by Alan Garner
As the sun began to peep over the hills, Assipattle hoisted his sail and steered for the head of the Stoorworm. The monster lay before him like an exceedingly big and high mountain, and the eyes of the monster – some say he had but one eye – glowed and flamed like a ward fire. It was a sight that might well have terrified the bravest heart. The monster’s length stretched half across the world. His awful tongue was hundreds on hundreds of miles long, and with it, when he was angry, he would sweep whole towns, trees and hills into the sea. His terrible tongue was forked. And the prongs of the fork he used as a pair of tongs to seize his prey. With that fork he would crush the largest ship. With that fork he would crack the walls of the biggest castle. But Assipattle had no fear.
By this time the king and all his men-folk came to the shore. They saw the boat, and the king knew it to be his boat, and he was in great wrath.
Assipattle sailed up to the side of the Stoorworm’s head; then he took down his sail and lay quietly on his oars, thinking his own thoughts.
When the sun struck the Stoorworm’s eyes, then he gave a hideous yawn – the first of the seven before his grim breakfast. There was a while between each yawn; and you must know it took him a good while to yawn.
Now, whenever the Stoorworm yawned, a tide of water rushed into his mouth. Assipattle rowed close to the lip of the Stoorworm; and at the second yawn the boat was caught on the in-rushing tide and swept into the monster’s mouth. But she did not stay there; for the tide carried her down the black throat that gaped like a bottomless pit. You may think it was very dark for Assipattle; but no; the roof and the sides of the throat were covered with sea foam, that gave a soft and silvery light in the dismal place.
On and on, down and down, went Assipattle, for a long length of a way. (Take a care of us all! But so might I thrive, as I should not like to go down such a stair!) He steered his boat in mid-stream; and as he went, the water became more shallow, by reason of the many passages that opened on each side of the throat, like the mouths of caves. A part of the water went through these passages. Now the roof of the throat began to get lower, till the boat’s mast stuck its end in the roof, and her keel stuck on the bottom of the throat.
Then Assipattle jumped out; and, pot in hand, waded and ran, and better ran, till he came to the Stoorworm’s liver. Then he took his gully and cut a hole in the liver, and placed the live peat in the hole. And if he did not blow on the burning peat, he did nothing. He blew till he thought his lips would crack. And the peat began to flame; the flame caught the oil of the liver, and in a minute there was a stately blaze. (Yes; I think it gave the Stoorworm a hot harskit!) Then Assipattle ran back to the boat.
When the Stoorworm felt the heat of the fire at his inside, he began to spew as if he would have brought up the bottom of his bowels, and there arose from the huge stomach terrible floods. One of these floods caught the boat, snapped the mast and flung boat and man high on the land.
The king and the people drew back to a hill, where they were safe from the floods sent out by the monster, and from its fearful rifts of fire and smoke. And everyone who saw the Stoorworm could only say, “What am I born to see!”
After the floods of water, there came from the Stoorworm’s mouth and nose great clouds of smoke as the fire grew within him. He flung out his tongue and waved it to and fro. Then he flung up his tongue till its end struck the moon. He gripped one of the moon’s horns; some say he shifted it; but by good luck the fork slipped over the horn, otherwise he might have brought down the moon. The tongue fell on earth with a mighty travellye, so that it clove the earth, and made a long length of a sea where once was dry land. That is the sea that now divides Denmark from Swedeland and Narroway. They say that at the head of that sea are two great bays, formed by the two prongs of the fork on the Stoorworm’s tongue.
Then the Stoorworm drew in his long tongue; and his struggles and twisting were a world’s terror to behold. He drew himself together in a lump; and, as he did so, the fiery pain made him toss up his head to the clouds, from where it would drop again to the sea. Once, as his head fell, the force of the fall knocked out some teeth, and these teeth became the Orkney Islands. Another time his head rose and fell, and these teeth became the Shetland Islands. A third time his head fell from the sky, and these teeth became the Faroe Islands. Then the Stoorworm coiled his lump into a greater lump; and that lump became Iceland. And so the Mester Stoorworm died.
The Stoorworm died; but he still burns under the island. And the fire of that burning makes the burning mountains there.
And now I must tell you how it went with Assipattle.
The king took him in his arms, and kissed him, and blessed him, and called him his son. The king took off his own mantle and put it on him. And the king took the hand of Gemdelovely and put it in Assipattle’s hand. And he girded the sword Sickersnapper on Assipattle. Assipattle mounted Teetgong, and rode by Gemdelovely’s side.
As they all rode in joy for the king’s house, Assipattle’s sister came running to meet them. She whispered in Gemdelovely’s ear, and Gemdelovely told the king what she said. Then the king’s face grew dark and dour; for she told him that the sorcerer had been courting the queen all morning.
“I’ll go and kill him,” said the king.
“No,” said Assipattle’s sister, “they have both fled on the two best horses in the stable.”
“They’ll ride fast if I don’t find them,” said Assipattle; and with that he out with the goose throttle and blew with all his might, and off like the wind went Teetgong.
Assipattle soon came in sight of the sorcerer and the queen, and the sorcerer said, “It’s only some halflin brat. I’ll cut off his head in a minute. So he turned, and drew his sword; for he knew well that no common steel could pierce his enchanted body.
Assipattle drew Sickersnapper; and with one thrust he sent the sword through the sorcerer’s heart till its point came out at his back, and his blood ran on the ground, black as pitch. The queen was shut up all her days in a high tower.
Assipattle and Gemdelovely were married, and there was a wedding feast that lasted nine weeks. The king’s harper made a long rhyme; and the Menyesingers sang a beautiful song. I do not know the words of the song, but this was the burden:
“The bonniest stone in all the land
Is above the king’s hall door.
It came out of a filthy hole,
Where it lay long before.”
At that wedding all went jolly as Yule. Assipattle and Gemdelovely were king and queen, and lived in joy and splendour. And, if they are not dead, they are living yet.
Here is another Black Dog, again in the words of the man who told it.
ell, you see, I’d been tending to the clock at Grassington, and I’d stayed rather late, and maybe had a little sup of spirit, but I was far from being drunk, and I knew everything that passed. It was about eleven o’clock at night when I left, and it was at the back end of the year; and it was a grand night. The moon was very bright, and I’ve never seen Rylston Fell plainer in all my life.
“Now, you see, I was passing down the mill lane, and I heard something come past me, brush, brush, brush, with chains rattling all the while; but I saw nothing; and I thought to myself, Now this is a most mortal queer thing. And I then stood still, and looked about me, but I saw nothing at all, only the two stone walls on each side of the mill lane.
“Then I heard again this brush, brush, brush, with the chains; for, you see, when I stood still it stopped; and then I thought, This must be a Barguest, that so much is said about; and I hurried on towards the wood bridge, for they say as how this Barguest can’t cross a water. But when I got over the bridge, I heard this same thing again, so it would either have crossed the water, or gone round thirty miles by the spring head!
“And then I became a valiant man, for I was a bit frightened before, and I think, I’ll turn and have a peep at this thing. So I went up Great Bank towards Linton, and heard this brush, brush, brush, with the chains
, all the way, but I saw nothing. Then it stopped all of a sudden.
“So I turned back to go home, but I’d hardly reached the door when I heard again this brush, brush, brush, and the chains, going down towards the Holin House, and I followed it, and the moon then shone very bright, and I saw its tail!
“Then, thought I, you old thing! I can say I’ve seen you now, so I’ll away home.
“When I got to the door, there was a great thing like a sheep, but it was bigger, lying across the threshold of the door, and it was woolly like.
“And, says I, ‘Get up,’ and it wouldn’t get up. Then, says I, ‘Stir yourself!’ and it wouldn’t stir itself. And I grew valiant, and raised the stick to baste it up, and then it looked at me, and such eyes! They did glower! And they were as big as saucers, and like a cruelled ball. First there was a red ring, then a blue one, then a white one; and these rings grew less and less till they came to a dot.
“Now, I was not feared of it, though it grinned at me fearfully. And I kept on saying, ‘Get up and stir yourself’; and the wife heard as how I was at the door, and she came to open it, and then this thing got up and walked off, for it was more feared of the wife than it was of me! And I called wife, and she said it was the Barguest, but I’ve never seen it since. And that’s a true story.”
The Norse gods were more like neighbouring farmers than remote deities, and they were not immortal. At the end, even though they were on the right side, they lost.
Loki seems to have been left over from an earlier religion, and it shows in his nature. He was quick and subtle among gods who were strong and direct – in much the same way that an Irishman baffles the English. At first he was more mischievous than evil, and only later did he become black right through.
he gods of Asgard could not live for ever – not even Odin, the father of all. They were gods who would grow bent, and weak, and die like ordinary men. But they owned a treasure that was more than the gold of the earth and the pearls of the sea. Her name was Idun, and she kept a box of magic apples.
These apples held the power of everlasting youth. Their taste was April, and they were the colour of the sun. But not only the gods loved Idun’s beauty and wanted to taste the Apples of Life. Not only gods wanted to live for ever…
One day Odin, Hoenir and Loki were travelling far from Asgard. The three gods were often together, for between them they had made the first man and woman out of two logs – an ash and an elm. So from time to time they left Asgard to visit these moving logs called men.
By the end of the day, the gods were tired and hungry, and they were in a desolate place without any house or shelter. Loki killed an ox, and built a fire to roast it on. He blew the wood red and white, and the bark flared like beards.
Loki stood back. “That’s the fire!” he said. “Sit yourself down, Odin Allfather; the ox will soon be done. Oh, look at those legs! And that shoulder! We’ll not do so bad for supper tonight. Eh? Ah, that’s the fire!”
“I’m cold,” said Odin.
“Come a bit nearer, then, Allfather. These flames will put a glow on you. It takes Loki to build a real fire. Oh, the gravy of it! Oh, the crackling! The darling sweet marrow!”
Loki drooled and danced around the fire. Hoenir turned the ox.
“I am still cold,” said Odin.
“Come nearer, then,” said Loki.
“My feet are in the fire already.”
Loki dropped on his forearms and blew the fire until he fell sideways in a coughing fit.
“The fire is big enough,” said Odin. “The flames are cold.”
“There’s no point in roasting this ox,” said Hoenir. “It’s not even singed.”
Loki turned to face the darkness that enclosed them. “There’s something funny going on,” he said. “Where is it?” His gaze travelled round; and up; and down; and up – there was a tall shape in the head of a pine tree beyond the fire, an eagle bigger than a man sat there and watched the three gods.
“Hey! You!” shouted Loki. “Have you been putting a spell on this fire?”
“I have,” said the eagle.
“Then you can take it off again!”
The eagle did not move.
“Do you hear me? Take the spell off the fire! We’re starving!”
“And if I do, what will you give me?” said the eagle.
“Give you? Give you? It’s what I’ll be giving you if you don’t, you moth-eaten sparrow!”
“Quiet, Loki,” said Odin. “Old eagle, old eagle, greycrested tonight: what do you want? I am Odin.”
“I know you all,” said the eagle. “My share of the ox is what I am asking if I roast it for you.”
“You shall have that. Come down.”
The eagle dropped like a dark banner before the fire, and the flames joined sky and earth under the boom of its wings. The ox was roasted.
Loki glared sideways at the eagle, but he was the first to reach for the ox when the meat was done.
“Wait,” said Odin. “The cook must choose his share.”
“But, Allfather—”
“Wait. Now, eagle, take your share.”
“I shall,” said the eagle. “And here is your share.”
From the beak and talons there dropped a few picked bones.
“My supper!” screamed Loki. “That’s where manners gets you! My lovely ox!” He cast about him in the rage of his hunger, and tore a branch from the trunk of a tree, and brought it down with the force of his godhead upon the eagle’s back. The eagle laughed. It was not the laugh of an eagle, but the laugh of a giant.
He leapt into the air, and the branch clung to his back, and Loki clung to the branch and could not let go. For an instant wings and feathers and the white limbs of Loki swirled upwards in the firelight, and then Hoenir and Odin were alone in that desolate place before a cold fire and silence.
For Loki in his roaring height there was soon no starpoint of red to mark the ground, but there was the booming cloud above him, and the numb grip of his hands on the branch, stronger than he could grip.
“Put me down!” he cried. “Put me down, you mangy rooster! What do you think you are doing? Let me go!”
“Let you go, Loki? Shall I? Now?” said the eagle.
“Yes! – No! Nononononono! You wouldn’t!” No-o-o-o-o—!”
The eagle laughed like his wings. “Not yet, Loki. Higher! Higher!”
“Oh, my arms! Oh, I’m freezing!”
“Higher! Higher!”
“What do you want? What are you doing it for? I never harmed you.”
“I am Thiassi the Storm Giant,” said the eagle. “I am Thiassi—”
“—Oh dear oh—”
“—and I have caught a god!”
“Put me down again, there’s a good lad,” said Loki.
“Yes, Loki, yes! But higher! Higher!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I am going to take you so high,” said Thiassi, “that the night will paint you black with frost; so high, that when I drop you you will never reach the earth.”
“Never – reach – the – earth?”
“You will fall so far, so fast, that you will burn in the air like a shooting star, and never reach the ground.”
“Now what do you want to go to all that trouble for?”
“It is no trouble,” said Thiassi. “But if I set you free unhurt, what will you give as ransom?”
“Ransom,” said Loki. “That’s it. I could fix that. Yes. Anything. Just you say. You’ve come to the right one. Oh yes.”
“You promise?”
“I promise, all right,” said Loki. “Just you put me down nice and easy, and I’ll do anything for you.”
“Anything?”
“Oh yes. Anything. You’ll see. But please: down: yes? My arms are out of their sockets—”
“Then bring me,” said Thiassi, “Idun and the Apples of Life.”
“What?” said Loki. “Idun? Oh no. I can’t. Not Idun. Anything but Idun.”
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br /> “Then higher, Loki! Higher!”
“Ay! Oo! Ah! Oh!”
“Higher! Higher! Higher!”
“Oh! Ah! Oo! Ay!”
“Higher!”
“All right! All right! Idun!”
“And the Apples.”
“And the Apples!”
“Without fail.”
“Without fail!”
“Good,” said Thiassi. “Good. Then down we go.”
Idun was walking by the fountains of Asgard. She was so beautiful that wherever she went flowers sprang in her footsteps.
“Hello, there!” said Loki.
“Hello, Loki. I thought you were away,” said Idun.
“Yes. Well, you see, I got back sooner than expected. Are Odin and Hoenir in Asgard yet?”
“No,” said Idun. “We thought they were with you.”
“So they were. So they were. But I came home by a different route; and a tiring one it’s been, I’ll tell you. I’m not myself at all.”
“You should have an apple, then,” said Idun. She opened her golden casket. “Here, Loki. This will make you better.”
“Do you think I could be having just a bite?”
“Of course. Here. Take it.”
Loki held the apple in his hand. His teeth sank through the crisp and burnished gold. He chewed for a while, his eyes closed in concentration, then he lay back against a fountain stone, and smiled, and sighed his pleasure.
“Oh, that’s good. Yes, it’s a darling sweet apple. Mmmm. Yes. Nearly perfect. Delicious. Thanks, Idun. Bless you for a dear girl.”
“What do you mean?” said Idun. “‘Nearly perfect’?”
“Think nothing of it,” said Loki. “A slip of the tongue, my dear. It’s a grand apple.”
“But my apples are the Apples of Life. They are perfect!”
“Well – this morning – I tasted – well, no, perhaps I’m wrong,” said Loki. “Forget it.”
Idun stamped her foot. “There are no apples like mine!”
“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” said Loki. “Don’t take on. Perhaps you’re right.”