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THE WITCHES OF PAGANDOM
THE PEOPLE OF THE CLIFF
. . . . .
The range of Blue Mountains ended before the Bay of Luhun, with a single peak whose face had fallen away long ago. The sheer, cliffside was peppered with caves. Those grottos had always been inhabited for as long as recounted memory; places of refuge for those seeking shelter or seclusion from others.
With the western migrations, that followed the Great War to end all wars, even the empty Gray Harbor had been transformed into a thriving city of Men; led by a Remnant of Fair Folk. When those Fair Rulers increased their control over the realm of Eriduah some men found they could no longer follow such righteous leaders and so were cast aside as Apostates.
One such Apostate was a liar called Salamone. Through whispered rumors and secret signs weak-minded ones sought him out in the forest of Norwood. Such ones accepted that wicked sorcerer’s wayward teachings. For, by means of magical enchantments, and twisted tales would he deceive those dissidents after their loss of faith. Having lost their way, they soon added to their guilt with vile practices not condoned by the true Mitharian Sons of God. Thusly were they denounced as Witches, and apostates they gathered in caves. The people of those cliff caves thereafter refused the guidance of the Anointed Remnant and ever strove to unravel their doctrines with cunning words and slanderous lies themselves.
………………………………
A group of people, who had never met one another before, all found themselves traveling in the same direction along the eastern road. They were strangers who had temporarily set aside their families and responsibilities in search of understanding the greater mysteries in life. They had come from various places throughout the realm of Eriduah, suddenly finding themselves among other strangers dressed as them, wearing simple sandals, and hooded white robes. They all appeared without rank, distinction, or high status, and as equals. To any who may have witnessed the trope pass along, they would have appeared as quiet pilgrims heading for an unknown retreat. Following their initial greeting, each had learned the group was indeed heading for the same destination, the Dim-bar way, after which they remained silent, unnamed seekers even among themselves for the duration of their long journey east.
None of them carried food provisions or walking sticks, but a single white pebble etched with their own name. These tightly held stones were to be a token offered at their journey’s end, for it was a marker that they had indeed fulfilled their sacred task; a once in a lifetime goal, finally achieved.
In that last month of spring, before the summer would reign hot over the land, those twenty-one strangers found themselves rounding the final leg of their journey as the Triple Mount now stood behind them. One at a time, without command they each curiously looked back and gazed high upon the cliffs, at the only entrance into the Last Dwarven Kingdom of Jebul. Before them lay the Gulf of Dim-bar and the mouth of the Blue River. Standing on its banks they turned northward to the left and in time soon came to a sturdy, solid bridge by which to cross over into the ancient Forest of Norwood, and once there, enter the Paharuth-Eru, The Holy Meeting Place of The One.
After three days of fasting without nourishment or sleep, those white-clad devotees found themselves at long last crossing the lonely bridge beneath the cool shade of Norwood’s canopy. A brief stretch from the bridge’s landing those silent, weary travelers saw that two long tables had been prepared for them in advance. One table was adorned with simple flatbread, and either roasted boar or deer. A space apart the other table was well stocked with exactly twenty-one clay goblets and pitchers of water and wine. Seated on the ground, in between both of those tables was an old man whose back was to the new arrivals. He was dressed as one of them. Upon hearing their footfalls leaving the bridge he happily called aloud, “Hail and welcome! You may freely partake of the provided feast and be refreshed.” Then, hearing they had begun to eagerly accept his invitation, the old man continued, “Come, this side, and gather about these spiraling of stones, when all stand ready, we shall begin.” One by one they did as he instructed and soon all had encircled the old man’s encampment. He gestured for them to be seated on the ground as he was.
It was then, when they had begun to enjoy their meal, the host began speaking. “Several years ago, in my youth, many of our people traveled this way as pilgrims, and we greatly rejoiced to have even made it this far. For on this very spot, we gathered as a multitude, and where a most profound event occurred. We had gathered to rest, and then in seeing the need, it was we who built the only bridge that crosses the Blue River, that very one that led you here before me. The following day just before breaking camp, a stranger came among our host. He was a most frail looking, man but spoke bold words even unto our leader.
“He charged us to be true to ourselves, even more astonishing he called us to be single-minded in our allegiance to The One alone! In was in that very moment as he spoke, even a stone’s throw from the Great Sea before us an octopus came ashore, walked on its many legs and did sit upon the stranger’s foot, and began to speak, repeating stranger’s very words. Then from over our newly made bridge a thorned lizard came and sat upon the man’s other foot, and it too spoke aloud admonishing words the man and octopus had only uttered moments before!
“If those deeds were not the most astounding enough to witness, there suddenly came the crushing sound on a roaring wind with the beating of a thousand cicada wings that took flight from the forest’s canopy and they too did light upon the three, from head to foot. The insects covered both man and creatures and began to shrill as with a single echoing voice, saying, ‘Be faithful and true unto yourselves and more so even unto me for I am Eru, THE HOLY ONE, the originator of songs who sang all beings and things into existence!’ It was then that the octopus, lizard, and even the stranger himself -- vanished from sight. For the swarming host of cicadas dissipated in all directions like a wind-driven smoke from a fireless pit!” Instantly the shouting old man sprung to his feet startling all the seated devotees gathered about him on the ground.
The last of them had finished eating even as the old man had completed his story. Then motioning for them to join him on their feet the old man said, “I am Salamone, and am the last of those who remained behind of that departing multitude, and I have outlived them all who did stay behind”, then acknowledging that they had had no plates to bother with the old man added, “You may leave your empty cups on the ground before your feet.”
After they had done so, Salamone smiled, “I vividly recall the miracle that stranger displayed that evening. For that was ninety-six years ago on this very day, when Middle Earth witnessed something that had never been seen before nor even uttered during the long lives of Dwarves, Elves, or Men. This I share with you in truth, The One, Eru had never been manifested in flesh nor even on that night, but His VOICE alone! Neither was it of man or beast. For the VOICE was something utterly unworldly, and divine that was accomplished in the sight of us all and shared with you as truth.” The silent crowd was spellbound before the old man.
Salamone then said, “From the very moment when each of you accompanied one another on the road, you were being initiated into this very moment before you now. For henceforth none of you shall deny or ever forget what is about to occur. Each of you brought a stone, but now it is no longer yours! Look and see! For now, your very name has been erased as you are now in the presence of ERU! Behold the sigil of The One.”
Looking down at the rocks they had brought with them each person let out an astonished gasp of disbelief. The old man’s words were true. Their names had disappeared from the white stones and had been replaced with the black-etched outline of an eye symbol.
After they had done so, Salamone smiled, “I vividly recall the miracle that stranger displayed that evening. For that was ninety-six years ago on this very day, when Middle Earth witnessed something that had never been seen before nor even uttered during the long lives of Dwarves, Elves, or Men. This I share with you in truth, The One, Eru had never been manifested in flesh nor even on that night, but His VOICE alone! Neither was it of man or beast. For the VOICE was something utterly unworldly, and divine that was accomplished in the sight of us all and shared with you as truth.” The silent crowd was spellbound before the old man.
Salamone then said, “From the very moment when each of you accompanied one another on the road, you were being initiated into this very moment before you now. For henceforth none of you shall deny or ever forget what is about to occur. Each of you brought a stone, but now it is no longer yours! Look and see! For now, your very name has been erased as you are now in the presence of ERU! Behold the sigil of The One.”
Looking down at the rocks they had brought with them each person let out an astonished gasp of disbelief. The old man’s words were true. Their names had disappeared from the white stones and had been replaced with the black-etched outline of an eye symbol.
Only then did a young man break the crowd’s silence, and asked, “Master Salamone you indeed have all our collective attention. What is to happen next and where are we to go from here?”
A long pause passed as the old man walked in front of them, looking each one directly in their eyes, “With every twenty-fifth stone that is placed upon the ground a miracle has happened, for as that person stands upon them all as upon a stage they vanish before our eyes, never to be seen again. Or might I say, had never returned here to share their unknown, experiences.” Silence followed.
A woman who was third from the end asked, “Master, is that the reason why some of the stones have been painted red?”
“Most observant my dear, that is the very reason, and as we can all see, six stones from it leaves you as the chosen one among us with the twenty-fifth stone,” he said this, looking at the questioning woman.
“May I decline and be replaced by another?”
His smile faded, “If you so desire, another may –”
“I shall take her place, Master.” Salamone, nodded to a young man at the head of the line, and they switched places. Then, one by one the devotees laid their river stones next in line continuing the spiral upon the ground. One at a time they stood in the middle of the Spiral pathway. When nothing happened, they resumed their place in line. Then as the young man who had switched his place in line stepped up, he was instantly, no longer there! Everyone gasped aloud! The last two in line placed theirs and again as before, nothing happened.
With those remaining believers staring wide-eyed at the old man, he said, “Last night before you crossed the bridge, these red-capped mushrooms sprung up. In carefully taking them up and making a tincture of tea each one of you in turn will be offered a sip. You may all decline, or you may all accept, or maybe only a few shall brave a taste from this poisoned cup. But for those of you who do partake, you shall witness where that one has gone.”
It was then the same woman who had refused before asked, “Have you ever drank of your own tea?”
He smiled, “Cerintha of Kathos, to be honest, my dear, I have only tasted that from my dipped finger.” She was astonished he called her by name.
“Do you know us all by name and place, Master Salamone?”
“I do indeed, Sal’vinose of Mithar, once a Priest in the Third Order.”
An older man asked, “Sir, what about those who drank what had been offered them, what did they see?”
He answered with, ”I have seen what many have shared, but only those who drank did so of their own free will and have shared as they may of their own experience.”
Again, the older man asked, “What kind of stories did they tell?”
Salamone smiled, ”Only they may share if they so wish, in the most limiting of words to express the inexpressible things beheld in that unseen realm.”
A young man spoke up, ”I am Drewmel, son of Dothmel of Slavath. I made my first pilgrimage here seven years ago. I saw a lush field and hummingbird while I was – there, and it spoke to me, saying that he was made a Scribe for the Mistress of that Gazebo; she was a bearer of a God Stone.”
One asked, “Who is she?”
Then another asked, ”What is a God Stone?”
“What else did you see, Drewmel,” This time it was Salamone himself who asked?
“I was standing there,” he pointed to the spiraling of pebbles on the ground before everyone, “and then I was standing there, in the midst of four, huge Standing Stones near the Oasis of Orid, but for some time in-between here and there I was in the lush field speaking to the bird of the gazebo.”
Cerintha said, “There are no standing stones near the Oasis, for I have been there many times to trade with the Bedouins of Orid.”
“Do not ask me how I know, but only that I do; four years from now the first of the great standing pillars shall appear to the wonder and speculation of the entire realm.”
With that Master Salamone added, “As I said before, none of you will be unchanged by this experience, and in answer to your previous question, these are the God stones, and this is their power: to know without knowing how.” All the while he had been collecting and preparing the mushrooms from a small fire that had only now begun to show its light as evening was drawing near. It was then Salamone had completed his tea made from the mushrooms, and slowly walked in front of that gathering a second time and offered a single goblet for them to partake of their own.
A woman who was third from the end asked, “Master, is that the reason why some of the stones have been painted red?”
“Most observant my dear, that is the very reason, and as we can all see, six stones from it leaves you as the chosen one among us with the twenty-fifth stone,” he said this, looking at the questioning woman.
“May I decline and be replaced by another?”
His smile faded, “If you so desire, another may –”
“I shall take her place, Master.” Salamone, nodded to a young man at the head of the line, and they switched places. Then, one by one the devotees laid their river stones next in line continuing the spiral upon the ground. One at a time they stood in the middle of the Spiral pathway. When nothing happened, they resumed their place in line. Then as the young man who had switched his place in line stepped up, he was instantly, no longer there! Everyone gasped aloud! The last two in line placed theirs and again as before, nothing happened.
With those remaining believers staring wide-eyed at the old man, he said, “Last night before you crossed the bridge, these red-capped mushrooms sprung up. In carefully taking them up and making a tincture of tea each one of you in turn will be offered a sip. You may all decline, or you may all accept, or maybe only a few shall brave a taste from this poisoned cup. But for those of you who do partake, you shall witness where that one has gone.”
It was then the same woman who had refused before asked, “Have you ever drank of your own tea?”
He smiled, “Cerintha of Kathos, to be honest, my dear, I have only tasted that from my dipped finger.” She was astonished he called her by name.
“Do you know us all by name and place, Master Salamone?”
“I do indeed, Sal’vinose of Mithar, once a Priest in the Third Order.”
An older man asked, “Sir, what about those who drank what had been offered them, what did they see?”
He answered with, ”I have seen what many have shared, but only those who drank did so of their own free will and have shared as they may of their own experience.”
Again, the older man asked, “What kind of stories did they tell?”
Salamone smiled, ”Only they may share if they so wish, in the most limiting of words to express the inexpressible things beheld in that unseen realm.”
A young man spoke up, ”I am Drewmel, son of Dothmel of Slavath. I made my first pilgrimage here seven years ago. I saw a lush field and hummingbird while I was – there, and it spoke to me, saying that he was made a Scribe for the Mistress of that Gazebo; she was a bearer of a God Stone.”
One asked, “Who is she?”
Then another asked, ”What is a God Stone?”
“What else did you see, Drewmel,” This time it was Salamone himself who asked?
“I was standing there,” he pointed to the spiraling of pebbles on the ground before everyone, “and then I was standing there, in the midst of four, huge Standing Stones near the Oasis of Orid, but for some time in-between here and there I was in the lush field speaking to the bird of the gazebo.”
Cerintha said, “There are no standing stones near the Oasis, for I have been there many times to trade with the Bedouins of Orid.”
“Do not ask me how I know, but only that I do; four years from now the first of the great standing pillars shall appear to the wonder and speculation of the entire realm.”
With that Master Salamone added, “As I said before, none of you will be unchanged by this experience, and in answer to your previous question, these are the God stones, and this is their power: to know without knowing how.” All the while he had been collecting and preparing the mushrooms from a small fire that had only now begun to show its light as evening was drawing near. It was then Salamone had completed his tea made from the mushrooms, and slowly walked in front of that gathering a second time and offered a single goblet for them to partake of their own.
Three refused to rest drink from the cup. To those who refused the old man said, “You may watch from behind the tables where you first entered, and you who have tasted from the cup may now be seated once again.” When all had complied, their host stood in the middle of the spiraling pebbles and raised both of his hands skyward, “Eru Illuvatar! Grand God, you who are alone worthy of praise for whom even the Vala stand in awe, allow us briefly to know your presence for ourselves.” With that, the old man vanished from their sight!
One of the three, a Valinsor by name, ran in fright over the bridge and never looked back. The two others beyond the tables stayed and watched as their companions lay flat upon the ground, even as some had begun to shake uncontrollably as in a fit of fever. Long into the night, they watched even until dawn. Only at its breaking did their fits and fevers subsided. Some awoke and began speaking in hushed whispers with one another, as others sat up tearfully embracing. They all had expressions of joy on their face as the old man suddenly reappeared.
The two near the tables, Tanran and Filasbar, (both of Kathos), who had not drunk of the cup also ran off in search of Valinsor, who had run off before them.
When all had regained themselves, and shared their experiences, Salamone admonished the gathering to never share with outsiders, “For in truth only now do you begin to understand the origin of Witches! Indeed, they began from here, like the Mitharian Apostates, you too have begun to think and see things for yourselves. The Order of that Brotherhood condemns such independent thinking.
“Behold! Eru is beyond man’s simple comprehension even as the Vala themselves are but splintering manifestations of his thoughts, and they are far from understanding the totality of The One!” With many such things did he teach and share with them and they with him. A few weeks later, after they returned home, many found themselves unable to return to the teachings of Varlendur’s Tower cult; for with their many questions, they found themselves cast out and shunned by the very ones who confessed to love them eternally. A year later, another returning group shared that Salamone had been slain, apparently soon after they left, with no one claiming responsibility.
. . .
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