The Fyrdhwæt Saga
An epic tale of fantasy adventure
told in verse
by
Patrisha Reece-Davies
Published by Books from The Village at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Patrisha Reece-Davies
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Foreward:
The collection of verses here, The Fyrdhwæt Saga, tells the tale of the warrior Fyrdhwæt [his name meaning brave or warlike] who slays three terrible monsters to save his people.
In the first set of verses, Fyrdhwæt, The Identity Stealer, the verses tell that he is a character of such overwhelming self-assertion that his mother who bore him and all of his friends, his family and his wife find that, in his presence, their sense of self and identity become thwarted and sucked away. He is one of those bullish characters who makes you forget who you are, what you think and what you believe because he asserts his own thoughts and ideas so strongly. This character trait, in the end, becomes belittling and can even be distressing - leading the 'victims' to avoid being in the company of the protagonist. Every aspect of Fyrdhwæt's personality seems only able to grow and develop by his stealing or overpowering the integrity of others. Thus we see that none can support him or nurture him, people turn away and he is left alone. Thus Fyrdhwæt is both powerful and lonely, self-confident and a little sad.
In the second set of verses Bealltain and then The Silken Tretraw (who turned the world to stone) we are introduced to the first of the monsters, the Tretraw. It is a beast which arrives at the beginning of spring, during the spring festival procession, and it commences to eat up all the trees and green growth, positing stones and rock in the place of sacred woods and agriculture. Naturally the people begin to starve and would have died out (apathy seems prevalent) if it weren't for one small, lone voice who manages to call upon Fyrdhwæt. The sun won't shine so Fyrdhwæt slays the monster in the dark, alone and unrecognised.
In the third set of verses Alban Heruin and The Thirsty Higghorþ (a chimaera who drank up the oxygen) we meet the second monster - a chimaera or mixture of beasts such as the Greek original which had a lion's head and dragon's tail. This, the Thirsty Higghorþ [pronounced High-hoarth . . . with a silent 'p' before the 'th' if you can manage it] makes its living by drinking all the oxygen and goodness from the air. Again the people come close to death as they do not recognise the harm the monster is doing until it is nearly too late. Once again a small, lone voice manages to call our hero Fyrdhwæt. Again the sun won't shine on the battle so our hero struggles in the icy, thinned air until he has slain the monster and saved the people. Again his work goes unnoticed and he is left alone, his great deeds remain un-acclaimed.
In the final set of verses (as it stands) Samhain and The Miserable Maghmaugh [pron: maw-maw] we witness our hero as he slays his third and final monster, a dwimor or ghost which dries out all the water supplies and sacred wells by turning the waters to rosin. This time the battle is fought at night - but the moon won't shine so Fyrdhwæt does his unsung act alone, in the dark once more.
Notes on the Anglo-Saxon:
I have carefully researched and chosen the Anglo-Saxon phrases and lines which I have used throughout this piece for three reasons; 1) because I felt like it, 2) because I feel that it lends the piece a sense of antiquity and the feel of the kind of saga it sets out to be, and 3) because the original verses about Fyrdhwæt were written about a real person, a dear person, a real hero and someone who is really suited to and represented by these token insets.
I do not claim to be a scholar of the Anglo-Saxon language, my Ph.D is law not language. However, I like it, I am intrigued by it, I have enjoyed this interaction with it. I will always be happy to hear from lingual experts if they have anything to say - otherwise I claim poet's licence. ENJOY - Patrisha:
Fyrdhwæt - The Identity Stealer
He arrived in a flurry of soft faun feathers
gecnawan he friþ, bliss, meolc, breost ge bræŏ
and right away she who bore him was lost to him herself
and all the way they who saw him lost none to him themselves
and all the way they who heard him
ran not
to quench his whim to quiet him
ran not
to soothe his skin to dry him
ran not
to break his fast to grow him
so he learned to take - time, his time, the time, a time.
He grew on, the run from hither to thither
gecnawan he eorþe , broc, mægþ, mete ge hælŏ
and all the way she who bore him was lost to him herself
and all the way they who saw him gave none to him themselves
and all the way they who heard him
ran not
to hold his hand to guide him
ran not
to softly speak to teach him
ran not
to shape a world to befit him
so he learned to take - truth, his truth, un-truth, a truth.