Gift Of the Stag
Story by Cederwyn Whitefurr on SoFurry
A man pledges himself, body and soul, to one of the Elder Gods...
The Gift of the Stag
© Cederwyn Whitefurr
17th of January, 2024
All Rights Reserved.
Fanfic of "The Gift" involving Herne.
- A custom writing prompt from a Telegram Writing Group -
In the quiet village of Eldridge, nestled at the edges of an ancient and mysterious forest, a young man lived a quiet, simple life. His name was known only to the wind that whispered through the towering trees. He was generally shunned by the other villagers, due to his perceived crimes that had allegedly been numerous and unnatural.
Some claimed he consummated with beasts, some claimed he was a vile and powerful witch, others claimed he wasn't even human – a skin-changer, a werebeast that'd come in the night and devour the adults and steal away their children...
He didn't care, their cruel words and stones they threw at him mattered not...he knew who he was, and what he was...that was all that mattered.
*
Early one night, the moon, pregnant and silver, shone down upon him, dressed in a moth-eaten and dirt-edged robe, his hand clutching an old, gnarled oak branch as he made his way into the forest, its dark depths enfolding him into their mysterious and ancient embrace...
Through paths unknown to others, he wandered, guided by an unseen force that seemed to pull him deeper into the moonlit woods. As shadows danced like eldritch spirits amongst the boughs and the air grew thick with the scent of the mosses and lichens that adorned the trees, the subtle scent of the soil beneath his booted feet brought him comfort.
Something, elusive, hidden, watched him – he could feel its presence moving amongst the shadows, watching, wary...
Drawn by forces beyond his mortal comprehension, he made his way to the depths of the ancient wood, where a stone altar, older than the woods themselves, sat, bathed in the light of the silvery moon that shone down. Here, he knelt, placing his staff on the ground, as he began to pray in a language that few knew, and even fewer would understand.
Around him, the very forest itself grew still, the moonlight above him seeming to intensify as if focussing itself upon him and the altar itself. A silvery glow began to manifest in the stone, casting an unnatural and otherworldly illumination upon the cold granite surface.
His incantations grew in intensity, the whispering of the wind through the leaves intensified – then as if by magick itself – fell into a deathly silence – a few leaves fluttering down towards the ground.
His ritual had not gone unnoticed...
*
As he glanced up, he saw twin emerald green eyes, that burned like faerie fire, materialize in the shadowy woods. Like a ghost, it glided forwards, before materializing into an imposing figure.
It was human-shaped, yet that's where the similarities ended...
It approached the altar, then stopped...
It stood before the altar, a towering presence that seemed to defy the boundaries of human conception or even imagination...
Atop its head rested an impressive rack of antlers, greater than any stag that'd had ever lived and walked the woods. The antlers bore tips that shimmered beneath the moonlight as if adorned with silver far purer than anything that mortals had witnessed. Inscribed upon the antlers, were powerful runes, intricately carved and aglow with a faerie fire, that mirrored the intensity in its eyes.
The head, reminiscent of that of a deer, held an otherworld visage. Its eyes, burning with that same faerie fire, gazed about, the leaf-like ears twitching, before it looked down, then blinked once. That fire vanished, leaving orbs of a dark, woodland brown, filled with wisdom and intelligence that was unfathomable.
A thick mane cascaded around its neck, flowing to mid-chest down the ornate tunic that adorned its upper body and ended just above its furred knees. The legs, powerful and muscular, bent like those of a stag, were of a lighter brown, ending in dark, cloven hooves that sank slightly into the forest loam beneath them.
Again, it looked around, its exhalations coming in a misty fog, one ear flicking, before it looked down and extended a hand – a hand that defied the normality of anatomy. The fingers numbered three, resembling the cloven hooves that adorned its lower extremities. The hand, with dewclaws adorning the wrist, moved with a considered, careful grace, rotating and making a beckoning gesture toward the human before it.
“Arise, seeker - “ spoke the stag, its voice resonating throughout the moonlit grove with an air of confidence, wisdom, and the raw power that flowed within its intimidating form. “For I am Lord Herne. You have called to me, and I have come. Now, speak that which lies unspoken within your heart, for I must hear the words, given freely and willingly, tell me of your desires."
Keeping his respectful posture, the man knelt before the altar, feeling a tremble ripple through him of trepidation and awe. The presence of Lord Herne, the Forest Master, the embodiment of the wild and guardian of the ancient forests, commanded reverence and respect. Gathering his courage, the man swallowed and lifted his head, gazing up into Lord Herne's deep, intense eyes.
He spoke quietly, speaking from his heart as he'd been instructed, without malice or ill intent. He laid out his life before the Forest Lord – his darkest secrets, his torment and suffering at the hands of the villagers, and finally – his heartfelt desire and longing.
At last, his words trailed away and Lord Herne stood impassively, his body not even breathing, a still as stone and about as expressionate. Around them, the forest seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting Lord Herne's answer to the mortal's plea.
“You have spoken truth, from the heart," Lord Herne looked down, his demeanor intimidating and impassive.
Like a glacier grinding down a mountain pass, the edges of Lord Herne's muzzle twitched, his firm lips slightly lifting in the barest hint of a smile.
“This speaks well of your character. For if you had tried to sway me through mistruths or false accusations... I would not be so considerate in my judgment..."
“Thank you, Lord Herne - “ Spoke the man with reverence and gratitude.
Lord Herne placed a hand against his furred chin, his eyes slightly narrowing behind his dark lids as he contemplated deeply.
“Your request..."
Holding his breath, the man supplicated himself before the altar, his body trembling. He'd dared to request of Lord Herne, one that he knew carried consequences of a dire nature – yet he had spoken only truth and his heartfelt desire.
“Is..." Lord Herne whispered.
Kneeling on one knee, Lord Herne placed a hand on the back of the human's neck.
“Granted..."
*
As the first shimmering rays of dawn touched the edges of the woods, the intimate communion between Lord Herne and the human had been consummated...
In the quietness of the dawn, Lord Herne arose, his majestic form graced by the final touches of the moon's caresses. He brushed leaves and loam off his body with a wave of his paws, then shook himself, the residual debris falling away. With a single thought, his clothing materialized from the very fabric of the ether itself, draping his divine form modestly once more.
Before his cloven hooves, now lay a stag. The noble creature's beautiful pelt rose and fell with the exhausted rhythm of its breath, the body glistening with a sheen of sweat that spoke of the shared intensity of their communion.
As pre-dawn brought with it a serene stillness, and the forest seemed to sigh as the moon surrendered to the sun's gentle embrace, Lord Herne knelt and placed a hand against the stag's neck, giving a gentle caress.
Rising, Lord Herne smiled and turned about, heading back into the edges of the shadowy woods, before he paused, his hand flat against an ancient oak, and he glanced back over his shoulder, once more, his lips twitching in a slight smile. As he walked into the shadows, his body grew misty, then turned etherial, before vanishing like the morning fog itself...
What had transpired, would be a secret between this new Stag – and Lord Herne himself, a secret shared, and a secret kept, beneath the ancient canopy of the wild woods...
END