scourge of Men.

We made them suffer; made them pay

615

for everything they took away:

Our homes, our fathers, fellow mates

escorted to the gloomy Gates

protecting Dame Astarte’s realm;

the shadow sea to overwhelm.

620

Small enterprise usurpers claim

unsullied from Aurellis Plain—

uncharted regions; barren land;

unworthy bastion to defend.

Still, land it was: the northern fjord

625

surmounted by superior sword.

A worthy action; nor shall he

surrender this territory

—His legacy; his precious prize—

till doom descend upon his eyes.

630

Tales name him as a pirate king

of whom the bards decline to sing.

Too savage for their cruel land

where other monsters own their dens;

they exile him to stormy sea

635

considering their foe to be

exterminated by the tide

without supplies or trusted guide

who might expose the way to shore…

Concurrently, he came no more

640

to plague the country of his birth,

remaining on the ocean surf.

Lone vagabond; his scurvy band

which numbers merely five times ten,

accommodation from their god

645

protects their ship; steers them toward

salvation! Far across the sea

by chance; coincidentally

do bears behold a foreign land

unbroken by another hand.

650

Hopes now restored, they alter course

intending to obtain by force

ambition greater than before:

A pirate haven free from law.

He came ashore; acquired friends.

655

We realize how encounter ends.

Our skirmish fought; he won the day,

his crew subsequently shall stay,

usurping ancient hallways deep

until gods waken from their sleep.

660

Thus usurper shall acquire

every single heart’s desire.

However, he was not appeased,

some quality obstructing ease…

A lord may thus acquire slave

665

or concubines to warm his cave,

employ protectors; place them near

around his person. Hallways here

retain a legendary guard;

fel mercenary soldiers hard

670

who hail from nearby Mycenae

where souls are taken night or day.

Associates alongside kings;

exalted rulers, mighty beings,

addressing such companions here.

675

Yet even noble lords may fear

awaking doom; encroaching fate

opponents bring towards their gate.

Assassins, poison, dark designs

consume his thoughts. He rarely dines

680

without implicit certainty;

suspecting poison. Warily

prepares precautions; true to mind,

mistrusting some unseen design.

To lead a hunt no longer bore

685

one compensation; shall ignore

excursions over barren field.

Deliberating there until

inspired by a worthy plan—

What mighty foe, what weapon can

690

prevail upon Mycenean skill;

the many talents they can wield?

Raw iron, sulphur, furnace flame…

Throughout the years they learn to tame

such instruments towards their will,

695

conjoining miracles to steel.

Their mail alone denies all threat

upon the wearer; failing that,

no mortal effort can undo

those mystic barriers which imbue

700

an armour fashioned of their hands

employing skill from other lands.

Such armour would usurper buy

in aspiration to defy

implacable demise; the doom

705

characterising lonely tomb.

These requisitions will be heard.

Ambitious engineers appeared,

each eager to acquire prize

awaiting them. Their beady eyes

710

exposing predatory greed,