Song of Strom

​

​

​

I am wanting to arise and go forth singing

hymns ancestral of our kindred lore.

Lay ear to me and listen—

hear my song and be inspired.

Ages past my forefathers sang them,

and my father as he carved his ax

and I nipped my mother’s teat.

 

When the world was in its youth,

there were but gods and giants

and their wars were bloody, endless,

until the day that Magmus, King of Giants,

sent Peace, a Nymph, to the gods,

who spoke of truce between gods and giants.

 

One god and one giant were to meet atop Mount Krome,

highest of mountains.

Being bravest and strongest,

Strom the Thunderer, Red-Bearded, Red-Knuckled,

set forth to meet Magmus, King of Giants.

They talked peaceably, dividing the world in twain—

one half each for their kind.

But there was but a small patch,

upon which Hoarfrost stands,

which both giant and god claimed for their own.

 

As they could not agree on this small parcel,

Magmus, King of Giants, challenged Strom.

Each would drink his full, and whoever drank more fully

would lay claim to this land.

So Magmus filled his cup—massive as a mountain—

and drank until done.

But Strom the Thunderer, Mightiest of Gods, Red-Bearded, Red-Knuckled,

said unto him,

Fool giant, who thinks I can be bested, drink you so little?

So Magmus offered up his cup—massive as a mountain—

which his sister Wizzeria hath made

from the stars for Strom to drink.

Strom drank from it, and drank and drank and drank.

But when his belly was to bursting,

he saw that he had not drunk so much.

Look you, sayeth Magmus, your cup is not yet empty,

you dranketh less than I, and so the disputed hill is mine!

And Strom hung his head in shame, leaving from the mountain.

 

Distraught as was the Thunderer,

he went down to the Open Sea,

to his brother Sargonus, White-Eyed, Foam-Haired,

and saw that Sargonus was deeply troubled.

My Sea! Sargonus declared,

The waters have fallen! Look you, Brother!

And when Strom looked, he flew into an awful rage,

knowing he had been deceived, and his cup bewitched,

refilling from the Sea again and again as he drank from it.

Outraged, Strom the Thunderer, Red Bearded, Red Knuckled, took up his hammer

and flew in a storm of rage atop Mount Krome.

But the giants lay in wait for him, to ambush him.

THREE there were!

Lunestes, the Four-Armed, Whose Head Scrapes the Stars, Brother to Magmus,

and Wizzeria, Hag, Bewitcher, Mother of Bogrens and Horg, Sister to Magmus.

But Strom’s fury could not be matched,

the battle lasting not days, not cycles, but seven times seven years.

The heavens blazed and thundered from the din of battle

and the earth trembled fearfully.

Never was there such battle known,

and henceforth the world was torn asunder,

into the Light and into the Dark.

Magmus and Wizzeria were fallen,

their skulls crushed by the Thunderer’s mallet,

and from Magmus’ bones did the god fashion Mountains,

and made he the Hills from Magmus’ teeth,

and made he the River from the giant’s blood,

and made he Men, and all the races of men kind,

from the god’s own sweat,

and from Wizzeria’s eye did he cast up the evil moon, which we call Eon.

But Lunestes, Four-Armed, Whose Head Scrapes the Stars, he let live,

binding the giant between earth and sky,

so that he may lift the greater moon to the heavens

and in eternal penance keep it,

so that oath-breakers and deceivers may look upon the moon and be dismayed.

 

When the battle was won,

the giants of the world lay down in the earth,

fearing the Thunderer’s wrath, 

craven before Strom’s wrath,

and there they remain to this day,

asleep in stone.

 

But weary from battle,

Strom the Thunderer, Mightiest of Gods, Red-Bearded, Red-Knuckled,

lay down his hammer—

which neither god nor giant could lift—

atop the sacred plateau known as Strom’s Hammer.

And Strom went into the mountain and lay himself down,

to awake when giants come again to lay claim to the world.