Lore:The Translated Works of Tosmorn, III

Second Fragment

[Editor's Note: The second of  's translated poetic fragments will likely appear familiar to scholars and enthusiasts of vateshran performances. Gwyna, Chief Rowolan, the demigoddess  , and the   frequently appear in oral tales, though their depictions vary wildly from work to work, as Edette notes. As a point of fact, Edette leans on Vateshran Tosmorn's clout and reputation to suggest what follows is the definitive portrayal of these classic characters.]

Translator Xandier Edette's Preface

The   can still be heard today, if a vateshran finds themselves besides a fire on a cold spring evening. In translating and recording Tosmorn's version of the song, I was surprised to find this arrangement of the popular subjects within. In his telling of the song, Gwyna is kindred to Chief Rowolan and his clan, and not a hunter of the Horn-Stride clan. As in modern depictions, Rowolan's near-mythical prowess in battle is attributed to his descent from the demigoddess Dearola, herself a child of  .

Frustratingly, the manuscripts I collected fail to explain the action that precipitated Rowolan's fall to the Horn-Stride. A vateshran of Tosmorn's status would undoubtedly be able to settle if it was treachery on the part of Rowolan's seventh daughter (a particularly popular variant I've heard), or his failure to observe the omen of the   (another popular variant), or from some hitherto unproposed cause.

  
Gwyna 
Once this was a quiet wood 
Now it echoes with dirges 
I can hear the sound of mattocks 
Raking earth away to make 
A home for our solemn dead

The battle is over and won 
The Horn-Stride clan is gone 
Banished to the dark below the crag

We have sung our victory 
We have shouted our strength 
We have whispered our sorrow

Now the bodies of my clan 
Are planted in the soil here 
What will grow from them? 
Nothing but tales of glory 
The earth will remain barren 
We will keep it so

And when we clear flower and grass 
We will recount the names of those 
That died for the sake of our clan

Chief Rowolan lies dead 
Arrow-blinded, breath stilled within 
His sons and daughters all around him 
As leaves around a mighty  

The massive bough is now fallen 
The leaves are fallen with him 
So ends the line of Rowolan 
His was the blood of Dearola 
Daughter of Hircine

The Horn-Stride was beaten back 
But our heart was cut from us 
We smile to one another in victory 
The season will pass on to winter 
And by next spring we will be gone 
As fog in the light of day

We must strike with speed 
Before the strength leaves our clan 
Others will learn of Rowolan's death 
And the crows will gather

Before our bones are clean 
We must strike at the   
And the king below the rock

I go now to the witchmen 
In the copse of rotted   
Their draughts are bitter 
They rot us from inside 
But we must take this poison, kin 
To stand against Markarth's arrows

There will be no graves dug for us 
For if we take the stone walls 
We will not live to hold them

We seek no spoils from Markarth 
Rowolan sought to kill a king 
And free a people 
His cause is ours

We will burn our blood with witchman's fire 
And overrun the city

We will storm the keep below the stone 
And dash the crown upon the floor

We will rake the throat of the king 
With sharpened flint and hunter's claws

We will die, but will not care 
Rowolan's dream will be done 
The clan I love is doomed 
This season or the next 
It ought not die alone