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The Lay of Maranwe
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Tales and Fables Once upon a time, long ago,
enfurled in a land in which did flow
rivers of enormous size,
through great wolds and over the rise
of a cliff, grand and mystique,
on a mountain of which whose peak
looked out over the cold, cold sea
the mistress of sailors, the love of the free.
The sea! The sea! Oh, the sea.
Twas the sea that called Maranwe
to his wrack so long ago
when the sea swelled with melted snow.
He was born of the eldest son
of kingly sires who one-by-one
had met the sea and so did yearn
for it, waiving the sun's bright burn
and descended into the shadowy deep
never to rise, forever to sleep.
Doom, his father tried to avoid
for the sake of the son in which he enjoyed,
but strong was the blood that ran through his vein
and quick was he to find his own bane
at the cold hands of the death-thirsty sea,
never to rise, nevermore to be free.
Maranwe's bold life began that day
that his father died, and he was sped away
deep into the wold, far from the sea,
so that the bale of his forefathers may not be
his weird, and his mother bade
him loath the sea, upon which was laid
the curse of his fathers and of his kin,
and to love no more the mortal men -
men who were easily swayed by the sea
until they should die, no more to be.
He was then placed into an elf's care
until the house he no longer could share,
and so ran away into deep shaws,
away from men and his mother's laws.
A great hunter he soon came to be,
under no law, forever free,
until the day he found his weird
in an old man with a gray beard
who stood in the way
on the dawn of that fateful day.
A teacher the man claimed to be
and taught Maranwe sigaldry
of fiery magic with weildy blade
and when they were finished, he again bade
Maranwe to reject the sea
that the bane of his fathers may not be
the weird of a hero so noble and blest
but Maranwe grew wrathful and lay down to rest
the old man who had once been his friend
but the old man, while trying to fend
him off cried “Beware the sea my friend!
For the sea mews lonely cry can rend
a man to long for the sea's dark gray
to find his weird and prove him fey.”
But Maranwe did not heed his words
and under the sight of carrion birds
slew his friend and mentor true
but fearing the wrath of the gods, he flew.
On waking again he was alone
and running away, his face shone
with the sheen of one already fey
so his doom was full-sealed that day.
After untold travail, and finally ruth,
Maranwe decided to live forsooth
and bated by the cold freshets and frith
chose to rid the world of the myth
of the resident naiad who lived in the river.
So taking up his sword, bow, and quiver,
he went to find her, to clear his name
and possibly take from him the bane
of his forefathers, now almost forgotten
dead on the sea floor, blind and rotten.
But the nymph was know for creating bliss
and in the men stirred wantonness
and by keeping their attention all day
their farms had all faded away.
So on went Maranwe to trap the poor girl,
first to capture, then to hurl
her out of the shaw, to trouble no more
the farmers and peasants who lived by the shore
of her cool river which led out to the sea,
and then perhaps he would be free
of the bane of his house and the dirt of his name.
For his name ever brought to him shame
for 'Maranwe' means destiny in elvish they say,
and so he looked for her day after day,
to change his weird and live in bliss
and never again his name would miss.
He sought her through forest and fountain, glade and glen,
until he finally found her, but then
he stayed his hand and was entranced
by this beautiful nymph who danced
upon the green shore of her river home
far from the cold sea's frothy foam.
And while he stared, he caught her eye,
and her eyes appeared bluer than the bluest sky,
deeper than the ocean floor,
more precious to him than a diamond's core.
But away she swam, with him in pursuit
till they came to the river's root
and then he stopped and cried to her
for like a fish, he had taken the lure.
She then looked back at the haggard man,
then into the forest she quickly ran
but the forest was Maranwe's home
the place where he always loved to roam.
After two days, she began to tire
and deep within her kindled a fire
for this man, so brave and wild
this incarnation of forest child.
And so she turned and welcomed him
the only child of mortal men
who had gained her love, though wild and fey,
her heart, he had finally captured that day.
And so they lived long, through sorrow and bliss
until the sea claimed her, and then her he did miss
and followed to the edge of that sea
wishing that with her he would again be.
Walking the shore, looking out towards the sea
he was met by a very strange company
of men, and the friend who he killed long ago
ethereal spirits, alive but lo!
Maranwe's old friend had turned his head
and looking straight at him, he said,
“Beware, beware of the sea my friend!
For the sea mews lonely cry can rend
a man to long for the sea's dark gray
to find his weird and prove himself fey.
For these, my friends who surround me yet
were once kings of old, men who let
their desires fall to the cold, cold sea,
never to die, nevermore free.'
“Your forefathers these are, who I warned long ago,
I gave them each good counsel but lo!
They did not listen, and they became fey
when they ignored my counsel the very first day.”
And Maranwe foreseeing his doom draw near,
ran from that place in bloodcurdling fear
that his doom may yet be completed that day
and that his life would soon fade away.
So he ran up the shore, back to the stream
but coming upon it, he saw a small gleam
and turning to see from whence it came
saw only the spirit of that once-loved dame
and crying aloud, he wept bitter tears
and afraid of the drawing of his years
to a close, he ran back to the sea
as if able to confront his enemy,
but all he found was the calm sea and shore,
the ethereal spirits he saw no more.
For years after he lived by the sea
for in his heart he never was free
from the love of the nymph, whom he had loved dear
and filled with this love, he set away fear
and constructed a plan to sail the cold sea
to find his maid, and set her free
from the death-enveloping sea
and nevermore a thrall would she be.
But at the shore awaited his fate,
for although in his life it came late,
doom overcomes all that it calls,
and it caught Maranwe at the falls
of the great rivers that empty into the sea
at the edge of the lands of the free.
For as he approached, he heard the crying mews
and the battle of fate he knew he would lose
but nevertheless to the sea he went out
and stepping onto the shore with a shout
he cried “The sea! The sea! Oh the sea,
know that you do not own my destiny.
For I have lived long years without count
with the woman I loved, and at her fount
I lived like no man ever lived before,
and now gladly I come unto death's door.”
Then forsaking his life, and the sun's bright burn
to find his love for which he did yearn,
he descended into the shadowy deep
never to rise, forever to sleep.
