The Fall of Carlu

A note by the author - I encourage the reader to not be put off by the unfamiliar names and words mentioned in my writing. The names contribute to a collection of fictional stories based on genealogies of both Northern European mythology and my own creation. Words and names in italics are sourced from Norse and Celtic myth and folklore and can be investigated for historical context.

Like nuclear energy, fire ultimately eludes human understanding or human control. Visible yet ungraspable, powerful but immaterial, fire is for many societies the most obvious, intrinsic emblem of the divine. - Neil MacGregor

It has been seven days since the elder Eudaf the Brave, daughter of Cogidubnus, departed to the Otherworld upon her hazel wagon. That same night, a fire went out in the nursery's hearth, and all three babes passed in their slumber when the darkening frost of Winter’s night subdued their weak little bodies. It has been thought that old Eudaf requires the babes for her journey; that they have their noble place awaiting them in the royal court of the Gods.

The frost continues to prevail over the World. Five human figures transcend through the deep valleys where even ghosts get buried beneath the ice. Often blinded by white-out conditions, they would walk all day, and sleep at night in their animal furs beneath rocky shelters or tree roots. Each person carries with them a little silver-birch pouch with embers of Erbin’s fire nested within. Whenever they set camp, they would build their fire within seconds. They would eat nuts found buried in the ground, fungi from sheltered groves, marrow from animal bones, tree bark, and occasionally freshwater fish. They would talk among each other for a brief time before falling into sleep, waking in tune to their campfire’s needs.

These five extreme travellers are the guard retinue of Eudaf. With them they carry a few of her possessions of which her Manna (Self) is imbued. They are exceptional masters of the wilderness and inherit the wisdom and knowledge from giants. They do not fear the wilderness, but call it their sanctuary. Two of them are the noble shield maidens of Eudaf’s house and the other three are noblemen. Each have seen battle; each have followed Eudaf to the limits of peril.

Their names are as follows: Carlu son of Barl; Caderyn son of Cyl; Bran son of Rue; Hess daughter of Rue; Hetti daughter of Kel.

They share the same cause for entering such unforgiving lands, leaving behind them the warmth and homely comforts of the mead hall: they exile themselves in homage to Eudaf the Brave, teacher of Laguz. The seer’s belongings that they carry with them are to be deposited in a pool of water tucked away in the hills of the North peaks. It is an old tradition of the Laguz where a servant of that rune will have their belongings ‘returned’ to Buri.

We are taking part in a tradition as old as the first magicians, Carlu would tell the others. Bran and Hess would be unconvinced, for their father Rue would tell them as children that the first magician was, and still is, the first fire to have ever sparked, an explosion of flames that moulded all living things in the furnace of ice, in which Buri was born. Carlu knows this story as well as anyone, but is untouched by it’s timeless origins. He is more concerned with his ancestors in which tangable evidence can be found, such as an ancient tree, or a grave stone. Carlu is a spiritless cynic, Hess would swear. May Carlu son of Barl be struck down by the shield boss of Eihwaz.

A cluster of elemental motions of water, wind, and air parade up into the white sky; The command of Hess has been heard.

On that seventh day of their journeying, the band of five arrive at the pool upon which they entrusted their fates. A frozen plate of emerald green spans across two opposing hillsides that rise up into the mist. It takes a moment to realise that the emerald tint does not inhabit the ice itself, but it seems to permeate the ice from under. The awe of this sight can be heard in the absolute silence among the exiles of Eudaf. The air in this enclave of rock is still, separated from the rest of the World that has so far on their journey offered anything but stillness. There is no doubt that this is the laguz – they have been guided here by Erbin’s faithful flame.

One by one, they walk over the ice sheet and meet together in the centre where they begin to build a fire with the dried wood from the wooded bank from where they arrived. The fire melts the ice and quickly collapses through. Caderyn uses his staff to knock the sides to widen the well. Then each take out one of Eudaf’s possessions and drops it in. A little bag of bones; a stone pestle & mortar; a cherry spoon; a pouch of seeds; the ashes of Erbin’s flame. The emerald green can be seen through the hole and gives the impression that it is coming from the bottomless depth of the lagoon – a portal into Buri’s layer, the womb from which the God was born.

The ritual is brief, but a deep feeling of ancestral prosperity runs the length of the sky in each of their hearts. They begin to walk steadily back onto land in their own time. Carlu is the last to leave, and once he rises from a crouching position, the ice below his feet cracks and fragments. Carlu falls down quicker than a rock falling down a mountain’s steepest slope. His despair is not so fast, however. Arms stick out of the hole for brief attempts of rescue before surrendering to the perilous nature of ice. Hess is as fearful as the rest, for the divine will of such a place must be feared even by giants.

Carlu son of Barl was no giant, and his deeds made only one runic poem which would attribute to the bardic memory of Vir, recalling his fall into Buri's layer.

Let us return to the mead hall, voices Hetti daughter of Kel. Let us return to the warmth of the hearth and to our families. Let us return to our livestock and to the standing stones of our ancestors. Let us return to the World of the living.