Of Dark Elves, Wonder, and Danger
It all began a long, long time ago.
How long ago, no one knows. Probably the first humans, daring to duck into caves for shelter, had legends of dark-skinned, evil beings dwelling in the darkness at the back of the cave ⦠and below, under the earth.
Long before the Mines of Moria, long before Menzoberranzanâwell, let's dispense with a lot of the “long agos” and stop at Snorri Sturluson (1178â1241), an Icelandic historian who wrote:
There are many magnificent dwellings. One is there called Alfheim. There dwell the folk that are called light-elves; but the dark-elves dwell down in the earth, and they are unlike the light-elves in appearance, but much more so in deeds. The light-elves are fairer than the sun to look upon, but the dark-elves are blacker than pitch.
Snorri called those “blacker than pitch” beings
svartálfar
(“black elves”) and
dökkálfar
(“dark elves”), as he sorted through and summarized Norse mythology. They may or may not be the same beings as the
duergar
(dwarves), but they are certainly dark-skinned creatures who dwell under the earth, and are regarded by humans as evil (whereas the light-elves may be proud, magically powerful, and capricious, but are fair and essentially good).
Both light and dark elves appear in hundreds of fantasy stories; to
pluck up just one example: the “svarts” of Alan Garner's classic children's fantasies
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen
(1960) and
The Moon of Gomrath
(1963).
In part this modern popularity of “light” and “dark” elves in literature is due to the elves of J.R.R. Tolkien's epic, phenomenally influential
The Lord of the Rings,
but in part it's also due to the same root tradition Tolkien borrowed from: the elves (or faeries) of European folklore, who lived under hills or burial mounds (or within trees, springs, or wells). Many English fantasy writers, from Kipling (
Puck of Pook's Hill
and
Rewards and Fairies
) to Enid Blyton (too many titles to list), drew on this tradition. Creatures who grant wishes, or dance with humans as hundreds of years pass in a single night, or play tricks, or are proud and terrible in their dealings with humansâthese populate the fairy tales all fantasy writers grow up with, and become inspired by.
As Brian M. Thomsen puts it in his book
The Awful Truths
(Collins, 2006): “J.R.R. Tolkien did not invent Middle-Earth,” which “predates Tolkien by over a thousand years.” Skipping over the scholarship, Thomsen summarizes matters thus:
Middle-Earth is another name for Midgard which is the domain where men dwell in ancient Norse mythology which was the source for the original Beowulf tale. It is located somewhere between the realm of the gods and the realm of the underworld (more simply in Judeo-Christian terms heaven and hell). Midgard/Middle-Earth is also the setting for Beowulf (mentioned specifically in the text no less than six times), a manuscript that Tolkien spent many hours studying, and as it turns out being inspired by.
Indeed, Thomsen's anthology
The Further Tales of Beowulf, Champion of Middle Earth
(Carroll & Graf, 2006) includes the stirring tale “Beowulf and the City of the Dark Elves” by noted fantasy writer Jeff Grubb. In this story, Beowulf travels to a far place, discovers that the local human trade with the elves who dwell under the mountains there has ceased because those elves have revealed their grim preferred diet: the meat of human children. As might be expected, a heroic adventure ensues.
Interestingly, Tolkien has his dark elves, too, although the main epic bypasses them, and most readers know nothing about them: the
Morquendi (the Elves of Darkness) are elves who chose not to journey over the sea to Valinor.
In his book
The Real Middle Earth: Magic and Mystery in the Dark Ages
(Sidgwick & Jackson, 2002), Brian Bates reminds us that when Celtic tales mention the
sidh-folk,
this means “creatures of the burial mounds,” and there is a long tradition of humans treating with elves and giving them gifts or feasting in their honor, to stay on their good side. Gaelic calls these elves
daoi-sith
(“dark elves”) and
du-sith
(“black elves”).
Celtic traditions include many tales of humans who danced with elves for a night, only to discover that years upon years had passed and all the folk they knew were long dead; humans tricked by elves or who managed to trick elves; and tragic romances and fatal bargains between humans and elves. The fey faeries are never lurking far beyond the firelight of human encampments, as they dance in their faery rings and glide or fly through their forests.
If
The Lord of the Rings
was the first great stir in modern fantasy, founding today's commercial fantasy genre and spawning countless imitators, the second great stir was Dungeons & Dragons
®
, the fantasy roleplaying game released in the 1970s. It, too, spawned many imitators and made new fantasy fans by the thousands, drawing imaginative people into participating in new fantasy storytelling rather than just reading fantasy stories.
Gary Gygax, cocreator of the game (joined in the final adventure by cowriter David C. Sutherland III), introduced dark elves to D&D
®
gamers as the “drow,” in a classic series of “adventure modules” that began with an above-ground trilogy wherein game players' characters battled different sorts of giants in high, cold mountains. A second trilogy took the characters through a rift down into the depths of the earth, into a vast subterranean realm known as “the Underdark,” where the action reached a city of the dark elves, in
The Vault of the Drow.
The D&D
®
dark elves were obsidian-skinned and pointy-eared; sophisticated and cruel slavers and merciless slayers who worshipped a spider goddess, Lolth (or “Lloth”). In
Queen of the Demonweb Pits,
the adventure saga took surviving adventurers onto another plane of existence, the abode of that fell goddess. Gygax's drow were warring families or merchant clans, akin to the Borgias and their rivals in historical Venice under the Doge. In these adventures, the matriarchal clergy of the spider goddess were ruthlessly destroying priests of an unnamed “Elder
Elemental God” that was obviously losing the battle for religious supremacy in this drow city.
It was a setting that fascinated players, myself among them. In 1986, the drow adventures were revised and collected into
Queen of the Spiders,
which a 2004
DUNGEON
®
magazine poll voted
the
“greatest D&D
®
adventure of all time.”
Mr. Gygax almost certainly took the name “drow” (rhymes with “cow” and not “show”) from the evil drow (dark elves) of the Shetland Isles (related to the “trow” of the Orkney Islands; both are likely local versions of the Norse
dökkálfar
). The drow he presented to gamers back in 1978, in the
Descent Into the Depths of the Earth
adventure (white-haired and black-skinned, elegant and agile and cruel, with male fighters and wizards ruled by female priestesses), are essentially the drow of fantasy fiction today. After the D&D
®
game itself, they are arguably Gary Gygax's greatest, most influential fantasy creation.
A year after
Queen of the Spiders
appeared, gamers saw the first Realmslore outside the pages of
DRAGON
®
magazine. The Forgotten Realms
®
, the fantasy world I'd created as a child, had been adopted as the setting for the D&D
®
game. One of the many modifications of my original made in the published Realms was sweeping aside my nebulous subterranean kingdoms, the “Realms Below,” to bolt on the Underdark of D&D
®
(drow and all).
A flood of Realms novels from many pens appeared. Among them was
The Crystal Shard
by R. A. Salvatore, featuring a band of heroes that included an outcast drow, Drizzt Do'Urden. “The” dark elf was then just one adventurer among equals, but caught the imagination of readers, soaring swiftly to prominence as a major character in fantasy fiction.
Salvatore's second trilogy began with a book now rightly regarded as a classic:
Homeland,
the story of Drizzt's coming of age in the drow city of Menzoberranzan. Readers were thrust into the heart of life and politics in a city ruled by the cruel faith of Lolth, where betrayals among family were as icily keen as the attacks of foes, females ordered males about, and those females (from the matrons who rule each House downward) engaged in an endless struggle for supremacy. This was “real life” for drow, brought vividly alive on the printed page; I loved it, and eagerly accepted a role in detailing Menzoberranzan in D&D
®
terms, detailing its spells, food, customs, and minutae in a boxed game set.
Drizzt's saga has continued for book after book, many of them departing the Underdark for surface adventures, and other writers have
been welcomed aboard to tell stories of the drow, from Elaine Cunningham's highly regarded Liriel Baenre series to the recent multiauthor
War of the Spider Queen
saga.
I share the fascination many readers obviously have for the drow of the spider goddess, and yet â¦
I have always wanted to explore
my
dark elves, my conception of a nearly-but-not-quite-human subterranean obsidian-skinned race. The elves I imagined before D&D was created and before Gary Gygax gave us his superbly realized drow culture.
Drawing on the Moondragon character of Marvel Comics
®
and Eartha Kitt femme fatales, on dozens of pulp tales of sensuous deadly vampires and ghosts, and on fantastic art from Erté to Virgil Finlay, I had already envisaged a long-fingered, deft, elegant, sophisticated (even jaded) race of tall, slender, ruthless elves. A ghost story told to me by my grandfather gave me jet-black skinâand fingernailsâto go with those long, reaching fingers.
Yet my dark elves weren't called “drow,” and they dwelt in a world that held no trace of a spider goddess. I wanted to explore dark elves without Lolth and her faith determining every aspect of dark elven existence, where religious obedience took a backseat to personal moral choices and necessity and state law. I had a writer's problem with the vicious society of the D&D
®
drow: Those ruthless strivings and sharply defined roles made for plenty of gaming adventure opportunities and a race of readily recognizable villains, but restricted opportunities for dark elves to be individualistic, to argue (without someone dying in a hurry!), to pursue different goals and philosophies, and to display hobbies and gentleness and playfulness (as something more than a glimpse or a perceived and ridiculed weakness).
And of course, I wanted to tell stories of human dealings with such elves.
So in this book, at last, you'll meet
my
dark elves, in my Underworld. I've stepped back to Norse mythology, and entered Niflheim.
Why Niflheim, a world of mist, chill, and ice (the realm of the frost giants in many Scandinavian tales) when in Norse tradition the dark elves dwelt in Svartalfaheim?
Well, Norse mythology tells us that there are nine (linked, coexisting) worlds. There's an upper level of three worlds: Asgard (the land of the gods or Aesir), Alfheim (abode of the elves), and Vanaheim (home of the Vanir); a middle level of Midgard (the “Middle-Earth” of humans),
Jotunheim (land of the giants), Svartalfaheim (where the dark elves dwell), and Nithavellir (home of the dwarves); and a lower level of Muspelheim (a realm of fire) and Niflheim (the home of the dead, the dark, cold and misty lowest region of the underworld). The World Tree, Yggdrasil, holds all of them togetherâalthough Niflheim is home to the adder Nidhogge (darkness) who gnaws ever at the roots of Yggdrasil.
In the beginning, there were only fire (Muspelheim) and ice (Niflheim), with a great chasm, Ginnungagap, between. Where the heat met the frost, the frost melted and formed “eitr,” a substance that kindled into life and became the giant Ymir, the father of all Frost giants. In the Norse story of creation, Odin killed Ymir, whose outpouring blood killed all but one of the frost giants, and whose body Odin shaped into Midgard.
I'm skipping quite a lot here, but Niflheim remains dark, cold, and misty, and ends up depopulated of frost giants. It's the home of the dead, and is often seen as an endless series of caverns. (It also acquired the name Hel, which in early Germanic mythology became the name of the goddess who ruled the dead in Hel/Niflheim.)
I don't want to offend anyone by cleaving closely to mythic traditions and
then
twisting or gainsaying or embroidering them, so that some will be angered because I “got it wrong.”
Rather, I want to explore a fictional Niflheim of darkness and the dead (ghosts and undead). I chose Niflheim rather than Svartalfaheim for my dark elves because of the cold and mist. I have plans for that cold and mist. Dark plans.
What dark plans? Well, as many tale-tellers say across dying fires: In the fullness of time more will be revealed.