Neither wears a cloak, instead favoring (from Shea's POV) "strange close-fitting outfits". I usually take this to mean that the elves wear tailored coats instead of cloaks and it's a clothing item that just has not hit the world of men yet (hence why Shea doesn't recognize them).
Both wear clothes that blend in with the woods around them.
Both carry an ash bow and a long knife.
Both have sharply raised eyebrows and pointed ears. These are Elven features.
They're not given a hair color in the tsos but the Hildebrandt art portrays both with pale blond hair.
Both are slim, but Dayel is smaller than Durin.
Dayel Elessedil
Looks young enough that Shea was surprised to learn he could get married. He's said to be several years younger than Shea and not yet 20.
Uniquely described as frail...kinda. Shea is sometimes described as frail compared to the forces hunting him, but Dayel is the sole character described as frail on his own.
Dayel is the smallest member of the Culhaven company. I assume he's not shorter than Hendel but he's both shorter and slighter than everyone else.
Durin Elessedil
He's never identified as being particularly young in the same way his brother is...which likely means he's close in age to or older than Shea and thus several years older than Dayel.
During the battle of Tyrsis, his left shoulder is crushed by a troll's mace.
Eventine Elessedil
He's big for an elf, which makes him roughly the size of an average man.
He looks to be about 35. In teos he's 82, making him 32 during tsos.
He's not given a hair color is tsos, but the world of shannara depicts a young Eventine with long dark hair.
His face is strong-featured but plain, with nothing but the eyes being particularly notable. Throughout tsos, his face appears cut and battered.
His eyes are deep green during tsos and startlingly blue in teos. He has a piercing and frightening gaze that reflects determination and demands obedience.
Introduced wearing the woodland garb and the remnants of a chain mail vest. Later adds a poncho and broadsword to the look. Between his capture and escape, everything he's wearing is quite battered.
Jon Lin Sandor
His hair is closely cropped.
He's quite close in age to Eventine.
If he is the elf who finds Shea at the end of tsos, then his eyes are green, his face is hard-featured, and he's tall.
How terribly fate had treated the old King! His firstborn and his closest friend were dead. His beloved granddaughter was lost. His country was overrun by an enemy he could not defeat. He himself had been betrayed in the end by an animal that he had trusted. Everything had been stripped from him. What was it that kept him alive after all that he had suffered? Surely death would come as a welcome relief.
Fancasting The World of Shannara ↬ Gabriel Byrne as Eventine Elessedil
This is a the second chapter to a h/c fic for Allanon. You can also read it here on AO3.
Fandom: Shannara (TV show), Pairing: Allanon x Pyria, Rating: Mature
Chapter 1
Summary: Allanon faces off with his long time enemy, the Warlock Lord, knowing in his heart that he won’t survive this stand off. Memories of his past come unbidden into his mind. He can’t help but remember the many times that he’s stood against evil, but he also remembers the times he spent with the woman that he loved.
In This Chapter: Pyria and Eventine race to find Allanon and warn him that the Warlock Lord has returned, before he discovers Allanon’s location and destroys the last Druid......
Present Time
Steel sparked against steel as the Warlock Lord and Allanon battled for the four lands. Allanon could feel the power behind the other man’s sword and he knew that it wasn’t because the Warlock Lord was stronger, it was because he was weaker. He blocked the sword and was dealt with a blow across the face, dropping him to his knees.
“Get up.” The Warlock Lord hissed. The dark Druid always liked a good fight, and especially loved to see his victim struggling to survive. It was a sick delight that Allanon had become accustomed to experiencing when it came to the fallen Druid.
Allanon wasn’t about to give him exactly what he wanted. If he wanted a fight he would get it, but he would not be so easily defeated. He got to his feet and continued on. The Warlock Lord might be stronger, but his technique with a sword wasn’t as good as his. He tried to avoid prolonged contact, but soon their blades crossed and he was being forced down again. He refused to give up this easily and pushed back, struggling under the strength of the Warlock Lord.
He saw a glint in the other man’s eye and knew what was coming only a few moments before the dark magic connected with the center of his chest. He was flung backwards across the ground, trying to catch his breath from the impact. He could see Cogline move forward to engage the foe, and took this moment to attempt to recuperate.
He summoned what magic he could spare to heal himself just enough to fight again. He winced as another bright flash of red light lit up the space. Cogline was flung back from the fight and lay in a crumpled heap. The time for resting was over.
Allanon looked away from Cogline. He’d been injured by the Warlock Lord’s dark magic, but luckily he was still alive. He watched as the dark man stepped from the smoke. It looked like Cogline had managed to injure him, but not nearly enough. He braced himself to fight when he heard his name called.
“Father!” Mareth appeared at the foot of the stairs, her eyes widened in fear at the sight of the man across from him.
Allanon looked at his daughter. She was afraid, but like her mother she refused to let that fear control her. She didn’t turn and run, and he wished that she would. “Get out of here!” He shouted to her. He’d lost so much in his life, that he couldn't watch her be destroyed. He was destined to die here, but that did not mean she had to sacrifice herself here as well.
He heard the sound of metal scrapping against concrete and turned just in time to see the Warlock Lord send an old car directly at him. The box of old twisted steel struck him, slamming him back against the wall. The back of his head struck the wall and the world swirled into familiar blackness. This wasn’t the first time the Warlock Lord had tossed him against a wall……
Pyria sat next to Ashala on the top step of the throne room. “I don’t see a reason to be stressed about it, Eventine.” She smiled up at her brother who was wringing his hands. “It’s just another gathering.”
She laughed at the way Eventine got so flustered over celebration planning. He was strict and organized, perfect qualities for a leader, but not perfect for celebration planning. “We do this every time we get a new batch of the chosen, just do as we did last time.”
Eventine looked down from his throne at the two women. “I really should just put you in charge of all of these things.” He sighed. “You have a much better taste when it comes to having fun and decorating.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me.” Pyria shook her head with a laugh, looking up as two young children raced into the room. Crispin and Ander seemed to be playing some sort of game that involved Ander chasing the other boy with a stick.
“Ander!” Eventine frowned at his youngest. “What did we say about running inside the throne room?”
Ander and Crispin skidded to a halt and glanced at each other. “Sorry, father.” The little curly haired boy mumbled.
Ashala cleared her throat and looked pointedly at her own son. “Crispin.”
“Sorry, King Elessedil” The other boy stuttered over the words.
Eventine couldn’t hold back his own smile regardless of how stern he attempted to look. “I accept your apology. Now don’t do it again.”
Pyria looked up as the doors swung open again and General Edensong walked in. “Papa!” the boy playing with her nephew raced into the arms of his father. She felt a warm feeling of happiness spreading in her chest as the general lifted his son into his arms.
She glanced at Ashala as she too got up to greet her husband. The General had been out at the border checking in with the guards for a few weeks and now the family celebrated being together again. It was almost bitter sweet witnessing the reunion. The years had gone by and everyone around her changed, but she felt trapped in the same place.
When Allanon had disappeared Ashala had assured her that she’d find someone new, but she hadn’t met anyone that made her feel the same way. She didn’t think she was still hung up on the mysterious man that had disappeared with almost no goodbye, but she’d never been interested in finding someone else. She almost felt guilty watching Ashala with her family, feeling a sense of envy. It must be nice to have someone to share a bed with, and to raise a family with. She forced a smile so that Eventine didn’t notice. The last thing she needed was another conversation with her brother about her lack of a spouse.
“What is the word from the border, General?” Eventine asked him, clearly pleased to be off the subject of the celebration.
General Edensong pulled himself away from his family handing his son back to his wife. “It’s strange tidings, my King.” He approached the throne with a look of grave concern on his face.
Eventine frowned. “How so?”
“There are creatures of smoke and shadow moving about.” The General noted his king’s brow furrow. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen one myself, they have been harassing the guards and random citizens.”
By harassing, Pyria assumed that he meant they’d left bodies in their wake. She’d spent enough time with her brother to read between the lines when they spoke in code to avoid any sense of panic leaking out to the people.
Eventine rubbed his beard slowly. “Why now? Do we know what they are, or why they are... harassing people?”
“I heard they are hosting interrogations. They are able to speak apparently.” The General seemed to be rather shaken, which was surprising and troubling. “They are asking for the whereabouts of the Druid.”
Pyria felt her breath turn to ice in her throat. Shadow creatures that were looking for Allanon and leaving bodies in their wake, this was worse than simply strange. She slowly glanced at her brother and she could tell he was just as concerned.
“We need to warn the Druid.” Eventine was on his feet. “He should know that some dark force is searching for him, and perhaps he can explain exactly what it is.”
“Easier said than done.” General Edensong pointed out. “No one has heard from the Druid in years.”
“I know where he is.” Pyria announced. The room grew silent as the two elves turned to her. “A year after the Druid left us, I was curious as to why he didn’t return.” She saw the look in her brother’s eyes. He knew that she’d fancied the man when she was younger. She rose to her feet deliberately looking away from her brother. “He taught me how to read some of the Druid text, and I believe I know where he is.”
She could pretend that his running off the way he did didn’t hurt her, but it wasn’t true. He knew that if he cast the spell that he’d have to go into a Druid Sleep to recover, but he hadn’t told her. She had considered him her friend and thought that he had at least owed her the truth when it came to that, but clearly he hadn’t felt the same way.
“Alright.” Eventine slowly sighed. “Let me know the location. I’ll ride out with the General personally and warn him.”
“It may not be that simple.” Pyria carefully crossed her arms watching her brother. He knew nothing about the ways of the Druids. Allanon would not be awake, and waking him up could be impossible. “We might need to protect him, not warn him.”
She could see the skepticism on his face. “Allanon had to go into a hibernative state to recover from the spell he used to protect Paranor.” She could see more confusion on her brother’s face, and knew explaining this to him would take too long. “Time is wasting. I know more about the situation than you do. I’ll ride with you.”
“Pyria….” Her brother attempted to protest, but she held her hand up to him.
“Don’t argue. I have decided.” She told him firmly. “You know that you need me on this quest, don’t be foolish.”
Eventine looked as if he wanted to protest, but it was clear that he was thinking it over. “You’re right, Pyria. We leave in within the hour.”
Pyria smiled pleasantly at her brother, glad that he’d come to his senses. She made her way to her room to get ready feeling a strange sense of nervousness tickling about in her chest. What would it be like to see Allanon again? She wondered if it would feel the same as before, but she doubted it. He would be asleep, and as much as she wanted to wake him she knew that she probably wouldn’t be able to.
It was the same nightmare. He was standing in the middle of a hall overflowing with celebration and festivities. People from every race moved around him, bowing to him as they passed. He was in control of every last one of them. His slim fingers brushed over the steel crown that he wore. He was king of all the Four Lands and there was no one left to defy him. The great doors at the end of the hall blew open with enough force to break the wood into pieces. He felt the chill of fear plunge into his heart like a cold blade. He wanted to flee or defend himself, but he could never change the course of the dream. The shadow appeared. The Druid.
He pulled his sword free of its sheath and heard the all too familiar answering sound of the druid blade unfolding. The metal clicking together was something that haunted him even when he was awake.
He created a shield of magic to defend himself, but the Druid simply walked through the barrier as if it were made of dust. "Curse you!" He screamed as the blade arched up slicing down through his shoulder and into his chest.
"I am the last of the Druids, and I will destroy you." The voice thundered in his ears as the blade turned to fire in his chest. He could feel his body being slowly torn apart.
Brona, the Warlock Lord, bolted awake. He pulled himself into a sitting position feeling the shortness of breath and cold sweat racing down his back that he’d become accustomed to. It was always the same dream that pulled him from his sleep, instilling a deep sense of fear. He didn’t like the feeling. It was a weakness, and it left a bitter taste at the back of his tongue.
He rubbed the palm of his hand across his forehead, brushing away the sweat that had collected there. He knew better than to consider this a dream. It was a vision. A vision of his destruction. This remaining Druid was the last thing on this earth that could destroy him. Others had tried before, they had destroyed his body, but he had survived. He’d spent years upon years recovering in a tiny shack at the edge of the Wilderun, and he refused to have it be for naught.
He pulled himself off the bed and made his way across the rickety little building. It was one room and he could smell the mold on the walls. He refused to live this way much longer, but he also refused to accept death. He pushed the door open and stepped into the sunlight. He could feel the heat of the sun on his bare skin and for a moment he just enjoyed the feeling. It had taken years for him to even get close enough to a point where he could walk, let alone feel the sun on his face. It was a feeling he didn’t take for granted.
He opened his eyes and scanned the horizon. When the visions had first started coming to him he’d been unable to speak, but once his tongue was loosed he’d sent his Skull Bearers out to find the Druid. They had been searching for some months now, but none had returned for a report. Wisdom bade him to remain hidden from the world, but impatience demanded action.
He made his way back into the shack and pulled on his old clothes. They were slightly tattered, but appearances didn’t mean a thing to him. They would serve to protect him on his journey. The Skull Bearers were decent helpers, but their ability to reason was limited. They were searching for the man in the flesh, but for some reason the Druid wasn’t at Paranor, so they spiraled outwards.
Moving away from Paranor was a mistake. Brona knew the Druid would be drawn there and at the very least there would be a hint that his Bearers hadn’t seen. He made his way out of the shack again and turned to the horse they’d brought him. It wasn’t much of a creature, but it was enough to take him to the keep.
The ride was long, but Brona had been lying in rest for many years. It was almost refreshing to travel such a distance. As he crossed over the desert that had once been something greater he could see Paranor rising in the distance. A lesser man might attempt to run from his fate, but not the Warlock Lord. He understood fate. You couldn’t run from it, but you could meet with it head on and change it.
He could feel shivers of fear racing up and down his spine threatening to invade his mind, but he swallowed it back. As he neared the keep he felt a tingle in the back of his mind suggesting that he’d wasted his time and that there was nothing to be found here. “Clever.” He whispered beneath his breath. It was why the Skull Bearers hadn’t found anything, this place was cloaked with a spell. He dismounted several yards away from the door to the keep and scanned the place with his well-trained eyes. Yes, he could detect a barrier shielding the old keep. He smirked as he stepped up to the barrier. He could see Paranor on the other side, but it was not the safehold that it used to be. No, this Paranor was covered in dust and death. The Druid Order had been torn apart and their blood had painted those walls. The Druids had gotten what they deserved, and he had seen to it. He closed his eyes still being able to hear the cries of the dying. This wasn't a safehold, it was a crypt.
He reached his hand up and tapped on the barrier with his finger. He hissed as the flesh sheared off almost to bone. He turned his hand over looking at the charred flesh. Many people would react in anger, but that wasn’t something that he was feeling. He was feeling a sense of delight. He looked up from his hand and spotted a book lying on the ground just inside the barrier. The elements had mostly destroyed it, but the cover made of durable leather remained jutting out of the sand.
The Druid had cast a spell to keep the forces of evil out of the keep. It was almost poetic, because now Paranor was the one place that the Druid could be safe from him and yet he wouldn’t be there. A spell this powerful would have dreadful repercussions. No doubt the Druid would be called into the Sleep, and he would not be in any condition to go far.
Brona turned and sprang back unto his horse, knowing exactly where to go. The time to strike was now, the Druid was vulnerable. He didn’t believe in luck, but he believed those who challenged fate were rewarded. He drove the horse at a furious pace toward the closest Druid cave. The horse was worn from the journey, but he didn’t care if it dropped dead once they arrived. Today, he would kill that last Druid.
He reigned the horse to a halt at the edge of the cave entrance. He could feel the sense of victory welling up inside of him. Unless he had terribly miscalculated, the Druid would be here, completely defenseless. He slipped off the horse and drew his sword. The dark magic in the blade raced into his hand and up his arm as he stepped into the darkness in front of him.
He could see the man lying on the stone table in front of him. He looked younger than he thought he’d be. He tried to recall his face in his memory, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Most of the Druids were faceless in his memory. There were those that he hated, and then there were simply the ones he’d murdered.
Walking up to the table, he kicked a dusty pile of clothes out of his way. He rested his hand on the edge of the table and leaned over the unconscious man. “How did you escape?” He mused to himself. “Bremen was more powerful than you, but I cut him to pieces. Where did he hide you?” He laughed to himself, his eyes flitted over the body of the Druid. He noted the lines running over his arms and his fingers. The spell had taken its toll on him and he’d probably be riddled with more scars, but the Druid wouldn’t have to be worried about scars if he was dead.
It was almost disappointing that the Druid was so defenseless. There would be no fight here, but he did hope that he would wake up when the sword pierced his heart. He wanted to see the life vanish from his eyes with the knowledge that Brona had succeeded in his quest to destroy the Druid order. “Time to die, Druid.” He hissed, channeling his magic back into the sword. He raised the sword above his head prepared to bring the blade down through the other man’s heart.
The runes etched into the walls around them began to glow like embers settled in a fire pit. Brona, consumed with blood lust, didn’t notice the telltale warning signs, all he could see was the man lying in front of him. He plunged his sword down, tip first, toward the Druid’s heart.
He heard the sound of metal clicking together. Steel building upon itself. The noise that echoed in his nightmares. The Druid’s hand moved quickly, his blade slipping in front of the tip of Brona’s blade. The dark blade slipped off the Druid sword and missed the intended target, instead it sliced down through the top of the man’s shoulder.
The Druid released a muffled cry as he rolled off the table. Brona stumbled back a step at the unexpected movement. He’d wanted a fight, but there was something about the Druid foiling his quick kill that made him annoyed. He reached forward with his free hand and summoned dark magic. Death by a sword was a better way to go than being ripped apart by dark magic. The Druid had brought this fate on himself by resisting.
Allanon was walking down the shores of the sea. He looked across the waters and could see the strange outline of Paranor in the distance. It wasn’t the Paranor he’d left behind, this one was the resting place of the spirits of the Druid order. He could sometimes speak with the others in his dreams, but only when they chose to appear to him.
He turned away from the sea and suddenly found himself inside Paranor. He inhaled a quick breath in surprise, the smell of death filled his lungs. He froze, barely daring to breathe or move. Glancing around him, he could see blood over the walls, bodies lying broken and bleeding on the floor. There was no sound, not even the sound of wind. It was silent. He could feel his blood turning to ice as he slowly started walking down the hall.
A hand reached up and grabbed his ankle. He spun around, ripping his foot clear of the man on the floor. To his horror, he was looking down at a bleeding Bremen. His master’s eyes were clouded white in death, but still his mouth moved. He couldn’t hear the words, but they echoed in his mind.
“He is coming."
Allanon stumbled back, feeling a sudden urge to flee the keep. "You....you're not supposed to be here." He stumbled over another body lying on the floor, but he couldn't take his eyes off the sight of his master. "You didn't die here, this is a mistake."
"Wake up!”
Allanon’s eyes flew open and instinctively activated his sword, drawing it up to protect himself. A blade glanced off his shoulder, the pain shocking him into full alertness as it sliced through his skin. He gasped in surprise, rolling off the table just as a powerful blast of magic struck the very place he once was.
The sickening sound of stone breaking echoed inside the cave. He could hear the table cracking apart, and feel it in his soul. The man that had entered the cave was powerful enough to destroy a Druid table. Shards of broken rock flew around him. He reached up to shield his eyes as a piece cut into the skin just above his right eyebrow.
The shock wave, released as the magic within the table was destroyed, hit him next. His body was lifted from the ground and slammed into the back of the cave wall as if he was nothing but a simple doll. He could hear the sound of his ribs give way as he hit, feeling a wave of blistering heat wash over his exposed side. He could tell that his entire right side from his ankle, up his leg, back, and arm were covered in severe burns. The shock of what was happening numbed his body to the pain briefly, and stole his breath. He tried to breathe in, but all he could do was pull in a weak shaky gasp of air.
The cloaked figure moved forward, his hand lighting up with another flame of red magic. Allanon’s ears were ringing from impacting with the wall, but through the fog he could hear the cold laughter. He also heard something else. It sounded like someone was calling his name. He heard it again and forced himself to his feet. He stared back at the shadow that approached him.
The man cloaked in shadows lifted his arm, preparing to throw another blast of magic. Allanon knew that the person he was dealing with was powerful, and he hoped that his own magic was powerful enough to at least hold him back. Lifting his arm, Allanon summoned all the strength inside of him, channeling it into a deflection spell. The blue light shimmered to life in his hand. The colors of blue and red lit up the cave in a blinding flash of light.
Pyria could feel the nervous energy eating away at her as they made for the Druid cave. She was nervous about seeing Allanon again, but she was even more concerned that they wouldn’t make it in time. If she could discern which cave he’d gone to, someone else could as well. She rested her hand on her sword hilt. She didn’t usually carry a sword, but she’d been trained in the art of battle for her own defense.
“Do you know what we are facing, Princess?” General Edensong asked her. Her brother had insisted that they bring a small army if needed. So the general had rounded up a troop of his most skilled fighters.
“I think it might be the Warlock Lord.” Pyria spoke hesitantly. “I don’t know much, but from looking over historic texts the creatures you described have only appeared when he is around.”
“That name seems familiar.” Eventine frowned. “Didn’t this man destroy the Druids?”
Pyria nodded, attempting to hide her fear. If he’d destroyed the entire Druid order, what was protecting Allanon from sharing the same fate?
“We need to be careful.” General Edensong grew tenser than before. “We can’t risk engaging with someone that has magic that powerful.”
She knew that he was right. Their fighters were skilled, but in the face of magic they were nearly powerless. They reached the rim of the knoll and looked down at the sloping hillside that led into the dessert region. “There.” She pointed to a ridge below them that wound just up the next hill and disappeared into a dark cavern.
Eventine urged his horse forward, but the general reached out his hand and caught his king’s shoulder. “Wait. Look.”
Pyria followed the point of his finger and saw a dark hooded figure riding up to the cave. “We’re too late. He’s here!” She kicked her heels against her horse’s side, but two of the guards seized her reins. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t let you go to him.” The general told her, a voice that was far too calm. “It could mean your death.”
She looked to her brother in surprise. They couldn’t have ridden this far to stand by and do nothing.
“I’m sorry, Pyria.” Eventine sighed bitterly. “I won’t risk losing you.” He looked back toward the figure that had dismounted his horse and was entering the cave. “Allanon is my friend, but we can’t run in blind. Dying won’t help him.”
“Doing nothing won’t help him either.” Pyria didn’t mean for her voice to be so cutting, but she couldn’t help it. She would not leave Allanon to die. “I’m sorry too, brother.” She slammed her elbow into the first guards face and kicked the other guard’s horse in the side causing it to buck. She urged her own horse forward once they were forced to release her reins.
She could hear her brother calling out for her, but she didn’t listen to him. The only thing that mattered right now was helping a defenseless man. She would not stand idly by and let the last Druid be killed in is sleep, solely on the grounds that she might be hurt in the process. She reined the horse to halt next to the horse the rider rode in on.
Pyria looked over the other horse, noting the blood dripping from its nostrils and sweat soaked body. She dismounted quickly. “Anyone who treats an animal this way doesn’t deserve to draw breath.” She whispered to herself.
She turned to enter the cave when a powerful blast rocked the ground, a gale force wind exploding from the cave entrance. Stumbling back, she fell on her backside, her eyes opening wide in surprise. Had she been too late?
“Allanon!” Pyria called out at the top of her lungs, scrambling to her feet. He couldn’t be dead. She refused to believe it. She made her way into the cave and saw the cloaked man in front of her. She could barely make out Allanon, hunched over towards the back of the cave. She fumbled with the sword in her belt, barely managing to free it from its sheath. “Allanon!” She shouted to him again, and then the whole world exploded into a blinding light and the explosion that followed was deafening.
Eventine attempted to go after his sister, but General Edensong held fast to his reins. “Your Highness, you can’t.” His voice was stern. “We can’t afford to lose you.” He gestured to his guards. “They will bring her back. You need to think of your children and kingdom.”
He hated to admit that the general had a point, but he couldn’t stand the idea of his sister running into harm’s way. He watched the guards riding down the hill when the first explosion rocked the countryside. The horses by the entrance bolted and the guards were tossed from their mounts. It took Eventine everything he had to keep from getting tossed from his own horse.
“I’ve had enough of waiting.” Eventine fought his horse, trying to force it go forward, but it refused his commands. He looked up and saw his sister vanish into the cave. “Pyria!” He dismounted from his horse and took off on foot.
“Your Highness, no!” General Edensong gave chase behind him, but didn’t make an attempt to stop him, instead he fell in step beside him. “This is foolish!”
“This is about my sister!” He shouted, as they raced toward the entrance of the cave. The next blast knocked them both onto the ground in front of them. Eventine’s ears were ringing from the sound of the explosion just ahead of him. He shook his head trying to clear his hearing. If he was affected by the blast this much, he could only image what happened to his sister.
“Are you alright.” He felt the general’s hand on his shoulder and brushed him off. This wasn’t about him. He got back to his feet and stumbled up to the entrance of the cave. He was surprised it was still standing. He drew his sword and cautiously stepped inside.
The cave had suffered damages, the back of it had caved in and the stone table that stood in the center of the room was cracked in half. The strangest part was that there was no one inside the cave. He looked around in confusion, but it was as if no one had ever entered the cave. It was truly, completely empty.
“Your Grace.” General Edensong’s voice echoed in the stillness. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.” Eventine felt a sense of dread flood his soul. “They’re just……… gone.” He turned to his general with a blank expression. People didn’t just disappear into thin air.
Imagine being a druid that survived the third War of the Races and meet Allanon and completely crush on him
MASTERLIST
Requested: YES Hi, how’s it going? I saw that you wrote for The Shannara Chronnicles and I wanted to request an imagine with Allanon. So like the reader is a druid, that also somehow survived the previous war, she goes to the ‘temple’ at the same moment he goes back for the book and she eventually goes with them, helping them and crushing on Allanon. The ending I will leave in you hands
Tagging @weirdnewbie who requested amd @salvatorexwinchester who is just on my permanent tag list
You had been awakened by the sound of voices you did not recognize. You had made Druid’s Keep your home and so with the intruders, you drew your blade and slowly crept over to a wall that would keep you hidden. You peered around the wall and saw two men. One blonde and smaller than the other, who was quite handsome, that had dark hair and was wearing what you recognized as clothes of the Druids. But you didn’t trust him. Slowly, you were able to bypass the dark haired man and snuck up behind the blonde. You grabbed im by the back of his shirt and held your blade at his neck. You wrapped your left arm to pin his arm behind him. He made a small noise and that drew the attention of the other. He saw you and just stared for a moment.
“Who are you? How do you know about this place?” You ask.
“My name is Allanon, my friend that you are holding is Wil. I know this place because this is Druid’s Keep. I used to train here with my mentor Bremen. I participated in the War of the Races with Eventine. I am most likely the last druid that is alive, unless you are one as well?” He replied, and had a question of his own for you.
You let out a soft sigh and let Wil go. “Yes. I am a druid. And uh, sorry Wil. So Allanon, why did you come back after all this time?” You ask.
“We came here for the Codex of Paranor. Wil, is the last son of Shannara. He is going to learn how to master the elfstones and some magic.” Allanon replied, while turning his back and searching for where the codex might lay.
“Allanon. It’s just up ahead. Right in front of you, all the inscriptions on the wll? That’s where it lies.” You say. He goes over to the wall and examines it for a second before Wil starts talking about going to Storlock when Allanon told him that he was never going to Storlock, because the elfstones were guiding him to Allanon. Then there was a bunch of wind from all around and he used his magic to get the codex from behind the wall.
“Now, do you believe?” Allanon asks Wil.
“Allanon, let me heal you, I’m one of the few that know how to heal, and fight. Please. Let me help you.” You said, feeling and sensing the pain he was in. He only shrugged you off.
All of a sudden, after Allanon had opened the codex, he was talking and sort of freaking out and acting weird. You and Wil looked at each other before returning your gazes back to Allanon. Then your vision changed. You could see Allanon but not Wil. You turned to see the Dagda Mor. He hadn’t noticed your presence until he turned his gaze to you. Allanon looked over to what he had turned away to, to find you standing there. You only stared at the floor. He could not force you to do anything.
“I haven’t fought, nor killed anything yet, so you cannot control me in any way. Nor can your demons impersonate or harm me. I’m what some call, pure and untainted. That will never change.” You said quickly. You saw that Allanon had drew his blade and tried to attack the Dagda Mor, and then the both of you were out of the trance-like state he had put you both in.
Allanon had his hand in Wil’s face and then when he put his hand down, he said, “We need to get to Arborlon.” So, the three of you went to Arborlon, but you all were too late. All the Chosen, except for one, were dead.
TIME SKIP
Allanon had just been hurt, so you took him to the cave while tellng Wil and Amberle to go back to Arborlon. You hated seeing him pain so you took some of it away. But you couldn’t do much for his injuries. You could only hope that he would use one of his own incantations to activate the rock to heal him. You were leaning against the wall watching and waiting for any movement but you fell asleep.
Allanon was watching you for a little bit, allowing you a few more moments of rest before deciding to wake you, even though you were very cute when you were asleep.
“Y/N. You need to get up. We need to meet up with Wil and Amberle.” He says, trying to wake you. Slowly, you open your eyes and see that he’s up and his injuries are gone. You jump up and hug him.
“Oh, uh sorry. I am just so glad that you’re okay. I couldn’t do anything to help you and I felt so helpless and-” You say but are cut off by lips pressing against yours.
“For once, shut up.” Allanon said with a grin. You were staring at him in shock for a second before you went forward to crash your lips onto his again. You both pulled away breathless and just looked at each other.
“So, that uh, that just there, you like me too?” You ask, making sure that it wasn’t just a dream.
“Yes. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have done it silly. Now, Come on. We should go. We need to mke sure they are all right.” Allanon replied.
“Ok.” You say, extremely happy he likes you back.
Hope you all like it!! Please let me know what you think!
