The Dark Mirror - A Union Of Water Legend

Discussion in 'Player Stories' started by LadyLekku, Sep 12, 2021.

  1. LadyLekku

    LadyLekku Fiber Viber Supremium

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    The Dark Mirror
    A Velheim legend, traditionally passed down through spoken word
    Transcribed and translated by Valsung Sivrid Sorenvik

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    The Jovrlov had died, and to survive him, left only in the realm one relative: his sister. Wiser than he, she was, and with her wit came guile. She took upon his duties like a scavenging raven, twisting his decrees into her own words, charming his allies to suit her own needs. And yet, so beloved had her brother been, that to see his mantle persist in his kin was a great boon to the spirits of his people. Áslaug was her name.

    Word spread to the surrounding kingdoms of a Jovrlov whose demeanor was so striking, that to speak with her was to speak with a serpent of the sea. Whose crow-feather hair was straighter than a huntsman’s arrow, and longer even than her own gowns. Whose skin was so fair and pale, that she cast a glow upon the moonlit snow. And whose eyes pierced the heart of any who would come before her, as if to look at her, was to see oneself reflected in a mirror that stripped away all arrogance and boasting.

    It came time that the woman thought she should take a spouse. Word was cast across the villages, across windy plane and treacherous mountain, through cities and kingdoms, that she would marry whoever could rise to her challenge. The one that she would marry would present a great slab of stone, sized well enough for a statue. And then, would strike it in half, with a single blow.

    Over the course of many weeks, men and women of the Northerne lands arrived to vie for Áslaug’s hand. She built a stage for her wooden throne atop a high hill, and let the contestants try, and try, and try again to win her affections. Always a display was made of the suitors, hauling their slabs of rock up the hill and to the dirt before her, by then sweating and exhausted from the effort, only to nearly collapse before her. She would give all of them the same instruction. “A single blow must cleave the stone, and we will be bound forever.”

    To crack a boulder was no easy feat, and with the added effort of the travel, the hauling, and the pageantry of it all, the suitors would raise their hammers- only to strike their stone, and be quite too weak to break it. This all brought quite a bit of glee to the Jovrlov, who held only her wry smile, as she watched the suitors toil and collapse at her feet. She would even send her own subjects to retrieve the unbroken stones, and had soon arranged them around herself as if they were a shrine to her untouchable beauty.

    But a man, a stonemason called Berlingr, was prepared to have Áslaug at her word. He knew better than to answer to the call of the craven beauty with only strength to answer for her demand. He would combine his strength, and his wit, to beat the Jovrlov’s little game. He would outshine the other suitors, by delivering a large boulder of onyx to the woman, knowing her love of all things beautiful. He would polish it until it gleamed, blacker than the eyes of the woman who would gaze into it. And before the day of hauling it to her feet, he would strike it, once, twice, a dozen times, a hundred- and hundreds, and hundreds of times, to weaken it for his task. So that when he rose his hammer at the final strike, it would cleave the stone in half, and he would be her Kjaere.

    Quite a spectacle was Berlingr, as he hauled his heavy boulder to the Jovrlov’s feet. Another dozen slabs of stone had been added to her self-made temple atop the hill, and she sat among the upright stones, not so different from a stone herself. But at the sight of the man who hauled the onyx sphere, her expression finally changed. Her posture rightened, and she gazed curiously at the suitor. And swollen with pride at her reaction to his gift, Berlingr managed the rest of the haul, and placed it at her feet. When he rose to height, he was grinning with pride, already eager to claim a prize he had not yet won. Áslaug was more lovely than he might have thought- and in the eye of his mind, his life with her did weigh in his heart, in apprehension of a fantasy. He thought that he might soon use the onyx to make her fine jewelry, and she might love him, and find him a worthy man among the many who had only failed her.

    But Áslaug’s eyes were not upon Berlingr. They remained upon the onyx stone, in which she could see her own reflection. And when she parted her blushed lips to speak, it was not the same instruction that Berlingr had anticipated.

    “Stranger,” said she, “I can see myself in this stone, surely you have tended it well.”

    “Yes, Jovrlov.”

    “Oh, what devotion. But- how I fear your strength!” her smile had returned, and Berlingr’s grew only wider. “To haul such a heavy thing to my feet, you are a giant of a man.”

    “Do not fear it,” he replied, chest puffed up and arms twitching, “I would give every bit of my strength, to serve you.”

    “Surely you know that you will pass my test. I am certain that no stone could ever withstand the blow from a hammer wielded by the arm of such a man,” she only fawned again.

    “Indeed, none can,” was his reply. The fantasies in his heart grew only more impassioned. He had tasted of her visual splendor, but her words fared him only sweeter.

    “And yet- I wonder. Oh, I wonder,” her gleaming eyes flicked back to the stone, before the man again. “Could you but help it? Could you even stop yourself, if you had wanted, from splitting a stone? Oh good man- give it but a tap. A gentle touch, and show me that there is gentleness to your brutish strength. Should the stone remain whole, we will be wed today.”

    At this, Berlingr had no reply. Áslaug watched him, only with the same thin smile she’d cast down to so many before him. And with feet heavier than lead, and a heart whose fantasies were now wrought with anxiety, he took up his hammer as she commanded. And with a tremble of his hand, lifted the tool. He was slow, as if to put the task further away would somehow draw him but another moment to envision that his love might yet be spared. But there was no such yielding from Áslaug. Only her silent eyes, as the mason’s own hand brought the hammer down. And with a mighty crack, the stone was cleaved, as was the heart of Berlingr.

    --------------------------------
    Editorial note: Discourse of this tale

    It is not known if the Jovrlov ever married, following this trial. It is unknown if she had even intended to marry, or if the show had been one sadistic festival for her to enjoy the sight of others, throwing themselves into exhaustion at her feet. But what is known, is the fate of the onyx stone. It is commonly known that the stone was cut down, into a great circular disc, blacker than the night, and polished until it gleamed the reflection of the viewer back as a ghostly spectre of themselves, shrouded in a cold and heavy veil of blackened stone. It is said that The Dark Mirror was the Jovrlov’s most beloved possession, and was entombed in the Haugbolwen with her body, so that she could gaze at herself, her truest love, through all of eternity.
     
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    #1 LadyLekku, Sep 12, 2021
    Last edited: Feb 17, 2022
  2. LadyLekku

    LadyLekku Fiber Viber Supremium

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    Thanks for reading! I'm still planning to get a couple more of these out, they're super fun to write. Non canon obviously, but Siv's been circulating this as an ic book for a while, so feel free to know of it ic, even if only as that one thing the Alms Minister keeps suggesting that people read.

    Union of Air Legend
    Union of Earth Legend
    Union of Fire Legend
     
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    #2 LadyLekku, Sep 12, 2021
    Last edited: Feb 17, 2022

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