Zín Urdur

There weren’t always dragons in the valley, Ludwig Urdur thought as he sat upon his white elk, his blood-stained armour gleaming in the evening sun. He turned to look at the carnage they had wrought upon the race of the dwarves on the planes of Grren Túrnvír. After every few Dwarven corpses there was one Elven. The sight of his dead brethren caused Ludwig much pain. The elven king dismounted from his elk and strode across the blood-soaked terrain. He saw many faces which he recognised, some had been loyal to his brother Zín, and such had been their devotion that they had accepted death. As Ludwig resisted his feelings of sorrow, he reminded himself that those elves had betrayed him, that they had betrayed their God, and that they had to be severely punished for that treason.

Ludwig felt sweat trickle down his forehead as he walked amongst the corpses. An ordinary day of war was terrible, but on a blistering day such as today it was even more so. Perhaps it was the clouds of fire floating above them, they certainly did nothing to aid the asphyxia he felt.

In the air, Ludwig saw five dragons circling - breathing fire, and attempting to suffocate him. The King of the Elves summoned his most renowned spell weavers to his side. Four elves in white linen robes with gold thread at their waists answered him immediately. Ludwig made his instructions clear.

akorai aina drein. kill them.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the four spell weavers raised their arms simultaneously and muttered the same sentence three times in elvish. There was an immediate cooling of the air, which was accompanied by five thunderous noises. Ludwig Urdur looked behind him to see the dragons struggling on the ground, laying beside the very army they had fought hard to protect. Their beauty was undeniable, Ludwig thought as he approached them carefully, before placing a soft hand on their scales.

er est in kelben ak. They shine like diamonds, he noted in admiration.

ahíim belna noe anmpa kal? Are you as crazy as you seem?

Ludwig Urdur turned around to see his brother, Zín, with two hundred of his surviving men.

ailhinó est maiust, Zín, ailhinó est maiust. We are superior, Zín, we are superior.

His brother, the Prince of the Elves laughed at his reply. This was the fundamental difference between the two. As superior beings, Ludwig believed they had the right to enslave other races. Zín, however, had a different opinion. According to Zín, their superiority did not give them any rights over others; rather, it gave them the power to share their knowledge of the world and wealth with others to create a more equal and educated society.

Before an argument could ensue, the clouds turned grey, the skies parted and through it came a giant of a man. Taller than even the tallest of giants. His features were blurred, but they knew who he was.

“HOW DARE YOU?” The wrath that was unleashed with every word tore a gash through the ground beneath them. The cadavers of the dead disappeared into the chasm as if the underworld was summoning them. The few surrounding trees twisted and curved with the sheer force of their God’s booming words. Some were uprooted instantly and others shrivelled to the size of a plant.

The Elves were not known to be a fearful race. They believed that no other race that shared their world could even compare to their incandescent beauty, their vast knowledge and their prowess at all aspects of life. Ludwig Urdur, the Emperor of the Elven Race, the Conqueror of Dragons and Dvergår, and the Slayer of All Peoples of Ilwyn, had never known fear as great as that which engulfed him now. He had reigned over the lands of Ilwyn for over two hundred years; it was owing to him that his brethren, the Ljosalfar, excelled. Even the giants fled to southern islands for fear Ludwig would find them and kill them all.

Now, Ludwig cowered behind his brother Zín.

The towering God sighed heavily as he peered down at them and transformed his size to draw himself level with Ludwig and Zín.

“You remind me of my sister,” Mag proclaimed, looking at Zín. “You are afraid to admit your superiority, unable to accept it.”

“That is precisely why I do not kill without reason, my God.” The prince replied. “What good would subjugating a people do? One day, we will age, grow tired, comfortable and there will be one who will not seek to appease their disdain towards us, he will instead seek revenge. I do not kill them, because we are superior.”

Mag suddenly laughed, from which flowers blossomed instantly where there were none before, the shrivelled trees exploded outwards until they appeared ancient and robust and the terrain regained its healthy feel once more. “I like you. I will therefore make your punishment less harsh than I first intended. You and those who opposed my orders are to go forth to the frosty north…go and live with the dwarves you helped defend, go and saddle the dragons that you admire so, for they are more indomitable than their creator, my brother Val. You are forever banished from living with your kind.”

“Yes, Gracious God.” bowed Zín. He turned to those that had helped him defend the Dragons and Dvergår, and signalled for them to get ready.

“I am not finished yet.”

“My sincere apologies, your Heavenly Majesty.” He said, turning to face his creator.

“For your sake, I hope they are sincere. In addition to your banishment, neither you nor any of your followers will be able to walk on this earth created by my Father, Isaiah and his doom of a twin, Zaiah, whilst the sun rides the day. Only by night, lest your flesh burn and you die an evil and tortuous death.”

Prince Zín Urdúr turned to his followers once more with a sincere apologetic glance. Without even a fleeting look at his brother, the King, he saddled his horse and along with his two hundred loyalists, he left, never to be seen again and thus the hard race of the Dökkàlfar was created.