Last Lessons

Last Lessons


Ilgil sat beside a small campfire, facing a rocky outcrop with the forest at her back. Opposite her, between the flames and rock, was her mentor, Gladimar. The pair sat in comfortable silence. At the edge of the trees were their mounts: two large, shaggy canines with red irises and thick, muscular limbs and bodies; these animals were called orc-wolves. Though intimidating to look upon, the creatures sat a silent vigil, blending with the shadows of the forest.

Ilgil toyed with the tip of her braid; she was a mountain elf: somewhat brawny, with dark brown hair and slate grey eyes. Her chin was squared, she had short pointed ears, and her shoulders were broad. By elven and human standards, she was wild and unkempt. But by orc standards she was toughened and practical; hands and feet calloused, her hair pulled back in a simple fashion, and her nails were no longer than necessary, worn down from use. She wore a light singlet and pants made from natural fibres, over which she wore light leather armour to protect her abdomen, and upper legs. Ilgil was pleased that she may have found someone who didn't hold this against her.

Neither spoke a word; it was a time for contemplation. Ilgil had found that sometimes, rather than obtusely and instantly asking questions that came to her mind, she could find her own answers if she pondered on her question. This was what contemplation time was for; Gladimar had taught her the value of reflection and meditation a long time ago; ironically, the true value had not been immediately obvious and it was something that Ilgil had taken several years to fully appreciate after much wondering.

Gladimar watched Ilgil through partially closed eyes. The female orc shaman was doing some reflecting of her own, coincidentally recalling the early days of her protégé; Ilgil had grown spiritually, intellectually and physically.


"How do you know I have the right spirit?" Ilgil craned her neck to look up at Gladimar; the young elf was in a tub, being scrubbed clean by the orc.

"Wolf Riders see more than most," Gladimar replied patiently, "they could sense your spirit. In past life, Ilgil, you were once an orc."

"What if they were wrong?" The little elf maid pressed. "You said all prota-gees must die before they become shamans. I don't want to die! And if they were wrong, that means my clan suffered for nothing."


The death of an entire clan of goblins was still a sore spot for both Ilgil and Gladimar; the goblins had adopted Ilgil as a baby, having found her in a swamp presumably abandoned. After growing up for six years with the goblins, Ilgil was discovered by her mountain elf kin; without investigating circumstances, a war party ambushed the goblin encampment and killed the occupants, children and adults alike. Orc Wolf Riders had been close by and heard the fray, and came to help; only to be faced with a massacre. Bloodeye, Ilgil's orc-wolf charge now, had lost his original master in the event. Ilgil herself had tried to fight the mountain elves, enraged and distraught at the destruction of her only known family, able to use her latent magic for the first time – but it was nothing. A child against an army, she was equivalent to a flea against a dragon.

In truth, it was no coincidence that the orc Wolf Riders had been so close by; the party had been watching Ilgil and the clan for a short time, and had even approached the goblins to talk about the shaman protégé. Gladimar had chosen to tell Ilgil all of this, even though she knew the young elf would feel responsible for the acts of murder for some time. As a shaman, Gladimar decided it was better for the elf to know now as early as possible then to find out hidden truths later.  It saddened Gladimar to recall the events even after fifteen years. She returned her thoughts back to the conversation with Ilgil so long ago.


"If they are wrong, then they are wrong. But a true orc shaman must be an orc in body and spirit," Gladimar explained slowly, so the elf could comprehend what she was saying. "To do so, the body must die so the spirit can be reborn. A ritual is performed to return the spirit to new body. It is rebirth. Ilgil should not be frightened, it is Ilgil who will choose time of death, when Ilgil is ready."

Still the elf had questions; Gladimar had heard how talkative the youth was, but even after a month the old Orc was faced with a torrent of queries the child seemed to have every day.

"Can't I just die now?"

Gladimar stopped rubbing the girl's hair. This was all part of grieving for the elf. "Shamans need to live before they die; a spirit needs reason to return, ritual is only a gateway." Gladimar replied. "Sometimes sadness is part of life. Gladimar also feels sad because of death of friends."


That was the first time Gladimar had seen Ilgil cry; it was an image that had stayed with her. She recalled the child's screwed up face, hair dripping with water, and the look of utmost heart break. It was a distressing time, yes, but grief of such magnitude had ways of shaping people, especially children. It was one of Ilgil's most important life experiences; Gladimar was certain the grief had become the foundation of Ilgil's character and strength.

Across the fire, Ilgil broke the silence. "Gladimar," she spoke, "I would like to go into Rhywinda for a few days by myself. I want to meet with the wood elves again. I said I'd teach them a few things if ever I saw them again."

The old orc wondered if her ears detected a hint of shiftiness in the request; it was quite unlike Ilgil to hide something or lie. Gladimar wasn't stupid, she had been young once (twice, technically), but she wasn't about to embarrass the young elf by being too nosy about the whole truth. It was yet another life experience; and she had already explained to Ilgil many years ago about How Things Become. Having attended several child bearings as Gladimar's assistant, Ilgil had been very well informed.

"You can do that Ilgil," she responded. "But be careful; wood elves can be slippery."

Ilgil shrugged, slightly over acting indifference. "I'll be okay."

Gladimar had no doubt Ilgil would be fine; most elves would be crushed by Ilgil in a fight: she had grown up with orcs after all. But, more importantly, Bloodeye would be with the elf. There were some things even Ilgil did not yet know about orc culture.

After cooking the day's hunt over the fire, eating their fill and feeding the wolves, Ilgil and Gladimar set up their bedrolls at the edge of the forest. Bloodeye and Gladimar's orc-wolf charge, Vulture, lay down near them and the four went to sleep.


The next morning Ilgil and Gladimar were on their mounts, ready to part with one another. The orc-wolves had leather saddles so that their riders could attach camping gear easily. The wolves did not wear muzzles or reins, such things were not necessary and inconvenient – the orc-wolves were brutal fighters, nearly the size of bears on all fours. The saddle had a hand hold for ease of riding, but most proficient riders needed only their legs to maintain balance.

"Take care," Gladimar said, nodding slightly. "And Ilgil... please remember to take care of Bloodeye – it would be unwise to have a hungry wolf in a village." She smiled wryly. The warning was a real one despite the mild joke.

Ilgil smiled back at the old orc; to her, Gladimar was a mother despite their large age differences. Gladimar had always taken care of her, and mended her wounds or been there to listen and guide Ilgil even when the elf wasn't the most cooperative protégé.
"I won't be gone long," Ilgil promised.

Gladimar and Vulture bounded off into the forest; they would be back at the orc encampment by early noon if they did not delay. Ilgil and Bloodeye lingered for a moment, listening to the retreating heavy paws. Ilgil stroked her wolf's cranium until she could no longer hear Gladimar and Vulture.

"Let's go," Ilgil commanded. Bloodeye raced through the forest, onto a dirt road, and headed for a nearby town they had seen but not entered: Rhywinda.

Unlike horses, or other animals, the orc-wolves could understand orcish language and needed no bridles to guide them. Their master directed them with words, or when necessary, taps on either side of the wolf's shoulder to indicate specific commands.

The protégé shaman did not fully understand why this was so; the Wolf Riders and their charges were one of the most ambiguous facets of orc culture that even a protégé shaman did not have the privilege of knowing. But she had learnt that the orc-wolf pack, for there was only one and it was large, had been granted the status of an orc clan. Orcs who joined the ranks of the Wolf Riders in effect joined the Orc-Wolf Clan, and only ever rode on the backs of the orc-wolves. A legend told from generation to generation throughout orc clans depicts the orc-wolves as servants of the Wolf Riders, living to return a debt to the riders and regain a lost honour through humble service. Orc-wolves were not permitted to join other clans, and the Wolf Riders were selected by the various shamans.

Earlier in the year, in spring, Ilgil and Gladimar had been traversing a glacial valley for flowers - it was the best time of year to harvest certain varieties that orc shamans used and valued for both medical and spiritual purposes. The orcs did not usually go out of their way to mingle with other races save for goblins and mers (mermaids and mermen), though wood elves had decided to mingle with them in the valley. Ilgil and Gladimar were two of a dozen or so shamans and protégés; the elves, three adolescent males, had been curious as to why a mountain elf was with the congregation.

She remembered the first encounter quite well; it was not often she spoke with elves. Ilgil had learnt to speak a language other than orcish, though she was not fluent. Meeting the three elf adolescents had been a good opportunity to practice the language, and it had proved fruitful in many ways. She was a better speaker for the meeting, she got to learn about wood elf culture and mountain elf culture, and they gave her a few lessons in archery. Though she resented the elves that destroyed much of her early life, she had been taught that not all elves were of the one species; wood elves, like those she met in the glacial valley, were apparently very jovial, unlike mountain elves who had a reputation for being sour and uncompromising.

The meet had been restricted to a few days; the flowers, once harvested, needed to be returned to the settlements and prepared for storage. In the short time she had spent with the other elves, Ilgil had discovered just how 'jovial' wood elves could be. The night before her departure, she had been invited to Rhywinda for a start-of-summer feast. Never had she seen so many tipsy elves in one place. Jallifin, one of the elves from the valley, had insisted on teaching Ilgil how to dance like a wood elf; this required close contact that Ilgil had rarely been exposed to, but she did not mind. She had been quite flattered and allowed Jallifin to instruct her. The orc-raised mountain elf had become something of a spectacle for the wood elves, and after roughly stamping out the basic rhythm, was enjoying herself thoroughly.

As the night went on, Jallifin having occupied Ilgil as her dance partner for most of it, the pair retired from the party. The wood elf had taken her to the fields where they sat on a log watching the swaying wheat, and the moon slowly dipping below the peak of the mountain range. Ever close by, Bloodeye followed Ilgil to the fields; he had sat quietly behind, a short distance away under a tree. Ilgil had known even before Jallifin's hands started exploring, as though they had spirits of their own, that he was wooing her. The conversation she had with Jallifin had been embedded in her mind.

"Are you... wedded?" Jallifin had asked her. "I bet it must be quite something to be the mate of a shaman apprentice."

Ilgil had not known what Jallifin had meant. But she replied as best she could. "Ilgil is not wedded. Are you wedded?"

Jallifin pressed his side against hers, smiling wryly. "No, not wedded. But I am, you could say, pleasurable to be around."

"I have reasons not wedded, but Jallifin is young and handsome, why are you not wedded?" Ilgil demanded; she had been wondering the whole day and had not had the courage to ask until then.

Jallifin had explained to Ilgil that his previous girlfriends had cheated on him and left him for other wood elves, after he bought them jewellery, dresses and flowers. She was disgusted by what she heard; Ilgil had never expected that wood elf females could be so selfish, but then perhaps they were the bad apples of an otherwise more refined culture. It was then that she decided to do something very important.

"Show me you love me, Ilgil," Jallifin had been so swift to stand up and sit down on her lap that Ilgil had fell backwards off the log. He had pressed his lips onto hers and reached for her belt with a feverish hand, but she did not allow the promiscuous wood elf to proceed. She had grabbed his adventurous hand gently as possible and brought it up to her lips, and kissed it.

She recalled with clarity what she had said to him that night. "If you want Ilgil, Jallifin will wait. This is... inappropriate. Not proper. Ilgil's traditions differ to wood elf traditions. Please understand."

"I...see. Yes, that is okay. I'm sorry, Ilgil." Ilgil wasn't sure if it was translation issues, but the way Jallifin responded seemed odd; as though his voice did not match his words. She had not thought much of it at the time, but she later wondered what Jallifin had felt.

After the little episode, Ilgil went to sleep on the dry grass in Jallifin's arms. Bloodeye had walked over and curled up beside them. The next morning saw Ilgil leave, but she promised to return in a moon.

"Next meet will be proper," She ensured the wood elf. "Ilgil bring Jallifin a gift. Ilgil will not be like previous mates."

Ilgil had been disappointed to leave; she enjoyed the company of the wood elves very much, even if Jallifin was rather quick to try and have his way. She felt very privileged to be thought of that way; no orc from her clan seemed interested in her, because she was a protégé shaman. Gladimar had also discreetly mentioned that How Things Become between orcs and elves was difficult and often ended in death during child birth if the mother was an elf.


Now, on her return to Rhywinda, Ilgil would bring two gifts: A tanned bear skin that could be used as a blanket or making winter clothing, which she herself had hunted and prepared, and a bouquet of the same types of flowers she had harvested in spring; she needed to stop and gather the flowers from the valley on her way back to the village. When she and Bloodeye reached the valley, they stopped by a stream for a rest and Ilgil spent a couple of hours selecting prime specimens that would dry well and provide good medicine. She tied the bouquet with some string and wrapped the end in damp cloth. As soon as she was ready she mounted Bloodeye and the pair made the final dash to Rhywinda, arriving at around three in the afternoon.

The mountain elf had been so excited to return to Rhywinda, but the gatekeeper was determined to rain on her parade. He was so cold in his manner he could have been a mountain elf like Ilgil. The wood elf refused to let her and Bloodeye into the village unless Ilgil tied Bloodeye's muzzle shut. She only reluctantly agreed, having no other choice unless she wanted to turn back and go home. Bloodeye did not seem impressed, and she apologised in orcish profusely to her charge, but she still felt like she was violating the wolf's spirit.

After being allowed entrance, Ilgil rode Bloodeye down the main cobbled road. Wood elves glanced at her from their doings at the shops and taverns. As she progressed down the road, hairs rose on her neck; were those elves pointing at her? Bloodeye trotted faster, turning down a dirt road where Jallifin's family home was. He had shown her where he lived during her last visit. She unmounted from Bloodeye at the door to Jallifin's home; it was a large wooden and mud structure built around several massive trees. Related families tended to occupy such houses together in wood elf societies.

Ilgil unpacked the bear skin and held the flowers in her right hand; her stomach flipped – she was nervous. The idea of participating in official courtship in front of Jallifin's entire household made her squeamish. Allowing her heart to settle first, she braced herself and knocked on the arched door loudly. There was silence for a few seconds, and then the definite sound of footsteps walking down a corridor towards the front door.

The door swung open; a middle aged wood elf female looked at Ilgil; the woman seemed surprised. "Oh hello," the wood elf greeted. "You're the orc-elf aren't you?"

It was Ilgil's turn to be surprised. Orc-elf? She'd never been called that by any of the wood elves before; it sounded almost offensive. Maybe it was another translation error.

"I am Ilgil," she replied trying to sound calm and confident, "I... does Jallifin live here?"

"Yes, I'm the matron of the house. Jallifin is my son."

Ilgil waited for an invitation in, but she never got one. Her timidness quickly turned into impatience. "Ilgil is here to see Jallifin, Ilgil wishes to give gifts. Can I see Jallifin?"

The matron's brow creased. "My son is not home. Neither is he available for courting. He is away. Please go, Ilgil."

Ilgil tried to hand the flowers and bear skin to Jallifin's mother. "Please give to Jallifin. I will return later. When will Jallifin come home?"

"My son does not want your gifts," the matron snapped, stepping backwards into the hallway. "He doesn't want a filthy orc-elf flirting with him." She shut the door; Ilgil heard the matron slide a bar across to prevent it from being opened from the outside.

Stunned, Ilgil tried to process what had happened. She still wasn't fluent with the local language, but she was certain she was unwelcome. Feelings of anger, bewilderment and embarrassment erupted inside Ilgil making it difficult for her to think. Bloodeye growled, getting her attention. She got back on her charge and Bloodeye trotted her away from the house. They were onto the main street when Ilgil commanded Bloodeye to halt; perhaps, she thought, Jallifin's mother was just being troublesome and trying to prevent her from seeing him. She eyed the wood elves in the street; seeing a couple of adolescent females looking at her, she decided to approach them.

"Do you know Jallifin?" Ilgil asked, ignoring the wood elves' scornful glances.

"Why?" One of the females asked. "Were you looking for him?"

"Yes. Do you know where Jallifin is?"

Unable to oppress their amusement, the two elf maids laughed, looking at each other as if one of them had said something very humorous. Eventually one of them answered Ilgil's question. "Jallifin left several days ago; he got married and moved to another town to be with his wife. Don't tell me you went looking for him?"

Bloodeye's neck fur stood on end, and he snarled at the elves, before running at a full gallop for the gate without command from his rider. Ilgil's face screwed up, her mouth tightened into an exaggerated frown as she tried not to let the pain take control. She gripped onto the flowers, not wanting to throw them away; it would be a disgrace to carelessly discard them. She leant forward and undid the belt that had muzzled the orc-wolf, so he could breathe properly; she felt shameful now for ever having done such a horrendous thing to her charge. She gave no orders to Bloodeye, who seemed to have a clear idea of where he was going, and allowed him to carry her away from Rhywinda. By the time the pair disappeared up the road from view, Ilgil could no longer see clearly; her vision was distorted by the tears welling in her eyes. She could tell they had veered from the dirt road when shadows of foliage crossed over, and she could hear grass whipping the orc-wolf's legs.

Tears overflowed from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks; she struggled to prevent herself from screaming and crying out loud. She wiped salty snot and tears from her face, wiping them on her pants. She held onto the saddle with one hand, and held the flowers to her chest with the other; not out of care for whom they should have been for, but to try and protect them from becoming too badly bruised. Even under great emotional pain Ilgil held her cultural values above her own wayward feelings.

Bloodeye stopped by the stream for Ilgil, who was grateful for the opportunity to wash her face. The orc-wolf retreated into the bushes, with the flowers and bear pelt now tucked safely into his saddle. Ilgil allowed herself to sob by the stream now that she had privacy. She waded into the water, until she was in the centre, water up to her ribs. The water was very cold even though the now sinking sun was hot; it had been chilled by the mountains.


Stars were bristling in the clear night sky by the time Ilgil had built a small fire and was sitting by it drying in her now soaked clothes. She was shivering; her irrationality had left her vulnerable to stupidity and now she was suffering for it. She had made camp on the coarse sand of the stream's shore. She would not eat tonight; she was not up for food even though her stomach grumbled loudly at her.

Ilgil nearly jumped out of her skin when Bloodeye came over and sat beside her, warming her with his fur. She undid the saddle so he could rest in comfort. Ilgil watched the circular moon rise slowly from behind a nearby escarpment on the other side of the stream, trying to make sense of the day's terrible events.

When the moon was near its zenith, Bloodeye stood up and walked behind the fire; Ilgil assumed he was drying his fur. Tears had once again welled into her eyes, blurring her vision; a fresh wave of grief was building up inside her like pus in a wound. The scattered light played tricks on her; Bloodeye appeared bigger. She wiped her eyes dry; Bloodeye was still growing. She watched as the wolf grew taller, his hair thinning and disappearing to reveal dark tough green-brown skin.

Something from deep within her spirit made her realise she was witnessing something rare and secret; something that was not common knowledge to most except for orcs like Gladimar and true Wolf Riders.

Knowledge locked away from a past life opened up to her; she knew now. She could understand why the orc wolves had clan status; because, a very long time ago, they had once been orcs – transformed by shaman magic into wolves, as punishment for cowardice centuries ago that nearly lead to the destruction of the ancestors of the Wolf Riders themselves. A debt that, out of their shame, the ancient clan had willingly agreed to forever serve those they failed in order to regain honour as a new clan, the Orc-Wolves Clan.

A tall, muscular orc with coarse black hair, like a mane, stood with fire lighting him from below. Ilgil looked into his deep set brown eyes; she could sense his spirit was an old one, like her's. The orc walked over, and Ilgil stood up; she grabbed the bear pelt, and thrust it forward unable to speak, her mind not clouded by grief but reeling from a spiritual awakening.

Bloodeye – though Ilgil now questioned whether this was his real name – opened the pelt and wrapped it around the still damp elf, and drew her close to his chest. She relaxed in the embrace, though unable to return the hug with her arms beneath the pelt.

Although feeling highly enlightened, Ilgil couldn't quite word what she wanted to say. "I'm stupid," she blinked tears away – this time of joy. "I should have known you were more than a noble steed. And the things I did sometimes when I thought no one was watching..."

A large hand stroked her rough hair, and she felt the orc tremble, laughing. "No secret of Ilgil's will ever be told. It is a privilege to serve shamans and protégés and the Wolf Riders."

"I think... I am ready to die now."

"And Brokka will be waiting for you to return."