Hobbit Maandag – Die draak se skat

Drake – en in die geval van Smaug, sy skat – het beslis hulle plek in die stories oor Middle-Earth. Deur gebruik te maak van elemente uit literatuur soos die Nibelungenlied en Beowulf, skep Tolkien meesterlik nuwe stories wat – en ek glo steeds sal – die toets van tyd deurstaan. In baie gevalle – soos met my – het hierdie verwysings na ou verhale en gedigte mense gelei om weer die literatuur van die Middeleeue, wat byna uit algemene kennis verdwyn het, te ontdek.

Tolkien het ook ’n pragtige gedig oor ’n skat geskryf wat mens tot trane kan dryf. Ek het hierdie opname van Tolkien wat die gedig lees op YouTube gevind! 

In The Hobbit steel Bilbo ’n beker wat met juwele versier is uit die draak se skat. ’n Soortgelyke episode word in die Angel-Saksiese gedig Beowulfgevind.  In Beowulf waak ‘n draak ook oor ‘n ou skat. Iemand vind ’n manier om by hierdie skat uit te kom deur ‘n versteekte tonnel en steel ook ’n “gem-studded goblet” (Heaney 1999:71). Alhoewel hy dit steel terwyl die draak slap, kom dié agter dat die beker weg is wanneer hy wakker word en val die Geats (waaroor Beowulf in hierdie jare heers) aan. Die dief in Beowulf word simpatiek beskryf:

                        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)

Eerder as om ’n groot hoeveelheid van die skat te steel, neem hy slegs een beker en sou nooit kon raai dat hierdie daad die dood van baie onskuldige Geats en ook hulle heroïese leier sou beteken nie. Dié leier wat in sy jonger dae die monster Grendel en dié se ma doodgemaak het nie.

My gunsteling vertaling van die gedig is dié deur Seamus Heaney, maar veskeie ander vertalings ka nook op die internet gevind word. Hieronder is deel van die beskrywing van die draak, sy skat en die verwoesting wat hy saai. Hierdie vertaling deur Lesslie Hall, kan by Project Gutenberg gevind word.

Seamus Heaney se vertaling van die gedig is in 1999 deur Faber and Fabergepubliseer en kan hier gevind word.

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,

          He no longer would wait on the wall, but departed

{The dragon is infuriated.}

          Fire-impelled, flaming. Fearful the start was

          To earls in the land, as it early thereafter

          To their giver-of-gold was grievously ended.

Wêreldbou Woensdag – Draaktrane

Deel 1 - die indigo stene


Ek het reeds ‘n paar stukkies stories geplaas oor die drake van Airthai en daarin is daar sprake van die sogenaamde “draaktrane”. Hierdie draaktrane speel ook ‘n redelike groot rol in die kortverhaal “A Dragon’s Freedom”.

Draaktrane is stene of half edelgesteentes wat gevorm word wanneer die trane van die drake in Airthai verhard soos wat dit in aanraking kom met die lug. Hierdie draaktrane kom voor waarookal drake woonagtig is of waar hulle gewoon het. Daar is verskillende soorte draaktrane wat verskillende kleure is en wat verskillende gebruike vir die drake en die drake se bewakers het. Hieronder word die verskillende stene genoem, saam met ’n beskrywing van die funksie daarvan.
Hierdie week gaan ek die indigo stene beskryf en volgende week die res van die soorte draaktrane.

Die indigo stene 
Hierdie stene word meestal in die Middellande gesien en is ook daar die bekendste. Die indigo stene is by verre die algemeenste van die draaktrane en word dus gewoonlik net “draaktrane” genoem, terwyl die ander kleure elk ’n ander naam of name besit.

"Indigo trane word gestort wanneer drake in
rou is of gevange is"

Indigo trane word gestort wanneer drake in rou is of gevange is – soos gebeur het in die koninkryk van Guldargan. Vir dié wat nie die woorde ken waarmee die stene aan die brand gesteek kan word nie is die stene slegs versiering en is veral gesog omdat dit selfs in die donker met ’n lig van binne gloei. In sommige plekke word die stene selfs gebruik vir beligting in die rykste huise – veral die wat in die stad Marglóthborg gevind word. Die gloei van die stene word ook gesien in die grotte onder Treddian en in die tonnels van Holt Haliern, maar die bestaan van groot hoeveelhede van die stene word streng geheim gehou deur die Bewakers van Holt Haliern en die konings van Treddian.

Baie van die stene onder Holt Haliern en die stad Adea in Treddian is trane wat deur die drake in die moerasse noord van die Grootwoud gestort is deur die wilde drake wat daar gewoon het nadat Nasja die drake in Guldargan vrygelaat het. Hulle het daar gerou omdat hulle nie na die see terug kon keer nie en ook vir die drake wat daar en in die Middellande gedood is. Hierdie stene het mettertyd in die strome beland wat na die ondergrondse riviere van die Grootwoud gelei het. Hierdie strome loop onder Holt Haliern deur, deur tonnels en grotte na Treddian.

*Foto van Ioliet deur "Clever Girl Style"

(Nie-)fiksie Vrydag: The Dragon’s Trail deur Joanna Pitman

Boekresensie: The Dragon’s Trail: The Biography of Raphael’s Masterpiece deur Joanna Pitman. ’n Touchstone Book, gepubliseer deur Simon & Schuster. ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-6513-3.
Vind dit hier op Goodreads.

In The Dragon’s Trail, vertel Pitman die verhaal van ’n enigmatiese klassieke meesterstuk deur een van die Renaissance se bekendste kunstenaars. Ek dink nie enigiemand kan voor een van Raphael se kunswerke staan – of selfs net daarna kyk nie – sonder om deur die skoonheid en talent van die kunstenaar se kwas aangeraak te word nie. Sy skildery, St. George en die draak – wat in 1506 as opdragwerk aangevra is – is geverf toe Raphael slegs drie-en-twintig was. Maar Pitman vertel nie net die verhaal van hoe die skildery geverf is nie, maar volg die lang lewe van hierdie wonderlike skildery deur die daaropvolgende eeue tot die hede.

Hierdie verhaal is nie slegs die verhaal van ’n skildery nie, maar ook die verhaal van die mense wat dit besit en hulle plek in die geskiedenis en sluit in konings, rewolusies, rykdom en armoede en strek van Italië, Engeland en Rusland na Amerika. Pitman skryf in pragtige, dramatiese prosa wat meer soos ’n roman as ’n boek oor kunsgeskiedenis of geskiedenis lees. The Dragon’s Trail is ’n boek vir die leke persoon of die kunsliefhebber, maar ongeag hiervan, is die passie waarmee die boek geskryf is die aansteeklik. Pitman se liefde van kuns en veral hierdie kunswerk word wonderlik in hierdie boek uitgebeeld.

Ek kan hierdie boek aanbeveel vir liefhebbers van geskiedenis, kuns en die Renaissance. Maar, alhoewel die boek se stofomslag wel ’n pragtige kleurafbeelding van die skildery bevat, sou ek dit verkies het as die afbeelding van die skildery binne die boek ook in kleur was en nie slegs in grys nie. Dalk in ’n volgende uitgawe?

Vir algemene leesgenot en -baarheid, gee ek die boek vier en ’n half uit vyf sterre. Definitief ’n boek wat ek weer sal lees.

Foto deur wikipedia. 

Worldbuilding Wednesday– A Dragon’s Freedom

Part 1: A backstory is needed and a hero steps forth

*Spoiler alert! If you haven’t read “A Dragon’s Freedom” you can click here for the free download (in Issue 5).*

The actual reason for writing “A Dragon’s Freedom” was to write about the life of the dragon Skáhag who plays such a vital role in the later years of the Midlands of Airthai. His death was actually the first thing I wrote about him (poor thing!) as part of the story of both the forming of Naeddre and the love story between Ameragh and Síldu. At that time I was writing a novel about the Midlands (no, it will never see the light of day in its current form – it was practice, or so I tell myself now) and I had built up the people of Naeddre’s mythology of Skáhag. But I needed to know where the dragon came from – and what it was doing in the Midlands in the first place.

Seat-of-Pants Worldbuilding

So, while this story was the first published, it was set in a world I already knew quite well. But, this was all written before the creation story of the world and the story of the sundering. I had just made up the Dragon Guardians on the southern coast and already had a vague story about a ‘not-very-nice’king of the Midlands who gathered dragon tears for riches. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

I wanted the dragons to be simply animals in the world (albeit talking animals). So, like any animal, it would be ‘good’ until treated in such a way that it lashed out. Skáhag had been mistreated during his life, and bound by magic to a master, so that his fight was as much against humans as the darkness created within him. When Ameragh sings to him a song that releases its bonds, his death at the hand of his master is bittersweet as he is at last freed.

By this time the (somewhat) secret language used by the Dragon Guardians and dragons was already present in Ameragh’s song (Here’s the song). I then decided that, because it was so powerful, that it was only known by a select few – the Dragon Guardians, the dragons and the Seafolk’s elders, although they knew it to a much lesser extent. This language was gifted to the Guardians and the dragons in much the same way the Tellerassar was given their own language. Therefore, if the king stole a dragon egg, he would need someone who could communicate with the dragon. Enter Nasja...

A boy called Nasja

The first scene of the story which popped into my head was the dragon’s nest and a boy stealing one of the eggs. At first this was supposed to have been done because of greed on his part (and he was older). But that didn’t sit well with what I had in mind for the rest of the story. For me it was a lot more striking to have him do something which is taboo for Dragon Guardians in order to save his family than simply do it for payment.

The next scene I wrote was of Nasja in the king’s palace. Although I needed a reason for him not to be able to escape, he probably would not have had a banged-up leg if it wasn’t that my own bad knee (the right one, not the left – see, it’s complete different…) was extremely painful that day![1]

At this point, I planned and wrote the rest of the story in a rough draft. When I had finished it, however, I realised that I had had Nasja basically act alone and didn’t really give him cause as to why he would suddenly, after a good ten to twelve years, decide to free the dragons and go home. I left the story to stew, pottering around every now and then and then turned my thoughts to some other short fiction and worldbuilding while I figured it out.

Next week: Worldbuilding shape-shifters and magicians

---

[1] Mine is banged-up from ballet, though, and not being kidnapped and dragged over a desert... Cold weather, however, doesn’t really care how you ended up hurting yourself. 

I found a picture of a dragon egg!

Or, the joy of finding a photo that matches a description in a fantasy story.

When I first wrote about the dragon eggs in Airthai – and more specifically at the start of “A Dragon’s Freedom”, I described them as looking like white quartz and the cliffs where the dragons’ nests are as having red sand…

The eggs looked like oblong pieces of milky quartz washed to smooth perfection by river water. Five of them lay in an indentation in the earth, baking in the sun. Around them a circle wide enough for the mother to land in was cleared. The nest itself was not much to look at, little more than loosely-packed soil and trampled brush. - "A Dragon's Freedom"; Cross and Cosmos Issue 5.

(For the rest of the story, click here.)

And then I came across this photo by Don Shearman – how awesome is that!

A Dragon Egg

A very warm thank you to Don for the use of this photo.

PS. I'll post the fiction piece I had planned for today tomorrow to keep the posts from getting too long. 

Die drakelied van Ameragh/ Ameragh's Dragon Song

Here is a short "song" I wrote for another character in Airthai, Ameragh. In one instance, she sings a dragon to sleep by using the "Ancient tongue" gifted to some of the peoples to be able to communicate with the dragons. This is sang to the dragon Skahag, another wild dragon. His tale is told in part in "A Dragon's Freedom", a short story I hope to get published in the near future.

But, until then, here is the Dragon Song - followed by two translations.

afdóbna slépan


nachts diuzis-winnan

funins diuzis-winnan

aírthós diuzis-winnan

aftra aflinnan aírthái

aftra aflinnan afdumbna

afslagan bileitha

afdóbna slépan

slépan nachts diuzis-winnan!



wat beteken:



wees stil, slaap

draak van nag

draak van vuur

draak van aarde

gaan terug na die aarde

gaan terug na stilte

moenie doodmaak nie

wees stil, slaap

slaap draak van nag



which means:



be still, sleep

dragon of night

dragon of fire

dragon of earth

go back to the earth

go back to the silence

do not kill

be still, sleep

sleep dragon of night

 
In the next post I will give a few thoughts of my own about mythology, legend and the like and share the "Creation Story" of Airthai. Every world needs a beginning...

The Guardian

This is a Flash piece I've written for the monthly Flash Fiction contest over at SFFWorld.com. I'm drawing on the world of Airthai that I've created, but decided to rather do this piece completely in English, 'translating' the ancient language where needed.
This month's theme is "Redemption"... and out of it was born a new character - Liuter, a Dragon Guardian.

Read on...

The Guardian


Liuter went to the town expecting to be killed. He was chosen, as a Dragon Guardian, to rid Tonburg of a wild dragon. Around him the town lay in smouldering ruins. Almost none of the people dared to remain in the gutted town. The dead had been buried and most of the people had fled to the farmlands. It had taken a Liuter a week to reach the town. At first, when the Dragon Guardians had heard that a dragon had been spotted to the south of the Great River, they had rejoiced at one of the stolen kin returning to the coast. But then the beast had started to wreak havoc on its way south, burning and killing and it became clear that the dragon was one of the wild ones that had escaped the clutch of Marcus of Guldargan.

Liuter switched his shoulder bag from his left to his right shoulder. In it he carried some rations, a field book and a vial of distilled Dragon’s Bane poison. At his hip hung a short sword. Around his neck hung one of the stones called a Dragon’s Gift. He hoped that he would not need to use the poison or the sword.

He made his way from the town; following the charred land to the ridge the dragon had made its home. He did not try to sneak up to the beast – its sense of smell was far too good. But he did start to sing a song in the ancient tongue the Dragon Guardians used to communicate with the great beasts. He sang for calmness and rest and to let the dragon know that he was coming in peace. The poor thing must have been through hell in the fighting force of the old king. The king had sent out mercenaries to steal dragon eggs from the southern coast. He even kidnapped some of the Guardians to be able to communicate to the beasts. None of the Guardians were seen again and the dragons had become wild, dumb beasts.

Liuter stepped up to the overhang where the red dragon laid, stretched out and apparently asleep. The young Guardian seeing that the dragon was entirely scarlet in colour, instead of the sapphire hue of the sea. He started speaking to the dragon in the ancient tongue that held the Talent to communicate to the beasts. He asked the dragon its name. A yellow, cat-like eye glared at him from beneath the bony blood red brow ridge, but did not give an answer. Instead, the thoughts that pelted him were wild, wordless and full of malice.

He took the Dragon’s Gift from beneath his brown tunic. “See,” he said. “This was gifted to me by some of your kin. I’ve come to take you home.” He went on to tell the glaring dragon of the shimmering sea and the tall cliffs where his kin lived. The language was melodious and musical and even put him at ease before this great dragon.

The dragon stirred and lifted one of its great claws slowly, stretching it out to the Guardian; his eye fixed on the stone he held in his hand. Luiter glanced down and felt bile rising in his throat, for beneath the scarlet claw was a severed human limb. When the beasts pulled back its scaly lips to reveal its great teeth, Liuter saw that they were stained with gore. He quickly uttered more words of peace to place the dragon at ease and then bound it in place with an old rhyme – used only as a last resort, and only to those beasts fallen to the shadow. Those that, against their nature, revelled in killing men. The dragon struggled against its invisible bonds, but managed only in scratching at the dirt and rocks beneath its great claws.

Liuter took the distilled poison from his pack and walked closer to the dragon. He could not help the tears that flowed over his cheeks as he tipped the vial of poison into the great beast’s maw. With more words and promises of peace he watched the fire in its eyes die. Then, when he was sure that the nameless dragon’s heart had stopped beating, he cut out its heart and buried it some way away. The last thing he needed was someone skilled in the dark arts using the dragon’s heart in his spells.

When he turned to leave, his eyes caught a piece of smooth quartz not far from the dragon’s lair and his heart skipped a beat. He went closer to remove some of the soil and saw that it was indeed a dragon’s egg. With a heavy heart he placed it in his bag and made his way back to the town.

There, the people had been told of his coming and was waiting for him to return. They cheered and clapped their hands when they saw his clothes stained with the blood of the dragon. “You’ve saved us,” one of the woman said, bowing low to him as if he was some great lord.

He wanted to ignore her. He had killed a wonderful animal, but they would not understand. They had never talked to the dragons like he had. They had only ever witnessed the destruction caused by the dragons that had gone wild, seeking revenge and losing themselves in shadow. He kept the egg a secret. The only thing that would redeem him from his act of killing that day would be to deliver the egg to the Guardians for safekeeping.

***