Images from pinterest
Last 2 are mine
****
The situation had progressed to this point, and no amount of internal shock on Rowe's part could alter the bizarre reality he now faced.
Though he still couldn't quite trace the logical thread that had led to him becoming a stand-in for a sacred prostitute in a Mesopotamian origin myth, the fact remained: the 'harlot' of the epic had failed to appear.
In her stead, it was Rowe's presence, his connection as the 'Key,' and even his subconscious mental image that had guided Enkidu's final, beautifully feminine form.
A chilling thought occurred to him. If an epic recording the deeds of Gilgamesh were to be composed in this timeline, future scholars might one day read of a 'Sacred Man' who ventured into the forest and catalyzed the birth of the wild man, Enkidu.
His name would be forever intertwined with this legend. He looked at the being before him, whose delicate features and soft curves far outweighed any masculine traits, and a strange, fleeting thought crossed his mind… perhaps this historical distortion wasn't entirely bad?
No! What in the world am I thinking?
He quickly quashed the bizarre notion. This was not the time for such reflections.
Across from him, Enkidu continued its soft, inquisitive babbling. The lush canopy above shifted as the sun began its descent, the intense afternoon light softening into a warm, orange-red glow that draped over Enkidu's slender figure like a mantle of crimson feathers.
After a moment's contemplation, Rowe decided to act. He reached out, and a chain descended from a shimmering golden ripple of the Gate of Babylon. Grabbing it, he swung gently forward, closing the distance between himself and the newly formed being until he stood directly before it.
Slowly, he untied and removed his own simple linen priest's robe, revealing the dark, practical garments he wore beneath. He then carefully draped the oversized robe over Enkidu's shoulders.
"Ya ya ya—!?" A clear, surprised sound escaped Enkidu's crimson lips. It shifted slightly, the fabric engulfing it, before it managed to poke its head out from the collar, its vibrant green hair spilling over the coarse cloth.
"Wear it properly," Rowe said, his voice firm yet not unkind. He gestured to the robe, which was clearly too large for Enkidu's more petite frame, which only reached his shoulders. It was a distinctly girlish physique, he noted once again, a direct consequence of his own subconscious. A strange sense of responsibility settled over him.
Upon hearing his instruction, and sensing no malice or rejection in his tone, Enkidu ceased its struggles. The nascent divine weapon, so attuned to its 'key,' felt a wave of reassurance. It was like a child soothed by a parent's voice.
Seeing its compliance, Rowe pressed his advantage.
"They all obey your commands, don't they?" he asked, gesturing to the multitude of demonic beasts still prostrating themselves around the clearing.
Enkidu tilted its head, processing the question, then opened its mouth slightly and let out a soft, melodic, singing-like sound. It was a clear affirmation.
A spark of hope ignited in Rowe's chest. "Then… can you order them to kill me?" he asked, his tone almost hopeful.
"Ya ya ya!" Enkidu immediately shook its head, its emerald hair whipping from side to side like a rattle drum, its expression one of firm refusal.
As expected. That path was closed. Rowe wasn't particularly discouraged; he had grown accustomed to his failed attempts at martyrdom by now. He considered himself a patient man.
"Then order them to leave," he said, his voice softer now.
He reached out and gently stroked Enkidu's head, feeling the silken texture of its hair beneath his palm. "And for the next few days… I will take care of you."
His new plan was taking shape. He would follow the rough outline of the legend. He would spend seven days with Enkidu in this forest. His goal was not, of course, to engage in the 'indescribable things' of the original myth, but to act as a mentor. He would teach it human knowledge, language, and even combat skills and awareness.
His reasoning was sound. If Rowe's memory of the epic served him correctly, the timeline was now converging.
Soon, very soon, Gilgamesh would feel a disturbance in the very fabric of the world—the emergence of his celestial counterpart, the Chains of Heaven.
Drawn by this profound resonance, the King would come to this very forest.
The ensuing battle between the Wedge of Heaven and the Chains of Heaven was destined to be a cataclysmic event, a clash that would reshape the very land.
At that pivotal moment, Rowe's role would be perfectly defined.
As Gilgamesh's acknowledged, if insolent, direct vassal, and as the one who had formed a deep bond with Enkidu, it would be not only reasonable but expected for him to attempt to intervene, to throw himself between the two titans in a desperate bid to stop their world-shattering conflict.
And given the vast chasm in raw power between himself and the combatants—a demi-god king and a divine weapon—it would be even more reasonable for him to be utterly annihilated by the mere periphery of their clash.
To die as a heroic, if tragically overmatched, peacemaker in a battle of legends was a poetic and fitting end. And since his 'death' was merely a prelude to his ascension to the Throne of Heroes, there were no truly negative repercussions. The strategy was flawless, a perfect win-win scenario.
A genuine, almost serene smile graced Rowe's lips as he finalized this plan. The sensation of Enkidu's impossibly smooth hair beneath his palm was strangely grounding. For its part, Enkidu leaned into the touch, a look of profound comfort and trust settling on its exquisitely delicate features.
"From now on," Rowe declared, his voice imbued with a ceremonial weight, "your name will be… Enkidu!"
He paused, the formality giving way to a more affectionate tone. "How about I call you En-chan for short?"
"En… ki… du…" Enkidu opened its mouth, the syllables forming with a soft, unpracticed cadence. Though the pronunciation was slightly unclear, the three syllables were articulated accurately. It was, after all, a weapon of the gods. Its capacity for learning and adaptation was immense; given the proper stimuli, its growth would be exponentially rapid.
"Let's go!" Rowe withdrew his hand and straightened up, his mind set on the path ahead.
"Hmm…" Enkidu's emerald eyes followed Rowe's retreating hand, a flicker of reluctance passing through them, but it did not protest. It simply tugged at the oversized robe, quickly adapting to the feel of the fabric against its skin.
Then, with a mere thought from the nascent being, the forest obeyed. Under the gaze of those pure green eyes, the multitude of demonic beasts that had been prostrating themselves rose as one and dispersed silently into the deep woods.
In a matter of moments, the clearing and its surroundings were empty, leaving only the ancient, towering trees and their shifting shadows, the tender leaves shimmering like emeralds in the light of the distant, setting sun.
"From now on," Rowe began, speaking as much to himself as to his companion, "I will teach you the common sense of humans. The essential habits for survival, for life."
He grabbed the chain from the Gate of Babylon and swung down from the tree branch, landing softly on the forest floor.
"And of course," he added, his voice taking on a sharper edge, "I will also teach you how to fight."
He spoke without concern for whether Enkidu fully comprehended the words. He knew that the divine clay would record every sound, every inflection with perfect fidelity. Understanding would come in time, piece by piece. The process of learning, of becoming, had begun.
Enkidu followed closely behind, its bare feet making no sound on the soft earth. It listened to Rowe's voice with a focused, serious expression on its delicate face. The newborn possessed an innate curiosity about the world, but more than that, it was drawn to Rowe—to the sound of his voice, the unique aura that marked him as its 'key,' and the simple, profound comfort of following in his footsteps. The gentle forest breeze stirred Enkidu's thick, soft hair. Its eyes, peering through the swaying green strands, remained fixed on the figure ahead, as if in that form, it could already see the echoes of a future yet to unfold.
'The wise man scooped from the spring of wisdom,
And taught the savage one all knowledge.
As primordial chaos was severed at creation's dawn,
So was light brought into the darkness.
In those seven days, the King's friend was enlightened,
A meeting of kindred spirits, a beautiful culmination.'
—An alternate verse from a future Epic of Gilgamesh**
...
"King."
In the great hall of Uruk's palace, Siduri's meticulous recitation of various state reports was interrupted by a sudden, sharp tension in the air. The young and dutiful adjutant looked up at the King, who had abruptly straightened from his languid repose upon the throne.
"Did you… sense something?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
She observed the subtle change in Gilgamesh's posture and the way the serpent-like pupils within his crimson eyes constricted. Her heart grew solemn, recognizing the signs of his divine perception engaging.
"Ah…" Gilgamesh let out a low sound, a predatory grin slowly spreading across his face.
"This King 'sees' a most interesting mongrel. One who dares to trespass upon this King's territory and take root there, all without This King's express permission!"
He bared his teeth, though the emotion in his eyes seemed less pure anger and more a volatile mixture of intrigue and possessive ire.
"That fellow… he hasn't returned. Has he?" Gilgamesh's gaze shifted to Siduri, though it was clear his attention was still half-focused on the distant sensation.
"Yes, my King," Siduri replied, lowering her eyes slightly as if to conceal her own concern. Her hand, holding a clay tablet, trembled almost imperceptibly—from fatigue, from worry, she did not say.
"The unrest in the Demonic Beast Forest was completely quelled seven days ago, as reported. But since that day, Assistant Rowe has not returned to the city."
"Hmph! He is, after all, a mongrel this King has acknowledged," Gilgamesh stated, rising to his feet in a single, fluid motion that radiated power.
"Without this King's permission… no one, be they beast, man, or god-sent creature, is allowed to lay claim to what is mine! To do so is to invite the judgment of the revered King!"
He looked down at Siduri, his expression one of absolute finality. "The kingdom is in your hands. This King is going to personally meet this… hound that the heavens have seen fit to send!"