Inspiration Friday – The making of myths for other Lovers of Myths

The poem Mythopoeia by JRRTolkien, can be found in the new edition of Treeand Leaf. The following passage of the poem can also be found in Tolkien’s famous essay “On Fairy-Stories”. 

The heart of man is not compound of lies,

but draws some wisdom from the only Wise,

and still recalls him. Though now long estranged,

man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.

Dis-graced he may be, yet is not dethroned,

and keeps the rags of lordship once he owned,

his world-dominion by creative act:

not his to worship the great Artefact,

man, sub-creator, the refracted light

through whom is splintered from a single White

to many hues, and endlessly combined

in living shapes that move from mind to mind.

Through all the crannies of the world we filled

with elves and goblins, though we dared to build

gods and their houses out of dark and light,

and sow the seed of dragons, ‘twas our right

(used or misused). The right has not decayed.

We  make still by the law in which we’re made.

-          JRR Tolkien, Mythopoeia, p87, Harper Collins Publishers, 2001.

I adore this passage and think it should be added to the quotes on the wall by my desk. Tolkien's work, for me, has that magical spark (for want of a better word) that makes my mind and heart come alive. I hope you have enjoyed this past month of Inspirational Tolkien Fridays as much as I have. 

And, as a last treat; here's Tolkien reading Namarië:

Worldbuilding Wednesday – Smoke, Mirrors and Herbs

The Rún (Part 2) – How the healing cloths work

Last week I explained the Talent the Rún of Airthai has been given. Unlike the Ahma who has to be either in close proximity or touch a person to be able to heal them[1]; the Rún can be far away from their healing cloths, but the cloths will still work. This is because they are able to bestow some of their healing talent into the embroidery itself. Putting this cloth on someone in need of healing will cause the healing power to drain from the cloth.

The embroideries

The embroideries of the Rún consist out of depictions of certain plants as well as their own alphabet and language. This ‘secret’ language is taught orally only to the Rún and – even when written down – it is written in this language. These books are also kept only in the House of Rún and Holt Haliern to make sure that they do not fall into the wrong hands. Young Rún, while being taught the language, will make sampler cloths to more easily learn the language, learn to transfer meaning and learn to transfer their talent.

Each cloth is first embroidered with the suitable plants or parts of plants, for example flowers, seeds or roots. Next a healing or other prayer may be worked between the flowers. The floss with which the embroideries are made are all coloured by hand by Rún. Some of the Rún may spend all their time dyeing the threads with specific plants, while others only embroider – this depends wholly on their specific Talent.

The Fakes

There are some who copy the Rún style of embroidery while they are not Rún. These cloths are often sold as love charms, binding spells and even curses. While most of these cloths are complete fakes, some are made by Vídolf and can be truly dangerous.

WIPs

A couple of days ago, I mentioned on Twitter that I am busy with a short story. At the moment I’m using the working title “Here but for Grace” and it was one of those ideas that hits you square in the brain and you have to write it down as soon as you can. Building the layers and fleshing out the story, however, needs more research that picking my brain for the right files about mirrors and folklore (which is at the back of the cabinet, covered with some cobwebs and maybe even a lost spider spinning stories in her webs). So, I headed off for a trek across the room to one of the bookcases. I grabbed my trusty Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable and the Penguin Reference Dictionary of Symbols. But, as I am also busy with worldbuilding the Rún, I also grabbed one of the books dealing with herbs and traditional cures[2]…

Blackberries by the artist Helen M. Stevens

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[1] Those of the Ahma given the Talent to heal, that is.

[2] Yes, I really enjoy building my own reference library, ranging from the dictionaries I use in general work and translations to archaeological fieldwork and the trees of the Highveld. Which may also explain why some of the files in my brain gets misplaced every once in a while!

Inspirational Friday – Follow That Wanderlust

Or, travelling on a budget.

“So, what are you going to do this weekend?” This question is asked again and again at work on a Friday. Well, there are the usual errands and a nap (if you’re lucky), but there is also the mind-travelling. Technically, I’m going to spend time reading. But that is quite a boring way to say: “Well, actually I’m off on a quest this weekend. Off to slay a dragon (or save a dragon), save a world, and probably ride a horse and wield a sword. Or perhaps I’ll visit another country, planet or universe.”

And, if you’re also writing over the weekend, you’ll probably be packing a bag and heading off into the unknown with a half-drawn map (and some extra paper to jot down any new towns or landmarks you come across). You’ll be wearing a cloak of invisibility and yet change everything you come into contact with. That ‘castle over yonder’ is no longer just a hazy outline of stone, but filled with the bustle of people and intrigue. Maybe you’ll even add a wall or a scheming king while you’re there. Stories will unfurl, rewind, move in another direction or even abruptly stop; the story half told; the world half built.

“So, what are you doing this weekend?”

I think I’ll read a bit. Maybe write a couple of pages. But we’ll see.

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still around the corner we may meet
A sudden standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still around the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run,
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn and nut and sloe
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And to bed! And then to bed!

-      JRR Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Worldbuilding Airthai: The Rún

While the Shadow have the female servants called Vídolf (Women of the Dark Arts), the Light has those called the Rún (or the Hidden Ones). The Rún, like the Vídolf, consisted of far more women than men. So much so, in fact, that a male Rún was unheard of except in the southwest of the Western Lands and Western Isles; where there was one male Rún to every five female Rún. Although gifted with a special talent for healing, they were human and mortal, although they were more likely to reach the age of one hundred and twenty than other mortals. This made their life spans shorter than the average Ciph life span by only about thirty years.

Part 1 – The Name: Why the Hidden Ones?

This name was given to these women for two reasons. The first is that they usually hid in plain sight, living as just another member of the community. Only when living as one of the Keepers or as servant of one of the rich families could they wear the garments associated with the Rún with more freedom. This was because they could then be kept safe from the Servants of the Lewjan who wished always to do them harm because they held such power. Those living in villages or towns serving the Light would be referred to simply as “healers” or even “the needlewoman”, because their talents were with needle and thread. By using certain signs, depictions of living things (like plants) and words, they could make cloths that could heal wounds and illnesses that most healers can’t.

These signs, words and other depictions made into tapestries, embroideries and even sometimes lace and cords, were only known by the Rún (and is therefore hidden). The knowledge of these signs is taught orally from one Rún to the next. This means that Rún, once they are known as such, takes up apprenticeship with an older and accomplished Rún either from their own or another village or go to one of the Keepers’ Houses to learn. Holt Haliern in the Midlands and the House of Rún in the Western Lands have the Rún with the most talent and are therefore sought after places to go to and learn the language of the Rún.

The best of the Rún can fashion cloaks that make the wearer invisible to the eyes of the Lewjan servants or those who want to harm them. More than one Rún would often work on a cloth meant to heal a specific illness or wound; as it is extremely draining work. 


Unfortunately the cloths’ abilities can also be drained and can not be used indefinitely. The healing houses usually have cloths to help lessen pain, help knit bones or serve as an antidote to some poisons. These can be used for cases where the medicine available is not working or simply to ease extreme pain.  

They could make cloths that heal...

I came across this painting by Mary Cassat, called The Young Bride in the beautiful book In Praise of the Needlewoman by Gail C. Sirna. 

Fiction (sort of) Monday – Dragon’s Nest

Or, what started out as some thoughts about geography

The following piece started out as a musing about the geography and towns around the Dragon Cliffs. Although I had filled in some of the places on a map (which will only see the light of day once it’s been copied neatly), I still needed to flesh out the immediate surrounds a bit.

Dragon’s Nest (Part 1)

Mairejath, a Dragon Guardian of the Seafolk, made her way to the new nests to check on the eggs. During the night, five Guardians stood a vigil at each of the nests to make sure that no men from the north would try stealing them during the night. After the fateful day nearly twelve years ago when the first egg was stolen, the Guardians had thought that it would not happen again. They were wrong.

The men came nearly every summer. Each time they took eggs, Guardians, or both. The first time they had taken a young boy. He had just become an apprentice Guardian two weeks earlier after studying for four years. And while the other Guardians saved what and who they could, the boy was taken. Three dragons died in the subsequent fighting, along with over a hundred people when the dragons turned against them and attacked the closest town with fire and razor-sharp talons. That was the first time the dragons had ever turned against their Guardians. The Guardians bound them, explained what happened and promised to do whatever they could to keep it from happening again.

But the previous trust that existed between the dragons and Guardians were broken. And the men from the northern plain did come again. At first everyone was sure that none of the Seafolk ever helped the thieves from the north, but in time all agreed that they must have had help from someone who knew the south and who knew the ways of the dragons. It had come to the point where the Dragon Guardians and the other Seafolk started to question each other’s loyalties and the loyalties of the other people of Reiaghy. And so, watchtowers were built, soldiers multiplied in the Seafolk’s towns and parents no longer wanted to let their children study to become Dragon Guardians.  

Mairejath trudged up the steep slope, keeping her eyes on the ground so as not to trip on the rocks. There were no real paths to the dragons, though the Guardians did know the quickest way to the nests – and, more importantly, their dragon’s nest.

Glathnir, a great dragon of a pure blue colour had chosen Mairejath to be one of her Guardians. She was carrying a bag of food on her back for the five Guardians who had stood guard at her nest during the night. She had not slept well, her ears alert through the night to hear the sound of the Guardian’s bells if they should see the nests’ beacons lit. These beacons were built from slow-burning wood and brush and were lit only when the nest was in danger. Because the dragons mostly left the nests at night to feed, the eggs were at their most vulnerable during the dark hours. When the light was seen by the Guardians keeping watch at the Guardians’ house, they, in turn, rung the bells to wake both the Guardians and call the soldiers in the city below to arms.

From Glathnir’s nest on the Dragon Cliffs, various towns and towers were visible. There was the Ruins of Dhôr – a city lost in the Sundering, the lighthouse south of the breeding ground and on the edge of Duizisburg, her hometown and the home of the Dragon Guardians. Although most people have come to call the town simply Dragonburg – being easier to pronounce and making it sound less exotic. Perhaps people have started to forget that we escaped from the Sundered Lands. In the distance you could just make out Midton and beyond it still lay the harbor towns and the Gold Tower – another lighthouse, the name of which made it sound much grander than the white-washed stone tower it actually was.

(To be continued)

Inspirational Friday – Warrior's laments

Or, “Where now the horse and the rider” by JRR Tolkien

For the third week of September’s Tolkien-themed Inspiration Fridays, I’ve chosen one of my favourite poems from Lord of the Rings. Tolkien’s inspiration for this poem can be traced to the Anglo-Saxon poem “The Wanderer”.  Below is Tolkien’s poem, followed by the Anglo-Saxon and contemporary English translation from the appropriate passage of “The Wanderer”.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

John DiBartolo has also set this poem to music – you can find out more at this website. 

From “The Wanderer”

Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? 

Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?

Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?

Hwær sindon seledreamas?

Eala beorht bune!

Eala byrnwiga!

Eala þeodnes þrym!

Hu seo þrag gewat,

genap under nihthelm,

swa heo no wære.

Stondeð nu on laste

leofre duguþe

weal wundrum heah,

wyrmlicum fah.

Eorlas fornoman

asca þryþe,

wæpen wælgifru,

wyrd seo mære,

ond þas stanhleoþu

stormas cnyssað,

hrið hreosende

hrusan bindeð,

wintres woma,

þonne won cymeð,

nipeð nihtscua,

norþan onsendeð

hreo hæglfare And in contemporary English:

Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?

Where the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats at the feast?

Where are the revels in the hall?

Alas for the bright cup!

Alas for the mailed warrior!

Alas for the splendour of the prince!

How that time has passed away,

dark under the cover of night,

as if it had never been!

Now there stands in the trace

of the beloved troop

a wall, wondrously high,

wound round with serpents.

The warriors taken off

by the glory of spears,

the weapons greedy for slaughter,

the famous fate (turn of events),

and storms beat

these rocky cliffs,

falling frost

fetters the earth,

the harbinger of winter;

Then dark comes,

nightshadows deepen,

from the north there comes

a rough hailstorm

in malice against men. A replica of the Sutton Hoo Helm - absolutely exquisite

Worldbuilding Wednesday: Moonstruck - lunar folklore

In yesterday’s Worldbuilding post, gave the meanings of the names of some of the different ‘good guys’. In another post about the Khalné, Khalvér and their students who have to choose who they want to follow and serve, one of the leading teachers – and spokesperson of the Khalvér at the occasion – wanted to ‘correct’ his equal on the Khalné’s side:

“Centuries ago when the world was still young, there were those with the Talent and they used it for the good of mankind and they were called the Khallahna. But on the day of the Battle of the Black Field there came a rent in the brotherhood of the Khallahna and the Khallahna was split into two groups. One, the Khalné, called the servants of Light. The other, the Khalvér, the servants of the Darkness.”

“I believe you mean ‘Servants of the Moon’,” Trialma interjected in the moment Parlegon paused for breath.

This name – Servants of the Moon – must be understood in the context of the world; which gives me a chance to go a bit into the symbolism of Airthai.

The sun, moon and stars

 The Keepers’ signs all contain the four stars of the main constellation used for navigation. Stars, however, were also seen as a sign from the Creator that, even with the darkening of the world, with the people’s fall and the Sundering, there is always light and hope. The Creator is also sometimes referred to as the Light. While the sun is the obvious symbol of Light during the day, the moon is the symbol of Light during the night. Because of the perceived static nature of stars and the ever-changing moon, stars came to be considered a sign of never-wavering loyalty and Light.

The waxing and waning of the moon

Like the moon waxes and wanes, so the Khalvér believe that they will never be defeated, but will always return to grow to full power once more. Other than the stars’ light, they teach that the moonlight is the true light, placing emphasis on (or highlighting if you will) everything. Moonlight is believed to be ‘concentrated’ or ‘stronger’ sunlight.

 This reasoning is especially used by the Khalvér while the students of the Khallahna are being taught and used to sway students from choosing to follow the Khalné. By choosing to serve the ‘Stronger Light’ many are led to believe that they are choosing the right way and are the true heirs of the Khallahna. Their hatred of the Ahma, however, speaks directly against this.

Worship of the moon

The twisting of the original knowledge of the Khallahna and the folklore and beliefs before the Sundering can especially be seen in the ways of the Lharna–ahna[1] people (of the northwest of the Sundered Lands), who believe that the moon is their lord and which they serve. They make an offering every new/dark moon. By doing this, they believe that they will win back their lord’s favour and ‘call back’ their lord’s face to watch them for another month.

The Lharna-ahna is one of the few peoples of Airthai who make neither a distinction between the Creator and the Lewjan as the one who they serve. The Khalvér, though sometimes referring to themselves as “Servants of the moon”, don’t worship it, but the Lewjan.

They referred to themselves as Servants of the Moon...

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[1] Lharna – “moon”

A short Worldbuilding Tuesday: The Good Guys – a note about the language

Or, dabbling in strange tongues

While preparing the ‘next’ Worldbuilding post; it turned into two – then three – then four posts. Instead of writing a whole essay and not simply a blogpost, I’ve decided to split them into short posts to make it both easier to read and to keep track of. Today I start with a short language post.

I’ve written quite a bit about the Khallahna, the Khalné and the Khalvér – but I have not yet focused on the meaning of these names. Well, here they are:

‘Khal’ – servant, with ‘khalla’ being ‘servant of’

‘Ahma’ – refers to the soul or spirit of mortals and the Great or First Spirit of the Creator.

‘Ahna’ – refers collectively to the mortal peoples of Airthai. After the Sundering, this was understood as meaning the people of the Continent and the Isles. Those of the Sundered Lands were most commonly known as ‘the Fallen’ or the ‘Servants of the Shadow’.

Khallahma – Servants of the Spirit

Khallahna – Servants of the People

After the Khallahna wars, the Khallahna split into two groups who called themselves the Khalné and Khalvér.

Néa – light – may also refer to the Creator (as with the Tellerassar’s language).

Véar – dark – may also refer to the Lewjan.

Khalné – Servants of the Light

Khalvér – Servants of the Dark

The claim by the Khalvér that their name means “Servants of the Moon” are thus untrue. The mythology and knowledge behind the light/dark and light/moon will be the focus of tomorrow’s Worldbuilding Wednesday.

Friday Inspiration: Shadow Bride by JRR Tolkien

For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen another of JRR Tolkien’s poems. “Shadow Bride” is another poem from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. Below the poem is a video where the poem is sung beautifully by Colin John Rudd.

Shadow Bride

There was a man who dwelt alone,

as day and night went past

he sat as still as carven stone,

and yet no shadow cast.

The white owls perched upon his head

beneath the winter moon;

they wiped their beaks and thought him dead

under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey

in the twilight shining:

one moment she would stand and stay,

her hair with flowers entwining.

He woke, as had he sprung of stone,

and broke the spell that bound him;

he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,

and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways

by sun or moon or star;

she dwells below where neither days

nor any nights there are.

But once a year when caverns yawn

and hidden things awake,

they dance together then till dawn

and a single shadow make.

In other news:

Seeing as this week’s worldbuilding post’s posting went a little pear-shaped this week, I’ll have two worldbuilding posts next week (if all goes according to plan this time).  

Flash Fiction: Elgar

Here’s the flash fiction piece meant for yesterday’s Monday Fiction; but bumped to today as the photo of the “dragon egg” was just too brilliant not to share.

I first introduced Elgar in the piece “A Father’s Choice”. In this one, I had a look at the Talent/powers of the Khalné and the Khalvér and how they interact with each other when they have to try to win students hoping to be Khallahna over to their side. Tomorrow, for Worldbuilding Wednesday, I’ll take a closer look at these two factions that once formed the Khallahna.

Elgar

Elgar entered the hall with his heart beating in his throat. Today was the day he had been training for for five years. Today he would choose the path he will follow for the rest of his life. He was the strongest student in the group, the one with the most Talent. He took his place among the other students dressed in the same brown as he.

Né Parlegon, a near-bald, middle-aged man cleared his throat as he stepped up to speak to the twenty or so students before him. Dressed in a cream robe hemmed in red and gold, he stood in stark contrast to the large frame next to him dressed in deep purple. His voice was stiff as he started to speak. “Today I see before me not students of the Talent, but the future leaders of our world. This day will be the last day on which you will wear the brown of students. Today, you will choose your path.” Parlegon shuffled the papers in front of him. He hated the day the students had to choose which side of the Khallahna they will be part of. Most of them were still too young to know much about the world, let alone choose a path for themselves.

“Centuries ago when the world was still young, there were those with the Talent and they used it for the good of mankind and they were called the Khallahna. But on the day of the Battle of the Black Field there came a rent in the brotherhood of the Khallahna and the Khallahna was split into two groups. One, the Khalné, called the servants of Light. The other, the Khalvér, the servants of the Darkness.”

“I believe you mean ‘Servants of the Moon’,” Trialma interjected in the moment Parlegon paused for breath.

The Né swallowed hard. He knew the old texts. He knew “vér” meant “darkness”. He could feel the eyes of Vér Trialma boring into his back. Rather than start a fight, Parlegon continued with his speech.

“I will not lie to you. If you choose the path of the Khalné, your name will not be known. You will not be taught the spells and potions of the Khalvér that works on the minds of those they target. You may sit among peers and friends today, but from tomorrow, you will fight them as they fight you. It is not an easy road, but it is a necessary one. Make your choice well today. Do not be moved by sly words, but solely by the fire in you.”

Trialma had heard enough. “Your time is up, Né Parlegon. It is my turn to speak.” His voice was clearer than that of Parlegon, his accent one of a learned man. He never stumbled over his words, not like Parlegon who still had the alien accent of the northern city of Almiaka in Edaron.

“Brothers, sisters,” Trialma intoned. “You have learned how to use the Talent as a child learns his letters. Now is the time to embrace the power you have been given. The Né Parlegon wish to stand here and tell you to join them but not use the Talent you have been given. To use it only as he sees fit. To never slay anyone with it yet fight the Khalvér! If you are stronger in Talent, you will only be at home with the Khalvér. If you are weak, you will join the Né. Both roads have the same ending. Why hide your Talent when you can be powerful and make a change in the world? Join us, the brothers of the Vér.” He pointed to where other Khalvér entered the hall.

Elgar saw himself in a purple robe, his father at last proud of him, his people at his feet. His Talent harnessed to make him the strongest Vér in Trelkanor. 

Without a call from Parlegon, the cream dressed Khalné entered the hall on the other side.

The Khalvér stuck out their arms, clenching their hands into fists. The Khalné caught their breaths as if they were being strangled.

Elgar Ashwood gazed in horror at the gasping Né. He looked back at the stage. Parlegon was on his feet. Trialma had his hand out as well, a snide grin on his face. Everyone else watched the other Khalné, their minds being turned by actions, not by words. Parlegon did not gasp for breath, he did not struggle. He simply batted with his hand as if he was batting away a fly. Trialma’s arm shot back and the grin vanished very quickly. He tried to lift his arm once again, but found it pinned to his side.

“Release yourselves,” Parlegon said.

He saw the other Khalné make the same movement, some fighting the force with which they were held, most breaking the force easily.

“Release them,” Trialma said.

“A low blow, Trialma,” Parlegon mouthed and Elgar looked towards the Khalvér. Their arms did seem a bit stiff next to them.

Trialma turned to the audience of students, still not lifting his hand. Elgar looked around him, wondering if the others had noticed Parlegon’s power as well.

“You have seen our power,” Trialma said. “Now, make your choice.”

The students rose and started to file out of the door of the side they have chosen. Some said a last farewell to friends, others did not so much as look at those not taking their side. Only three joined the Khalné.

Elgar made his way to the left side of the hall where the Né waited. Parlegon stood by the door.

“Why have you chosen the Né?” he asked.

Elgar looked up into the black eyes of the man. “I saw how easily you released yourself from Vér Trialma. I saw how the Né pinned the Vér’s arms to their sides.” He rambled and took a breath. “But I wouldn’t have chosen the darkness even if the Vér had won.”

Né Parlegon smiled. “You speak the truth, though you speak fast. You will be a good student.”

Elgar smiled and looked behind him at those following him. There were only  five of the students in brown behind him. The other fifty or so clustered around the doors on the far side of the hall. Suddenly, he was filled with fear.

“You do not have to be afraid,” one of the Khalné outside the door told him. “It is the same every year. We are enough as we are.”

Elgar looked back over his shoulder.

“You really believe that?”

“I do. Come, the day have almost passed and we still have much to do.”