Cultural Myths of Julianos #1 - The Exodus of Jhunal

(Author’s note: the following is an ancient myth surrounding Jhunal, the Nordic god of writing, magic (the “clever craft”) and strategy. It seems to have been heavily suppressed; several charred copies have been recovered from excavated Nordic ruins. Only 3 complete works have ever been found, 2 of which reside in private collections. This copy was transcribed from the third, kept at the Bard’s College in Sollitude, which was kind enough to allow me access to it.
-Lorekeeper Aurelius Aelius-Kyneweard of the Imperial Offices of Provincial History.)

[Part 1: Council]
Shor son of Shor seethed with a rage they all could feel as they rode Kyne’s breath back to Hrothgar. He stomped away in disgust when they landed, disturbing the snow-whales resting above (and this is why they seldom rest on the clouds of Hrothgar). Attendants came to the sides of each of them, save Jhunal, to hear news of the Moot. His clan was not present among the gathering armies. Worse still, his jarl Magnar had not attended the Moot to stand for either side, which had caused great duress among the House of We. Since then none had even looked upon Jhunal save his brother, who glared at him with two sets of mistrusting eyes. When Jhunal dared call a War Council, Tsun challenged him, mocking his elven games of troop movement and coordinated Clever Craft, longing to strike directly at the Chief of Ald, whose insults had been many. Mara rose to calm him, but Shor Shouted for silence and Stuhn sat back down before the fire. The rest of them gathered around.
“It is true that a Nord is better than three or four of the best Elf,” Jhunal began, “but the tribes of Ald outnumber us far more than that. The very world quakes beneath us. If this war continues as it has, all will be lost, and our people will die.”
“I must advise the unadvisable.”
The winds picked up as Kyne’s eyes widened in anger, but Shor simply stared into the fire.
“Milk-drinker!” Tsun roared. “We would rather die than bend our knees in surrender to to those pointy-eared bastards!”
“You cannot speak for them all, brother,” Mara whispered.
“She is right,” Shor answered before Tsun could respond. His eyes hadn’t moved from the fire as he spoke. “You are the Handmaiden, beloved by all the tribes. Go unto the tribes of Ald, and bear the banner of peace-talk; Jhunal can craft it for you.” He almost spat the name. With that, he rose to end the council.
“If Magnar had stood with us,” he said quietly, “the Moot may not have led to war. Still, we must look forward to achieve victory.” He walked away as the First Dusk began to fall on the world.

[Part 2: Survival Tactics]
Beneath the blazing light of the newly-formed stars, a Wolf and an Owl sat at the foot of the Mountain, discussing strategy, or perhaps treachery.
“You know the price the Tribes of Ald will demand, sister. Shor son of Shor has burned many fields and executed many prisoners. The King will not let the Rebel live.”
“The Nords will never abandon him,” the Wolf retorted, “for they love him as we all do. Nor will his Shield-Thanes and my Mistress ever allow him to give himself up.”
“I know this,” the owl cooed softly, “but I have deduced a strategy to save our people, one that may yet even lead to victory. If Shor challenges Ald to honorable combat for rulership, he will fall, since he has been half-dead since the Moot anyway, but our people will live on. They will scatter from the mountaintop at his loss, but they will rise again in a new land, stronger than ever, strong enough to crush the elves and retake all mountaintops, in time.”
“Shor will never agree to it.”
“If Ald challenges him, he will be honor-bound to accept, or shame will diminish him greater still.”
“Ald will never agree to that, either!” The Wolf barked. Jhunal repeated himself. “If Shor challenges him, he will be honor-bound to accept, or shame will diminish him greater still.”
Mara narrowed her eyes in understanding, for she was clever as well.
The Wolf was silent for a long time. She was hesitant, but Jhunal was apprentice to Magnar, the wisest of them all (and Mara secretly thought him wise indeed to lead his clan away from war), and a powerful Clever Man despite Tsun’s disdain. Finally she whispered, “I would be a murderer.”
“A mother will do anything to protect her children. Sometimes mothers -and fathers- must make difficult decisions. To protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
He shifted, and handed the folded banner to Mara, who tucked it away in her flowing robes before racing away, howling into the glittering night.

[Part 3: Exodus]
The world had shifted. The war was over, and a treaty was under negotiation. The three had met at the Adamantine House to do battle; only one had returned. Shor son of Shor had been cut down; his ghost whispered to them even now. Ald had risen to High Chieftain, and the Shield-Thane was maimed beyond all recognition. The Elders never learned of the Wolf’s plot, yet she bore the guilt in her heart forevermore, and harbored a hard heart towards Jhunal for it (and this is why love often defies reason).
Jhunal, having foresight, had gathered all the attendant spirits who would follow him into a great parliament, who together took the owl-wing northward, to council the fleeing Nords as best they could. (This is why their are almost no owls in Skyrim). During his flight the flow of Untime reached him, a result of his intrigue, and his sister Mnemth descended from the heavens to speak with him, her wings radiant with aetherial splendor. She spoke to him of Magnar’s regret at Jhunal’s loss of station, and of his consolation to him: that even as she would serve as Magnar’s new Scribe, Jhunal would become his Grand Archivist, keeping note of (and more importantly, having access to) the Elder Scrolls throughout all of time, as no other would be wise enough to keep them. This was a great honor, and allowed Jhunal the Apprentice to achieve mastery and become the Eye of the Mage, shining brightly above his people. In this new land he would become an Elder in his own right, beloved and respected by the Nords.
But Jhunal again had foresight, and knew that as his people migrated back southward to their homeland, the resentment of the Wolf and the Whale would seep into the hearts of the Nords. And so when the Men of Ut-Cyrodd, with the aid of his people, would one day ready themselves to overthrow their Elven conquerors, Jhunal would be prepared to aid them, to be their bulwark, and become an Elder twice-venerated.