The Saga of Wren

By  L.A. Hood

Art by Maxine Colby

In the twilight of forgotten time
There lived a boy named Wren.
Soft-spoken ways and agile wits
Taught him more than his friends.
He knew his charms and the chants
The Waelkyries of old would say.
Listening to Woden's voice
Wren never lost his way.
In matters of the heart and mind
The boy was most astute,
Earning silver pennies playing
Songs upon his flute.
His tunes were loved by all who lived
Around him far and near,
But many turned their gaze from him
As though his eyes they feared.
“The Wyrding ways!” he'd hear them say
As he passed by their door,
And realizing their fear of him
He passed their way no more.
Now on a time it chanced that Wren
Was passing through the woods,
Playing softly on his flute
Of Weland's feud in blood,
When in the path he walked that day
Lay a struggling baby bird
Crying weakly for its mother,
Cries long left unheard.
Listening, he searched the ground
Until he saw the chick,
And gently cradled the newborn bird
He'd found among the thicket.
But mother's beak was gone away
Beyond the baby's cry
And as he watched the chick's life fade
His heart could only sigh.
Wondering of the mother's path
Wren yielded to this fate.
He questioned nature and her ways
As death now made him wait.
For as he held the chick's frail life
It faded from this earth,
Leaving Wren to wonder why
It ever had a birth.
The lesson was a brief one, and
The boy perceived it not.
The Norns of fate had chosen him.
He blindly cast his lot.

Two

But time moves on, as does this tale.
The youngster quickly grew.
A tall man, he moved as though
A spirit passing through.
As he became a hunter skilled
In tracking and the chase
He wandered through the hills alone,
Sometimes for many days.
In solitude he found a friend
That seemed to suit his hand.
His flute was heard in haunting tunes
That passed through forest lands.
Often heard in gloom of night
Or at the break of dawn,
The music floated on the winds
Like echoes from beyond.
Now on a time this wanderer came
Upon a flowing stream.
While listening to the water's song
He heard a distant scream.
On surest foot with cunning stealth
Wren moved toward the sound,
And in a flat of open trees
His searching eyes soon found
An open glade of flowing grass
As tall as waving wheat.
The autumn moon cast light upon
Strange travelers in retreat,
Fair-haired strangers giving ground
Against a massive bear
That towered above them grim and tall
With long and shaggy hair.
He watched the men in strange attire
As their defense gave way.
They fought a valiant, lightning game,
Yet this was their last day,
For each man fought as the one before
And each man died in vain.
Whatever reason brought them here
Failed now in death and pain.
The bear was ruthless in his rage,
Tearing each torso and limb
Until he came to the very last
Who stood there cold and grim.
Their eyes met once and then the beast
Raised up his blood-stained paw,
Revealing death to the warrior's eyes
That faced those savage claws.

Three

Yet in the moment that he had
He thrust his patterned blade
Into the belly of the beast,
Who roared with pain and rage.
The crashing paw dispatched the man
That traded blood for blood,
But did not relieve the serpentine blade
That washed him in anguished floods.
The beast rose up and slashed the trees
Then grabbed the sword by snout.
In maddening pain he swiftly jerked
The craft of Weland out.
A swing to the head freed the sword,
Which fell upon the grass,
And then the bear in haunting pain
Fell himself and thrashed.
Yet, though it seemed the last, the bear
Regained his feet once more
And lumbered to the spot where first
The fight had been most sore.
Now once again Wren heard the scream
That brought him quickly there.
In that instant re realized
It was a maiden fair.
There was no doubt or pause this time
Or time to hesitate.
He'd seen the cost that would be paid
If he had moved too late.
Wren cleared the trees and called the bear
As loud as he could scream.
The bear turned in his blood and wrath,
His eyes in moonlight gleamed.
He charged for Wren in surly gait,
Moving as a mountain blast.
Wren notched an arrow in his bow,
Grounding himself steadfast.
The beast moved closer, straight ahead;
He quickly closed the gap.
Wren held the bowstring patiently,
Then let the arrow snap.
It traveled fast in blinding speed
And as the bear raised his head
It pierced his eye, passed through the brain,
Opening skull in blood and shreds.
The bear was dead; force kept the charge,
Delivering such a blow
That it knocked Wren off his feet and out.
For a time, it was all he knew.

Four

Out of the blackness, into the light.
The wanderer opened his eyes.
He found himself alive once more,
Much to his stunned surprise.
Now poised above his head he saw
A vision of loveliness.
His head was resting in her lap,
His brow her hand caressed.
Her hair fell long and raven black
With ebony eyes as dark,
Her skin was a brilliant amber hue,
Yet smooth as silk, unmarred.
He lay in silence as she spoke
In voice like early rain's mist.
She asked him, “Are you all right, sir?”
And he lay there bewitched.
He did not answer right away
But gazed into her eyes.
Behind her question he could feel
A sadness in her guise.
He raised himself upright and took
Her gentle hand in his,
And as they talked he learned her name
And of her wretchedness.
“Fair maiden, may I have your name?
My given name is Wren.
I traveled through these ancient woods
To see a chikldhood friend.
Now if you will give me your name
And tell me of your quest,
I promise now to see you there
No matter what the test.”
At this the girl began to cry
And tears ran down her cheeks
For now she looked around and saw
The havoc death might reek.
“We came from Silverdale the Fair
To the dwarvish cliffs beyond,
To seal the fate of kingdoms,
Strengthening our bonds.
The bride I am of Silverdale,
Their hope in this wilderness.
My given name is Laurelin,
A child of loneliness.”
“Oh, now,” spoke Wren, “I cannot see
That you must face this test.
And I count this unworthy soul
To look at you most blessed.”

Five

The maiden gave a sigh at last
That stilled the summer breeze,
And Wren read nights of emptiness
That he knew none could ease.
She gazed at him and kissed him once
Then squeezed his woodland hand.
“I hope for nothing in this life,
For my life has been planned.”
“But how can you surrender thus?”
Asked Wren, stunned and perplexed.
“How can you let blind fate decide
The turn your life makes next?”
Sad Laurelin smiled through her tears
And answered fey and true.
“For the life of our two lands
It's all that I can do!”
“But run away and flee!” said Wren.
“Go live your life in peace.
My lips are closed to where you've gone
Though searches long have ceased.”
But princess of a royal house
And loyal in her heart,
Sad Laurelin could not forget
The lives that would depart
By sword and fire, spear and shield
Many souls would know
The torture of the dungeons deep
And meet the gallows pole.
For want of ties to these two lands
To hold the sword of war
She must now go to wed the prince
Upon the cliffs afar.
So in her solemn voice of tears
She told her life to him,
And he in melancholy mood
Surrendered to her then.
He vowed to be her champion,
Her servant in this quest,
Guiding her in this grim fate,
Honoring her request.
“Between all harm and you I stand,
If it should ever come.
Though war and battle raise their head
All wrath I'll save you from.
And though the time might come
That you take your final breath,
I'll stand before you in that hour
And stay the hand of death.”

Six

So off they journeyed in their search
For a wedding on far shores,
And came to cliffsides large and small,
The kingdom of the dwarfs.
Now when they reached the king's abode
The trumpets sounded out.
The bridge was lowered over the moat
And many were heard to shout
“All hail to Cliffside's halls.
Hail to fair Silverdale's vale.
Hail to kingdoms of elf and dwarf!
May those bonds never falter or fail!”
In stepped sylphine Laurelin,
So tall and proud and lithe,
And following at half a pace,
Young Wren came like a wraith.
As they marched the halls of stone
The princess warned him, “Beware!
The king of dwarfs is wary of men
And his love for them is rare.
For many years he's lost his land
To the spreading host of men.
He hopes to crush the inflow soon
And seize his lands again.”
“But that,” said Wren, “is not truth!
For men have lived there long.
No dwarf's touched the Rolling Hills.
This king has named us wrong.”
“If this be true,” she whispered,
So only Wren could hear,
“then all my kin will be dismayed,
For they have lived in fear
Of losing land to marauding men,
So we made a pact with the dwarfs
To marry our lands into one domain
And defend our threatened borders.”
“But we were there first, then came dwarfs.
Our lands were not o'erthrown.
I cannot believe,” he whispered back,
‘that the elves would not have known.”
Now fair Laurelin's piercing eyes
Met Wren's at the hall of the king.
Her searching gaze went to his heart,
The core of his own being.
And when she knew he told the truth
She knew she must tell him herself.
“The pact is signed,” she answered,
“For my father's king of the elfs.”

Seven

Wren stood in silence; words fled away;
He had no time to believe.
But the elfin maiden spoke once again
Before they were given to grief.
“This news must be heard in Silverdale
And the treachery be made known.
Ingwas, my father, who rules the elfs
Will believe you if you show this stone.”
She held a diamond. Wren refused it.
“I would not leave your side.
I'd rather see death in dolven halls
Than give you up this night.”
And then a clamoring boisterous noise
Rose throughout the walls.
Wren and the princess stood their ground
Dreading the source of that call.
In stepped Dvalin, the master of dwarfs
And in stepped the prince by his side.
They smiled at the princess, glared at the man,
For the sight tore at their pride.
“Good welcome, sweet elf!” said the king,
“Good welcome to Blue Mountain 's throne.
I see you've come with the lowest of life,
Such thieves as have stolen our home.
I wouldn't for all I own in this world
Be seen with the likes of this man.
He's haggard and wretched, mannerless too,
For as we abide he still stands.”
Wren bowed his knee without further delay.
“I beg indulgence, Dvalin the Great,
Being unsure of Blue Mountain ways.”
And he looked to the king for his fate.
The king was assuaged for the moment,
But the prince wore his hate with a frown.
He'd been tutored in haughtier ways
From a father who shouldered the crown.
He stepped forward and struck him in haste.
The blow would have felled lesser men,
But Wren caught himself, tempered the blow,
Stood over the prince in the end.
The prince shrank back in fear and regret,
For he was a coward at heart.
But he always moved to his father's whims
Like a puppet that plays out its part.
Once more Wren checked himself and bowed;
He knew the odds of this game.
His life would be forfeit did he raise
A hand to the heir, or the name.

Eight

Seeing such valor from one of the wood
The dwarf king was stirred in his wrath.
The hate of all men now purposed the night
That this one see nothing but death.
Quickly moving herself to Wren's side
And offering her body as shield,
She proclaimed, “If  there's trouble, my lord,
Let them do to me as they will!”
Wren drew a breath at the sound of this
Stepping forward tohonor his vow.
“No, lady! I tell you to stand behind me,
For harm shall not come to you now!”
Dvalin commanded the guards to restrain
“the basest of creatures, this man!”
Give her to the dungeons, him to the sword
Until the Norns smile on my hand.”
The Norns of Fate smile on whom they will;
The dwarf king soon found this out.
Wren was swifter than all the king's guard
And his movements were never in doubt.
His mastery of blade and stealth of his kin
Gave the king's guard many slits.
But try as he might with mastery of sword,
The princess and he were soon split.
“To my kingdom!” she called. “To Silverdale!
Escape now, and let my kin know!”
Though heavy of heart, Wren knew it was true
And grudgingly turned to go.
“I will return, fair Laurelin,
With an army arrayed to fight.
I search for Silverdale's fair land,
Not resting by day or by night!”
He turned; the prince and guard barred the way.
They stopped him from gaining the gate,
And try as he might to win the outside
The warriors held him in checkmate.
They fought before the coward they served,
And none durst endanger the prince.
But one soldier stood with long lance in hand
Searching for a weakened defense.
He hefted his spear and threw with great force,
A lance meant to skewer young Wren.
But silence prevailed as a groan left his lips
By which Wren sensed a shaft sent.
With quickness and skill given by fate
Wren rolled on his back to the floor.
The shaft, now misplaced, continued its way
And passed through the prince to the door.

 
 
Nine

 
 
Now who can say, when life plays its hand,
What miseries will be dealt out?
How can we evade the skein set for us
That the Norns have threaded, drawn out?
The prince hung like meat. The guard were aghast.
Dvalin stood frozen like stone.
Wren seized the moment to make his escape;
In silence and stealth he was gone.
He slid past the gate to the forest beyond
And no one could follow his trail;
He moved through forest as though he were not;
Vengeance fueled his will not to fail.
But after this the anger and pain
Of the dwarf king could not be assuaged.
When he came to himself from mental distress
The loss brought on violent rage.
Striking Laurelin with such a blow
It left her unconscious and bruised,
He ordered the guards to take her below
To a dungeon with shackles for shoes.
So there she was taken and placed in a cell
With chains on her ankles and wrists.
Soon after, she woke to darkness around,
Elfin eyes blurred by weakness and mist.
The pain of the day with Dvalin's wrath
Had taken its toll upon her.
She knew not how long her will to survive
Could muster the strength to endure.
But endure she did, and hope kept her strong,
For his promise she held in her heart.
And in that same hour in the depths of that pit
The seed of her love got its start.
He said, “I return!” and she held onto that.
Her spirit fed on his vow.
And love filled her heart for this strange man,
A love she'd not known until now.
“Though death come to call and I am no more,
My love for him ever remains.
Through time and the ages I wait for him
Until he and I meet again.”
Said from the heart, it was truer than life,
Yet living and life have their twists.
Of one coming on, and the other one going
Paths may interface and exist.
But when trouble comes and we battle ourselves
To conquer our own nemesis,
The path of our life may pass all else by,
And our goal in this life may be missed.

Ten

And so came the war, a long, bloody affair
That lost more than side against side.
Many a dwarf, along with the elves
And men in their prime swiftly died.
The elves came to war with longknife and bow
And fought with the cunning of the fox.
Men came as well with serpentine broadsword
With sinew and bone as the ox.
But the dwarfs were determined, fought with pride
Bound in their hauberk of mail.
They hefted the mace and axe of their trade,
Promising their king not to fail.
The battle was joined and good fell with bad
In bloodshed costly and dear.
The dwarfs held their own and bowed to no man
Because they knew nothing of fear.
They took many heads and pierced many hearts,
Laughing as the melee drew on.
The age-old heart of a bloodthirsty dwarf
Could face many war-weary dawns.
Yet one stood his ground, never yielding the field
And he fought as a madman possessed.
He felled many warriors, unwearied by time,
That none in the battle could best.
In the heat of the battle his sword was aflame
Fueled by rage that grew hot.
The warrior was driven by more than himself;
Love and fate once again cast his lot.
This soldier was Wren, who found Silverdale
And brought back an army of elfs.
He fought for Laurelin beyond his skill
With no thought for expending himself.
The elfs rallied to him,.the men followed suit.
They bore as a javelin to heart.
The dwarfs, though heroic, yielded the way
And force of charge broke them apart.
Falling from ranks, they fled to the castle,
Which only yielded up death.
For elfs and men chanted for Laurelin
With each stroke and each breath.
Then Wren caught a young dwarf and questioned him
Of the princess and where she might be.
And soon he discovered in dungeons below
What he'd hoped he would not have to see.
There they felled two at the door
For they were but fodder to him,
Yet the task of the door yielding to key
Brought a world that Wren found was grim.

Eleven

He entered the cell, seeing Laurelin there
In shackles against the far wall.
But only a step had he taken when
He felt tempered steel on him fall.
Dvalin severed his right collarbone
And Wren took no time to think.
His left arm swung his serpentine blade
Before the dwarf could have blinked.
Both now fell, but one without head.
For Dvalin, Time rang its death-knell.
Wren crawled to Laurelin, lying in chains,
Once again falling under her spell.
But he held her now and she opened her eyes
Smiling a faint loving smile.
“Farewell, now, my heart,” she whispered to him
“In our love there only seems guile.”
Wren held her close, his heart breaking within.
“Nay! Princess, I give you no leave.
I hold you to this world till death come to call.
I will barter with him in this grief.”
“It is but a moment before we part,”
She said.  “Please hold me once more,
For I feel the coldness closing on me
And I see Death enter the door.”
Death moved to Dvalin's headless body,
Bending to touch the chest.
Then suddenly a wail was heard
That chilled Wren to the breast.
It desperate straits Wren rose to stand.
He faced the specter's way.
And though he saw but a shadow there
He begged Death his hand to stay.
“Yea, I have hailed a long swathe this day,”
Death said, “and my work is not free.
A weregild I charge for the price of a soul,
A price that must equal the fee.”
“Alas, poor Wren,” Laurelin sighed.
“You deal with Death too late.
But kiss me once before I pass
Beyond the Nethergate.”
“Nay, Laurelin, I cannot let you go,
Though gladly the kiss I will give.
But this I swear by heart and soul,
It is you, not I, that will live.”
With that he kissed her elfin lips
In a moment of long farewell.
Then he stood and turned the specter's way,
Reached out, faltered, and fell.

Twelve

Slowly Death drew closer now
To draw her strand of life.
But another spirit blocked his path
Contending with Death in strife.
In that struggle the elfmaid witnessed
One specter fade in the dark,
And another spirit take the mantle of Death,
Ominous, lonely and stark.
He stood tall and distant in shadows bleak,
But he turned not his face upon her.
To the door he turned, but she cried out,
Her love needing his all the more.
“Come back, lonely spirit! To me now, my love!
Turn back to the one who loves you!
Return to a heart you have conquered and won,
A heart that will ever be true!”
But stop as he did, he answered her, “Nay.
I cannot come back to you now.
I gave Death my life and my service to him
In exchange for your life and my vow.”
“Then come take me with you to that world beyond.
Don't leave me alone in this world.
To survive it without your love in this life
Is a burden unbearably cruel.”
“I can not,” he said in a distant low voice.
“Your spirit is beyond this price.
And though I may love you much more than life,
Our memories must now suffice.”
At this she lay lost, shedding many tears,
For in this life their love could not be.
But she looked up in hope with a question for him.
“Tell me, will you some day come for me?”
At first there was silence more solemn than death,
Then the answer came hollow and fey.
“Perhaps, but not soon in the future, it seems.
Our meeting will bring a new age.”
Having spoken this last word he moved to the door,
Fading the farther he went,
Until he was gone in the cold and the mist.
To others' demise he was sent.
Now came a solitary life
With lonely hopeful dreams
That she could not give to another in love,
For just one love she looked to redeem.
And then one night, as age ran to age
A shadow appeared by her bed.
Her spirit reached out, lost love returned,
And she left aside all this world's dread.

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