[Book] The Last Story of Sirof the Oak

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Tristior
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[Book] The Last Story of Sirof the Oak

Post by Tristior » Thu May 24, 2018 2:15 pm

At the coming of the Companions to Skyrim, there was a follower of Ysgramor called Sigrun the Blue Wolf, whose name meant victory and who had split fifty-eight times her number at the point of the Return. Her keel-spouse, who was dear to her, was called Hrolfi, and he split twenty-two times his number. Together, they crossed the salty river of tears before Saarthal and there raised a farm in the fertile elflands beyond, and upon the red earth they bore the hundred children of the Wolf Tail Clan.

Firstborn was Sirof, oak-like, who married three times across his two-hundred summers: by his hearth-spouse, Freydis, he bore Sigrif and Sigdis; by his war-spouse, Mereth, he bore Sigraeth; and by his plough-spouse, Eirik, he bore no children. Although he was strong and worthy, his acorns were small, and so his progeny were forever three. But these three loved Sirof the Oak, and he raised them into righteous servants of the World-Beams, and told them stories of the way of doing things. He told them stories of cleanliness, and happiness, and the proper way to mourn, and the family of Sirof the Oak grew close and loving.

Many years passed, and his children grew, and Sirof’s leaves began to turn. He continued to tell his stories so that his children would know the way of doing things, because the land had been won from elves and in those days their spirits still whispered false traditions to the Nords. One day, as they worked the fields, a stranger came to the gates of their farmstead. She was clothed in the long hair that fell around her single eye and rode atop a great wolf, which in those days was no cause for comment, but she spoke with her eye and called for parley with Sirof. Having been told the stories of hospitality, Sigrif and Sigdis led the stranger into the hall as Sigraeth stabled her wolf and slaughtered a horse for its supper.

Later, when the last bone of the feast had been broken, Sirof bade his three progeny enter the hall and take their places at his feet.

“Children, I am your father and I am filled with a fierce love to look at you. This will be my last story, for after today you will be forever beyond my sight. I have told you much about the way of doing things, but I have never told you of matrimony. Yet within our home is holy Mara, and She has told me of Her marriage to each of you, to take place this night upon Hrothgar itself, in the sight of all the three realms. No, do not cry or try to flee. I have not raised you to disobey the Gods. Instead listen, and I will tell you what will happen.

“Sigrif, you have grown wise and handsome like your father: blessed Mara will make you Her feast-spouse, and you will sit at Her side and be marvelled at with envy. Sigdis, you are the very image of your step-mother Mereth: blessed Mara will make you Her sword-spouse, and wield you against Her enemies. Sigraeth, you are solemn and solitary: blessed Mara will make you Her breath-spouse, and sequester you in meditation. In time, all of you will find spouses of your own, to suit your needs and duties, and your children will spread out across the Sky. This is my last story, the story of what will be.”

At this, and with great tears leaping from his eyes, Sirof turned away from his children for the last time. But the words he had spoken were true, for the three wedded a goddess that very night, and in time found their places in the great tangle of matrimony. The children they bore Her were beautiful indeed, and they grew strong and worthy, and spread out across the Sky to take their places as the very stars themselves.

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