By Aeden o Kincora
Many tales are told of
the young hero Ealdormere, but the strangest tale told is the tale of her
birth; for they say that she did not come to be in the usual way, but that this
was the way of it:
The wise and mighty of
the land desired to draw together the people, to make their land strong and
glorious. For this they needed a hero, yet none was in evidence, and the omens
foretold none to be soon born. Thus they resolved to create their own.
They drew her spirit
and flesh from the land itself, from its wide skies and waters, from its
forests and fields, and from its hard, enduring stone and soft, fertile earth.
Each woman and man of them gave of their own strength, and at length a perfect
infant lay before them.
All the people were
called to her naming, and from the highest lord to the lowest churl they came.
Not only the people, but also the hare, the wolf, and the bear came to
represent the beasts of field and forest. Then each gave a gift that suited
their means. The hare gave her cunning and fleetness of foot, the wolf gave his
unstinting loyalty, and the bear gave his slow wisdom and great strength.
But while the people
rejoiced, the first of the Three who sit by the well and work the loom of the
World called to her sisters, saying, "Look, here is a hank laid ready for
spinning that I never carded. Someone is joggling our elbows." Then they
grew angry, and cast about for the mischiefmaker.
At length they noticed
the people celebrating, and marked the newborn babe. The youngest of the Three
said, "Here are those who would make themselves our equals. Sisters, let
us teach them a lesson. I see that they are giving gifts. Let us each give a
gift also, and gifts that they shall rue."
Thus it came about
that Ealdormere received three bright gifts and three dark gifts all on the
same day.
The first bright gift
that the wise and mighty gave was a good mind and a steady hand, that she might
be a great artisan; the first dark gift that the Three gave was this: Though
she might create great wonders, yet nothing she did would outlast her.
The second gift was a
strong back and a keen eye, that she might be a great archer; the second dark
gift the Three gave was this: However true her shafts might fly, they would
never diminish the number of her enemies.
The third gift the
wise and mighty gave was a glad heart and a generous hand, that she might
always have friends; the last and bitterest dark gift was this: Though she
might have a multitude of friends, yet none would stand by her in her hour of
extremity.
This is the tale of
her birth and many more are told of her youth; how when she could barely walk
she had grown too large for any house, and that while still a maid she had
followed her King to war and done valiant deeds.
They tell how her
people loved her, for she was not haughty, but noble and worshipful; and her
honour was bright like a mirror, wherein they saw their own honour reflected
bright.
Of her end no one
knows the true tale, but only that on a day in that season when the hint of
Spring first raises hopes and the fast following frost dashes them, word came
from the king that Ealdormere was no more.
Some say that in her
youthful rashness, she sounded her challenge before the gates of the bright
gods themselves and was cast down in ruin; but one among the gods took pity on
her brave heart and her beauty and raised her to the heavens. They say that on
a winter night, when the clear sky brings biting frost, you can see her high in
the southern sky, her sword at her side, guarding the borders of the land that
she loves.
Others say that she
was not slain at all, but laid under an enchantment of sleep, wherein she does
not age, and at their hour of greatest need she shall awake and lead her
people.
However true these
tales may be we cannot know, but we do know that one thing is true. Before
Ealdormere left, she drew forth her secret heart, and breaking it into a
multitude of pieces, she gave a bit to each of her people to safeguard. And
whenever a person is moved to speak of Ealdormere, and whenever the listeners
are moved by what they hear, it is one piece of her secret heart that speaks,
and the others listen.
(Copyright M. Jenne
1991)
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