Legends of Belariath
Gilgilgan
His family had been among the first to bring the stones of Ilnaraem into being...working with chisel and hammer, stone and wood to bring it to life during the Age of Peace. Upon each stone wrought by his family and set into place they prayed these stones would secure the lore and history of their people for all time, resisting all storms and the darkness of ignorance. Each generation brought more prayers and more work on the ever growing city until it was completed. For them it was a great honour to see all the work their family had helped complete stand before them in it's glory.
For their hard work and dedication, Aelina bestowed Gilgilgan's ancestors the task of being amongst the first Loremasters....casting aside their Steel and replacing it with Silver. All down the line of workers those who were deserving in faith and perseverance we appointed to their tasks. Eagerly his family set about their tasks, helping record all the knowledge and stories of the various guilds, the names of the workers, and those that had gone before. Enshrining their scrolls and tomes of this knowledge in the hallowed places of Ilnaraem in honour of their memory and dedication to their people.
They wasted no time in drafting up and guiding the construction of the other cities and guild houses, building to the standards expected of their faction. Many Generations later Gilgilgan was born to his parents, both loremasters in their own right in charge with recording the stories and legends of the other races and nations. No story too small or unworthy of notice for them, it all served a purpose in their eyes, to bring joy, to give warning, or just to entertain. It was with this specific task in mind that Gilgilgan was educated and trained at some of the finest schools in Ilnaraem, his teachers were amongst the wisest and most revered of Loremasters in the great city. His classrooms were the sacred halls of the Great Libraries and even their smaller counterparts. Secrets of the world recorded by his people were open to him.
At a young age however nearing the onset of puberty another world slowly opened to him. His parents, nor any of his family members previously had been gifted with sight into the Spirit World.
Amidst the ancient tomes and scrolls he began to hear whispers of the Spirit World, his ancestors spoke to him telling him tales that he had not yet been given access too...recanting them at dinner bell to his parents...their surprise quite obvious and apparent. At first his normally calm father was angered that he had somehow gained access to the sacred archives. His mother's cooler head persevered and she sought the aid of the Libraries Guards to discover if the archives had been disturbed. During this time poor Gilgilgan was afraid that he'd somehow done something wrong, in time though it was shown he'd not entered the archives and he was exonerated from his fathers anger.
Curiosity had now siezed his parents fully, something strange had happened to their little boy....little being a relative term, for Gilgilgan was already nearing eight feet in height and still growing. They took him before the revered Sages of Tir na m'Aeli to discern what had given this knowledge to their son. What followed was perhaps the single most enlightening thing to happen to Gil to date, and perhaps also the most frightening thing as well.
He was set into a solitary room, black save for a single lone candle burning a few feet in front of him. He was told to remain there and meditate on the Candle and it's flame...to let they who held the burning flame sacred know what thoughts came to be in his mind. Many hours past as he obediantly sat and meditated....murmuring prayers and mantra's he'd learned during his studies. Nothing. Silence pervaded the room to the point he could almost hear the crackling of the flame.
It wasn't until he gave up listening that he began to hear the whispers...voices on the edge of perception and reality...the spirits of his ancestors and the dead long before their time...whispering to him...appearing slowly to his eyes as if the room had suddenly become a portal to the Spirit World. In truth they were drawn to the young Minotaur, seeing some aspect of themselves ingrained into his being, something that had been long since lost to his family line. They spoke to him of great secrets, things that perhaps even the Sages of the city did not know...for hours he listened to their tales, one by one the spirits winking out of existance as he absorbed their stories, felt their pain, and happiness, anger and sorrow.
When he left that chamber he was a changed man. His eyes reflected a deeper understanding than he had gone in there with...the Sages knew, they had seen it before, and to his parents, they calmly informed them their family line now bore a Shaman, something that had escaped their family for hundreds of generations. It was a proud moment for his family, and they were sent on their way with the blessings of the Sages to school Gilgilgan at the libraries in the capitol city itself.
There he spent the rest of his formative years, devouring any knowledge of the spirit world and earth magics that his people had long since become adept with, his family doing all they could to support him during their own freetime, such a joy their son had brought to them, Gilgilgan approaching his studies with renewed vigor and zeal, even taking the time to get in some martial training during his off times, soon learning to fight for pleasure and fun.
In time however he decided to speak with the spirits across the world. His parents, while reluctant, had to let him go for they could do nothing to dissuade their son who'd become a strong young man and would hopefully one day take another step towards doing his ancestors a great honour and become an Earth Mage should the Earth heed his call. With the little coin his parents could gift him he left on the next ship, heading ever towards Nanthalion.
He enjoyed his travels, sharing stories and drink with sailors and caravan merchants. Trading blows and fighting tips with guards and mercenaries alike. All told of more knowledge and stories that he'd record in time with his own spirit, granting a world of knowledge to his people previously unknown...nothing closer to the Minotaurs heart than that goal. Knowledge, in his eyes, was to be shared with all, horded by none...it was peoples experiences and lives that created such knowledge, and all lives good and bad should be honoured in some fashion through either recounting of deeds or through remembering their spirit and all that it did.
Nanthalion was just the start of it all...