Methos of Ur

Scorpio

Email: Scorpio
Archive: Scorpio's Constellation, The Den, WWOMB and any list archives that might want it.
Fandom: Highlander: The Series
Pairing: none really - gen {slash and het implied only}
Rating: PG-13 {for adult topics}
Category: AU, drama/action, historical peoples
Warning: spots of violence and death (no major characters - all ofc's)
Notes: Nanna, Ninhursag, Ishtar and Anu were all gods that had been worshipped in ancient Mesopotamia. Mesanepada, Aanepadda, Ur-Nammu and Hammurabi were all rulers of Ur and Babylon respectively. Very little of this culture has survived to our time, so much of what is listed in this story is pure make-believe. However, most of it *is* inspired by real events. You'll note that I give no real definitive time line...that's because their isn't one. These people didn't have a very clear calendar and modern experts can't agree on what happened when anyway, so...
Disclaimer: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson, Kronos, Silas and Caspian all
belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. The historical folks belong to the world. I am making no money from this; it's a work of love, not profit.

Summary: A brief beer induced glimpse into Methos' past, before he rode as the Horseman of Death.

Part 1

Methos rolled his eyes in amused exasperation even as he took another swallow of the slowly warming beer in his hand. Joe Dawson's face was carefully neutral, but the man couldn't hide the burning curiosity in his eyes, which was understandable, the man *was* a historian after all. Duncan MacLeod on the other hand was merely frustrated.

Methos could empathize with the younger immortal. Duncan's life was filled with ever changing trends and times, endless new fads and tastes, ceaseless danger and chaos. Because of that, or maybe in spite of it, Duncan craved order. He thrived on being able to label and categorize everything. Usually in the simplest of terms and with the most convenient labels. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Old and new. Weak and strong.

It was a habit that Methos was slowly trying to break him of. The way he saw it, chaos itself wasn't a bad thing, it merely was. It was the *form* that the chaos took that had the possibility to be bad. The flip side of that was that it could also be a *good* thing. Duncan was just too young to see that. Yet.

Still, Duncan had it in his head to try and find a way to classify the enigma that was Methos. Noble undertaking, but not something that was easily done. Hell, Methos barely understood himself, so how could anyone else be expected to? He'd tried to tell the Highlander that, but the man was stubbornness personified. Duncan could comprehend and relate to the persona he knew as 'Adam Pierson'...and that was exactly what Adam had been created by Methos to do - give modern man a mask that they could understand and interact with. But Methos was far more than just the shell known as Adam Pierson. He had been many men, had worn many masks and answered to many names.

Well, Duncan asked for it...so Duncan would get it. Methos just hoped that the Highlander was able to handle the information that was about to be dumped on his head. He also hoped that their friendship would survive telling of his tale.

"Methos isn't the name I was born to...it's merely the first name that I remember."

He took another long swallow of beer as he watched Duncan's head snap up and around, intense brown eyes boring into his own. "What?...What do you mean, it's not your first name?" Joe merely raised an eyebrow and made a smooth gesture with his hand, encouraging Methos to continue.

"Methos is a Sumerian word...it was given to me by the people that lived in the town of Ur...several centuries before it grew to become what is now known as a 'city-state'. I took my first head there...that's the point where my memories start and where I earned the title Methos."

Duncan frowned and Methos could almost see the gears turning in the Highlander's head as he processed that thought. "I don't understand what you mean by *earned* the *title*. When you took that head, did other's see the Quickening or something?"

Now it was Methos' turn to frown. "Or something. It's...hazy. Most of what I do know is based on circumstantial evidence. I *do* remember the fight and the Quickening. It was against an immortal named Nanna. He was literally worshipped in Ur as a god. A moon god, I believe. I also know that afterwards I had to learn the language spoken there. Because of those two things, I don't think I was born there. I believe that I had been a nomad before that, wandering for I don't know how long before I came to the town of Ur."

Joe twirled his glass in a half-circle, staring into the amber liquid for a long moment. When he looked up, his expression was one of fascination. "Did they make you their god? I mean, after you defeated thier old one...Nanna."

***^***

His opponent was tall with dark hair that was styled into an elaborate weave of braids that hugged his skull and hung down his back. The other immortal also wore a long beard that was as meticulously styled as his hair. It was a sharp contrast to the clean shaven face and wild tangled mane that snarled and caught about his own head. Their clothing and weaponry were vastly different as well. While he wore ragged untanned hides of wild animals and carried a long bladed obsidian knife, the other immortal wore a coarsely woven fabric that was dyed bright red around his waist in a skirt. It was folded into elaborate pleats and billowed about his legs. His enemy's weapon was a heavy staff with a long stone spearhead fixed to the top and a heavy carved bone medallion hung about his neck.

He didn't want to fight the other immortal. He was hungry, tired and hot. All he wanted was some food for his belly and a dry spot to sleep in, but that was not to be. He couldn't understand the language of these southern people, but it became fairly obvious what was happening when armed warriors herded him into the main town center to face the other immortal. He tried to talk his way out of it, but they didn't understand his words any more than he could understand them.

The fight itself was brutal, violent and over quickly. Removing the man's head was another story. His obsidian blade was fairly sharp, but it wasn't a clean smooth edge so he found himself practically sawing it off of the other's neck. It was a gruesome task and he kept waiting for one of the village warrior's to come to the rescue of their leader, but they didn't interfere. They merely stood back and watched with solemn eyes.

Then the Quickening hit. He had known that it would, but he had never felt one before. The rush of agony mixed with ecstasy was overwhelming and he dropped to his knees, his arms raised up to the sky to receive the power that slammed down into him. Time seemed to stretch out endlessly into eternity until with a painful snap reality jarred back into place. When he could raise his eyes once more, he found to his surprise that all of the villagers had gathered around him and dropped down to their knees, their foreheads pressed into the dirt as they worshipped him.

***^*** 

Green-gold eyes burned with an odd intensity before softening into memory once more. "Yeah...they did. I became Methos." He sighed and shifted slightly, although he was sure that he wouldn't be able to get comfortable while digging up these memories. "At first I didn't understand what was happening. I was dazed and confused by the Quickening and the people around me were frightened and amazed as well. What's more, I didn't speak their language. I spoke an even older tongue."

There was silence for a moment, but then Duncan broke it. His voice was a whisper, but Methos could hear the undertones of desperate hope. "You said you *became* Methos...that it was an ancient Sumerian word, a title. What...what does it mean?"

When Methos looked up at Duncan, his expression was bleak because he knew that he was going to shatter that fragile hope. "Nanna was Sumerian for moon. Methos was their word for destroy. I became The Destroyer. Over the course of the next two thousand years...during the third Dynasty of Ur when Sumer and Akkad had melded; culturally, militarily and economically. By that time, the language had changed enough that the word Methos shifted from meaning to destroy to meaning death. I was the living embodiment of Death."

Duncan tensed and Methos could see the muscles along his jaw twitch and he clenched his teeth rhythmically. Finally, "Is that when you formed the Four Horsemen?"

Methos took another swallow of his now warm beer and shook his head. "No. That wouldn't come about for another two thousand years, Highlander." Methos turned a sardonic grin on his friend. "You can't even imagine one thousand years...let alone two. And at *that* time, in Ur, I *wasn't* considered a monster. I wasn't shunned as evil to be destroyed...I *was* the Destroyer. I was a GOD!"

Duncan tried to hide the automatic sneer that slid across his face but Methos saw it. And he could understand that as well. Duncan had been born and raised in a time where religion was more superstition than anything else. Worship based on ancient stories and myths, nothing real or concrete.

"I was taken in and I was worshiped. I was fed, clothed and educated in all things. I was first taught to speak the language. Then, one by one, I was given tutors in every craft and labor that was needed to make life for the people of Ur possible. I was made into the receptacle of all of their collective knowledge and wisdom." Methos snorted. "And the only thing that they asked in return was that I faced all of the dangers of life for them."

Joe looked interested and handed him another beer. "What do you mean, you faced all of the dangers for them?"

***^***

He was sitting in the warm sunshine carefully separating the barley grains from the shaft by hand when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears. Looking up, he turned his head to see a frightened child with panic in his dark eyes. "Great Methos, you must come quick. Raiders have been spotted."

*^*

Another time; he was carefully painting with rough glaze onto a sun-baked clay urn when a wailing woman carrying the body of a mutilated young girl came up to his home with a trail of villagers following. "Oh Terrible Methos. My beautiful daughter was ravaged by a savage beast. Avenge her death Holy Methos. Bring me back his furred hide."

*^*

And yet another time; he was preparing to head down to the banks of the Euphrates to help with the fishing when many cries rang out and the stench of acrid smoke hit his nose. A young warrior dashed into his hut, his eyes wide with fear. "Eternal Methos, the weaver's hut is burning and she is trapped inside. Please! Save her."

***^***  

Another graceless snort. "Wild animals sneaking out of the wilderness to drag away the young and the sick? Call Methos and send him to bring back it's hide. Raiders from a nearby village or town threatening to invade? Call Methos and have him lead the Temple Guards to turn them back. Grass hut burning down? Send Methos in to drag out those that are trapped. Local citizen stirring up trouble and strife? Call Methos and have him fight the ruffian in a trial by combat." Methos glared sullenly. "I was their *god*, their *Destroyer*. It was my duty to destroy all of their enemies...no matter what form that enemy took."

Not realizing that he was doing it or what he was giving away by it, Methos' eyes softened with memory and an odd longing for home. "Strangely enough, I was happy there. The people were graceful and loving, although by today's standards they would be seen as the worst kind of barbarians. When I first arrived and they were still teaching me their ways, I had knowledge that they didn't have and I taught them as well. Older knowledge...different techniques, and crafts. I had a completely different way of thinking." A soft smile filtered across his face. "I remember seeing how they used small sun baked clay bricks to build small things like platforms and altars and asking them why they couldn't use those same bricks to build larger things like homes and buildings. I remember asking if they could dry and store fruits and vegetables, why they couldn't do the same for meat?"

Joe blinked and his glass thumped on the table harder than he intended it to in his shock. "Are you trying to tell me that you invented the concept of brick homes and smoking meat into jerky?" Methos just smiled and took a swallow of his beer. Joe shook his head. "Geeze. That's...that's...I can't even tell you what that is."

Methos shrugged. "I didn't really know Nanna, but I have the feeling that he was pretty much happy with the status quo...so to speak. He didn't want nor like change, but I'm a different sort. Change never really bothered me and I still have an unhealthy curiosity, I suppose. Ur changed a lot during that time period. By the time I'd been there for almost five hundred years, Ur was beginning to shape itself into the legend that it is today."

"Every generation I was given a child to raise from the family of the current ensi...or chieftain. At that time, when I had been in Ur for roughly five hundred summers, I was raising a boy child by the name of Mesanepada. He was a bright and inquisitive child. Gentle and loving. When he was still so very young, a fierce band of well armed raiders came out of the northeast...from the same direction that I had originally come from. I'm not sure exactly where, but I *believe* it was somewhere near the Caspian Sea. Raiders were a fairly common occurrence, about once or twice every generation. This time it was different, however. This pack of raiders was led by an immortal and his warriors were armed with weapons forged of a copper and bronze alloy."

Methos snorted and took another swallow of beer before he leveled a sardonic gaze on Duncan. "My guardsmen were armed with weapons made of obsidian, stone and wood." At Duncan's odd look he rushed on, "Oh, don't get me wrong. We were smelting copper...just not for weapons. It's too soft for that. We *weren't*, however, smelting bronze...let alone making alloys. Our weapons were heavy and strong...but brittle and easily chipped."

Methos sighed and gazed with shaded eyes at his bottle of beer. "The battle was like any other battle I suppose. Bloody, messy and filled with the cries of the dying. It was also a huge waste of time, pain and life. In the end it came down to a fight between myself and the other immortal, just as I knew it would. I took off his head with the same obsidian blade that I had taken Nanna's head with. The only real difference was that this Quickening was stronger and it was the first time I had suffered through one with a metal blade still sticking through my half-healed body."

Duncan grunted in sympathy. "That's never enjoyable. For some reason it seems to make the Quickening twice as intense and ten times more painful." Methos could only nod his head in agreement to that, but then he shrugged and grinned.

***^***

The fight was fairly evenly matched. Both were strong, well trained and tired from earlier battle. In the end, they stabbed each other simultaneously. The only difference being that Methos was stabbed in the stomach while he had managed to skewer his opponent through the heart. Yanking his ancient obsidian blade out of the immortal's chest, he swung and hit his neck. Strength fading fast, it took four separate hacking blows before the man's head separated from his neck and toppled to the ground. Then the lightening hit.

Pain rushed through his body like never before as lightening slammed into him over and over again. A burning hot wind whipped about the battlefield and thunder shook the suddenly dark sky. Fighting ceased as warrior's either fled in terror or dropped to their knees in abject worship. And in the middle of it all, Methos screamed his agony to the uncaring and violent sky.

***^***

"Made for one hell of a lightshow, I can tell you that much. Impressed the other immortal's warriors so much that half of them turned tail and ran away and the other half stood around gape jawed and pissed their pants."

Duncan chuckled a bit at that and Joe muttered an amused, "I bet."

Methos' eyes softened again in that odd way that was half memory and half longing. "Of course, my people just fell on their faces in worship of such a blatant display of my divinity, but that's only to be expected. That was also a major turning point for Mesanepada. He became obsessed with the whole concept of what he called the 'great warring gods' and he devoted his entire life to see that vast improvements were made in Ur for me. He was determined that I would come out the winner of every such battle. Of course, now we know that we're," Methos gestured between himself and Duncan, "not really gods, but immortals. At the time though, that's what they...and I, thought that we were."

Another sip of beer followed by a soft smile. "That boy was a brilliant planner and an optimist of the highest caliber. I've never had anyone who was so devoted to me, who believed in me so purely before or since." Methos frowned suddenly and muttered, "Well,...maybe one other," before he shook his head and continued his story. "He was one of the few members of his family that survived the battle since he had been deemed too young to participate beyond being there to carry weapons and to help with the wounded afterwards. So, in the aftermath, he took over the duties of ensi."

"Mesanepada ordered a huge brick Temple built to replace the smaller one that I lived in. This one, a forerunner to the ziggurats, was big enough to house not only myself and my personal servants, but also twice as many guards. It included a large training area as well as an altar of worship. He encouraged families to do as his had traditionally done, to dedicate one of their children to the temple. Only instead of those babies being raised to be my...companion, they would be raised to become my own personal army."

"He also encouraged the populace to begin to travel to outlying villages and lands to learn their crafts and secrets. Mesanepada was obsessed with discovering the secret to smelt bronze. He had watched too many of our warriors fall in battle due to weapons that chipped, or worse: shattered, to do anything less."

***^***

The temple was going to be huge, Methos could see that already. The foundation was set and the plans were drawn up. It was a massive effort and it involved almost all of the villagers. Personally, he didn't think he needed anything that grand or fancy, but his beloved was determined and Methos would do just about anything to make Mesanepada happy.

So, the village women and children spent their nights shoving wet clay into wooden brick molds and the village men spent their days laying those sun baked bricks to build his new temple. In return he worked himself to exhaustion trying to take up the slack in the fields and with the flocks and herds. He also hunted for fresh meat and fished in the river.

It was hard and tiring, but Mesanepada was happy, the city was bursting with new life and purpose and Methos had never been happier. It didn't last, though. It never does.

***^***

An odd flicker of sadness chased quickly by amusement passed over Methos face. "Things were changing quickly and the people were rallying around my banner as they always had, but the balance of power was uneven and it was very worrying to many. Mesanepada's family had been nearly decimated in the battle with the immortal's army of raiders to the point where he had to take up the duties of ensi, yet he was my chosen, raised from birth to be *mine*. As things stood, he would be the last of his line and that would leave the people without an ensi."

"I remember that the people were so afraid of my jealousy and of incurring my anger, but they had to realize...these were *my* people too. I cared about them deeply. No, I wasn't really good at sharing, at least...not then. However, I had no real choice. I wanted Mesanepada's line to continue as much as the next man, so I married him to his younger sister and then swore to protect the bloodline by moving her into my own personal living space instead of moving Mesanepada out."

A flicker of distaste moved across Duncan's face, but Methos ignored it and him by turning to face Joe, a smile of amusement on his face. "Ironically enough, three seasons later, when we had just realized that Mesanepada's sister had become pregnant with his first child, a pre-immortal infant was brought before me to be a temple raised guardsman." As he knew it would, Joe's face lit up with glee.

"No way! What did you do? Did you even realize what the kid was? How did the people react?"

Methos chuckled and took another swallow of beer. "Yes, I knew what she was. She was a foundling, and at that time Mesanepada was insisting that all foundlings and any...unwanted children be brought to my temple to be raised. I named her Ninhursag and announced to all that she was to become a goddess. I proclaimed that just as it was my duty to protect all of Ur, she would become the protector of the ruling family to prevent the near disaster that had almost just took place. I raised her alongside of Mesanepada's son, Aanepadda. When he became ensi he eventually raised a smaller temple to her." Methos' eyes softened and a gentle smile graced his lips. "She was my first student, my daughter. I loved her very much."

Suddenly, Methos' eyes cleared and he raised his head, pride shimmering from every pore. "They recently excavated her temple. It still stands to this day, a monument to her and the beauty that she brought to everyone's life."

Duncan grinned. "So...they had a Destroyer and a Protector? Two immortals to guard one city, one people?"

Methos grinned back. "Yeah. They did." Then Methos' grin faded into a frown even as his sparkling eyes clouded over with remembered pain. "It didn't work, though. Good intentions not withstanding, we didn't know *anything* about human genetics back then. Ninhursag took over the line of the ruling family and simply followed the example that I myself had set. She routinely married brothers to sisters for several generations. It ensured a continuous and pure bloodline, yes, but it also bred a lot of weaknesses and defects. It finally got so bad that it took all of her skill and all of my skill to nurse Kiremminos through an entire pregnancy from conception to birth. She had already miscarried four times."

"When Kiremminos' daughter was of marriageable age, Ninhursag and I held a grand competition with all of the warriors in my temple to see who could win the hand of the girl-child who was the ensi. It was much like a medieval tournament only without the jousting. It was a huge event that lasted for many days and culminated with the wedding and a citywide feast."

***^***

Methos lounged back on his soft cushions with a soft smile on his face as Ninhursag passed his a mug of chilled fruit juice. Her long dark hair was woven into an elaborate knot at the base of her skull and several strings of polished copper beads hung around her neck to sway between her bare breasts. And like himself and every one of the mortals gathered around the platform they occupied, she was wearing her finest and most elaborate skirt wrapped about her wide flaring hips.

A soft squeak of excitement pulled their attentions away from each other and back to the games they were holding. The young girl-child that was the ensi sat upon her own pile of cushions, her slim body stiff with tension as she watched with rapt eyes. Below, a long line of young men stood, each with a long spear in his hands. At the far end of the city square, a bound pile of grain stood as a target.

A bank of stands were set up along the far side of the square where the wealthy citizens of Ur could sit in the shade and watch the festivities and show off their best jewelry and finest linen skirts. Jugglers and acrobats plied their trade at the edge of the crowd hoping to entertain and young children ran wild through the milling people. Merchants set up stands and hawked their wares, their voices rising above the din as they tried to tempt people to purchase fresh fruits and drinks. The atmosphere was one of a festival and everyone was of good cheer.

Finally, one of the warriors that Methos knew to be extremely talented, if not quite bright, stepped forward. His strong and toned body glistened in the sun from his sweat and his dark hair was bound in simple braids, his beard just beginning. His form, however, was flawless and when he threw his spear it flew far and true, striking the target in dead center. The crowd roared it's appreciation.

Methos smiled.

***^***

Methos took another long swallow of beer and rolled his eyes at his own memories. "Thus was the beginning of the second Dynasty of Ur. Things were pretty quiet during this dynasty. Raiders were less frequent since the might of Ur was well renown and the temple guards were of a sufficient size and skill that there was less danger from the wild beasts that hunted on the edge of the fields. This line of ensi were healthy, but not very bright or ambitious."

"While we were living in a fair approximation of prosperity, our neighbors to the north were going through their own form of growing pains. The word filtering down to us was that the various towns and villages of Akkad were battling each other. I suppose that I should have been paying a bit more attention, but things were peaceful and I was devoting myself to study and learning. I had a proto-library at this point in time and I spent most of the hours of the day filling it with clay tablets filled with cruciform writing, trying to capture the history of Ur down for future generations. By the time I bothered to stick my nose outside my temple, the Akkadians had managed to form themselves an empire and they wanted to form an...alliance with the empire of Sumer."

A wry grin stole across Methos' face as he accepted another beer from Joe. Duncan, caught up in the story like a child trying to hold back the time for sleep was impatient. "Well? What happened then?" Methos' grin grew wider.

"An exchange of daughters, of course. We sent the youngest daughter of the ensi to Akkad. Ninhursag escorted her personally in a jeweled and linen draped liter that was borne on the backs of her own personal slaves. I sent along an honor guard of my fiercest warriors to protect them on their travels. All of Ur celebrated the elevation of that girl-child from Third Daughter to Queen of Sargon. In return, one of Sargon's younger sisters was sent to us in Ur."

Methos sent an odd look to Duncan. "You can probably relate to this quite well having lived through something like it, but Sumeria began to change. There were several city-states that had formed alliances over the centuries that were all considered to be Sumerian. Ur, of course was the main city, but there was also Warka, Eridu and then later on there came Babylon."

Joe interrupted. "Babylon, old man? Come on, that was it's own empire."

Methos nodded in agreement. "Yes, they were...or would be in about...uh...four, maybe five hundred years. At the time, though, Babylon was a Sumerian city and was a nominal subject of Ur...and that meant *me*."

Duncan frowned. "Why would I be able to relate to this part of the story?" Methos shrugged.

"Because you lived through something like it in Scotland. When you were a lad, the Highlands had their own culture. It was pure and untainted. Over the years that became less and less so. Ideas and religion and technology and all sorts of things drifted in little by little. Some of it was adopted readily and some of it was forced. But it *did* happen. And that's what happened with both Akkad and Sumer. Even the language changed. The Semitic language of the Akkad's and the language of Sumeria merged to create a third *new* language. Even the cruciform writing changed once the Akkadian's got a hold of it. We had horses and camels that we used for pack animals. The Akkadian's used them for mounting warriors. We adopted that idea. They absorbed our art and textile skills."

Methos took another long swallow of beer. "I was nearing my second millennia in the city of Ur when Ur-Nammu became ensi. He was a near perfect melding of Sumerian stock and Akkadian stock due to several generations of exchanging 'princesses' with the emperors of Akkad. By this time I was a bit alarmed by the submersion of Sumerian culture into the Akkadian belief system. The people of Ur no longer saw me as a god in my own right, but as a blessed child of Ishtar...one of the Akkadian goddesses. While I didn't mind being the son of a goddess, I was a bit worried about the way that things were changing, so I took a keen interest and a firm hand in the raising of Ur-Nammu." A smug smile erupted across the ancient one's face. "That boy did me proud. By the time he handed over the rulership to his son, Ur was in complete control of the outlet into what's now the Persian Sea and Ur was the wealthiest and strongest city in the Twin Empires."

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