This story was written for the 23 January Flash!Friday competition, with “beach” and the photo as prompt.
Where Only Sand Remains
The sand was our salvation. We fled to the beaches and there our craftsmen breathed life into it. Melting it. Moulding it. Shaping the sand of the shore into ships of sheer glass. Ships that could ferry us to safety. Through the watchful nights the fires of the furnaces glowed and burned like the gaping mouths of lava-filled fissures. Like the breath of the dragons we’d left behind.
At the furnaces dark silhouettes fashioned glass through the night while some slept and others sang the magic songs to the glass; trapping the words even as it hardened. Those too old to work stared at the sea and told stories of the lands beyond the waves, beyond our shores. But none of us had ever dared to sail to where the sky and ocean met.
We unfurled the sails and left our shore for the horizon on the day the wind rose and the fog covered the land. Our songs caught the wind and we soared into the sky until we could look down at the beach where our old memories and old lives remained beneath the fog. There, where now only sand remains.
Dragons – and in the case of Smaug, his hoard – do have their place in
the stories of Middle-Earth. Using images and elements from literature like The Nibelungenlied and Beowulf, Tolkien masterfully crafts new
stories which have stood – and I believe will keep on standing – the test of
time. In many cases – like me, for instance – the references of old tales and
poems have led people to rediscover literature from the Middle Ages which have
largely disappeared from general knowledge.
Tolkien also wrote a beautiful poem about a treasure hoard which may
move one to tears. I found this recording on YouTube of Tolkien himself
reciting this poem!
In The Hobbit Bilbo steals a
jewelled cup from the dragon Smaug’s hoard. A like episode is found in the
Anglo-Saxon poem Beowulf. In Beowulf a dragon takes to guarding an
old hoard of treasure. Someone finds his way – by a hidden passage – to the
gold and steals a “gem-studded goblet” (Heaney 1999:71). Although he steals
this away while the dragon is sleeping, the dragon awakes, realises the goblet
is gone and attacks the Geats (who Beowulf rules in these years). The thief in Beowulf is sympathetically described as
follows:
The intruder who broached the dragon’s treasure
and moved him to wrath had never meant to.
It was desperation on the part of a slave
fleeing the heavy hand of some master,
guilt-ridden and on the run,
going to ground.
(Heaney 1999:71)
Rather than steal a fair amount of the hoard, he only takes one cup,
never imagining that this theft would lead to the deaths of many innocent Geats
as well as their heroic leader, who had slain Grendel and his mother when he
was younger.
My favourite translation of the poem is that by Seamus Heaney, but
various other translations can be found on the internet. Below is part of the
description of the dragon, its hoard and its fury. This translation, by Lesslie
Hall, can be found on Project Gutenberg.
The translation by Seamus Heaney was published in 1999 by Faber and Faber
and can be found here.
THE HOARD AND THE DRAGON.
10 He a gem-vessel saw
there: many of suchlike
Ancient ornaments in the
earth-cave were lying,
As in days of yore some
one of men of
Illustrious lineage, as
a legacy monstrous,
There had secreted them,
careful and thoughtful,
15 Dear-valued jewels.
Death had offsnatched them,
In the days of the past,
and the one man moreover
Of the flower of the
folk who fared there the longest,
Was fain to defer it,
friend-mourning warder,
A little longer to be
left in enjoyment
20 Of long-lasting
treasure.[1] A barrow all-ready
Stood on the plain the stream-currents
nigh to,
New by the ness-edge,
unnethe of approaching:
The keeper of rings
carried within a
Ponderous deal of the
treasure of nobles,
25 Of gold that was beaten,
briefly he spake then:[3]
{The ring-giver bewails the loss of retainers.}
"Hold thou, O
Earth, now heroes no more may,
The earnings of earlmen.
Lo! erst in thy bosom
Worthy men won them;
war-death hath ravished,
Perilous life-bale, all
my warriors,
30 Liegemen belovèd, who
this life have forsaken,
Who hall-pleasures saw.
No sword-bearer have I,
And no one to burnish
the gold-plated vessel,
The high-valued beaker:
my heroes are vanished.
The hardy helmet behung with gilding
35 Shall be reaved of its
riches: the ring-cleansers slumber
Who were charged to have
ready visors-for-battle,
And the burnie that
bided in battle-encounter
[77] O'er breaking of war-shields
the bite of the edges
Moulds with the hero. The
ring-twisted armor,
40 Its lord being lifeless,
no longer may journey
Hanging by heroes;
harp-joy is vanished,
The rapture of glee-wood,
no excellent falcon
Swoops through the
building, no swift-footed charger
Grindeth the gravel. A
grievous destruction
45 No few of the world-folk
widely hath scattered!"
So, woful of spirit one
after all
Lamented mournfully,
moaning in sadness
By day and by night, till death with
its billow
{The fire-dragon}
Dashed on his spirit.
Then the ancient dusk-scather
50 Found the great treasure
standing all open,
He who flaming and fiery
flies to the barrows,
Naked war-dragon,
nightly escapeth
Encompassed with fire;
men under heaven
Widely beheld him. 'Tis
said that he looks for
55 The hoard in the earth,
where old he is guarding
The heathenish treasure;
he'll be nowise the better.
{The dragon meets his match.}
So three-hundred winters
the waster of peoples
Held upon earth that
excellent hoard-hall,
Till the forementioned earlman
angered him bitterly:
60 The beat-plated beaker
he bare to his chieftain
And fullest remission
for all his remissness
Begged of his liegelord.
Then the hoard[5] was discovered,
The treasure was taken,
his petition was granted
{The hero plunders the dragon's den}
The lorn-mooded liegeman. His lord regarded
65 The old-work of
earth-folk--'twas the earliest occasion.
When the dragon awoke,
the strife was renewed there;
He snuffed 'long the
stone then, stout-hearted found he
[78] The footprint of foeman;
too far had he gone
With cunning craftiness
close to the head of
70 The fire-spewing dragon.
So undoomed he may 'scape from
Anguish and exile with
ease whopossesseth
The favor of Heaven. The
hoard-warden eagerly
Searched o'er the ground
then, would meet with the person
That caused him sorrow
while in slumber reclining:
75 Gleaming and wild he oft
went round the cavern,
All of it outward; not any
of earthmen
Was seen in that
desert.[6] Yet he joyed in the battle,
Rejoiced in the
conflict: oft he turned to the barrow,
Sought for the
gem-cup;[7] this he soon perceived then
{The dragon perceives that some one has disturbed his treasure.}
80 That some man or other
had discovered the gold,
The famous
folk-treasure. Not fain did the hoard-ward
Wait until evening; then
the ward of the barrow
Was angry in spirit, the
loathèd one wished to
Pay for the dear-valued
drink-cup with fire.
85 Then the day was done as
the dragon would have it,
Many of the fantasy world maps available on the net are beautiful computer renditions of the worlds. Mine, alas, is not. Well, not yet. One reason is that I don’t have mapmaking software. The more important reason is that I enjoy drawing them by hand. And while I’ve posted a few maps, I also make maps as I go along to map out certain places, cities or, in the case below, the site of the Battle of the Shadow Plain. This one was made in a notebook while I was plotting out the Midland Wars.
The map I refer to on this page is this one – three maps showing the Midland Wars:
The Battle of the Shadow Plain
And so it was that, in the fifty-fifth year of the Midland Wars, King Maeldra of Guldargan met the forces of Ikaira on Argavér, the Shadow Plain. The battle was terrible, but Ikaira was victorious and took up the crown of Guldargan. Maeldra was killed during that battle and the Fáll retreated into the Great Wood. A semblance of peace fell upon Guldargan for a short time and the skirmishes with the surrounding kingdoms petered out and many diplomatic missions were sent to the surrounding kingdoms. By Ikaira’s request, the Keepers of Théotriewe and Holt Haliern helped to bring peace to the north of the Midlands and secure what little was left of Guldargan.
But this was not the end of the Fáll, for they crowned Maeldra’s young son Markus their king and believed him the one true king of Guldargan as he was a direct descendant of King Gile. They built a great fortress on the blood drenched plain of Argavér and secured much of the land around it for themselves through their dark magic. Soon all the land under the Fáll’s control was called Argavér or the Shadow Lands.
