The 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 forefather’s sang them 

and my father as he carved his ax 

and I nipped at my mother’s teat 

When the world was in its youth, 

there were but gods and giants 

and their wars were bloody, endless 

One day, Magmus, King of Giants, 

he sent to the gods Peace, a Nymph 

and she spoke of truce between gods and giants 

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

highest of mountains 

Being bravest and strongest, 

Strom the Thunderer, Red Bearded, Red Knuckled, 

set forth to meet Magmus, King of Giants 

And they talked peaceably, dividing the world in twain— 

one half each for their kind 

But there was but a small patch, 

upon which Strongheim stands, 

which giant and god both claimed 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 it was 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?” 

And so Magmus offered up his cup—massive as a mountain— 

which his sister Wizzeria hath made 

from the stars for Strom to drink 

And 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 Spire 

But the giants lay in wait for him, to ambush him; THREE there were: 

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

And Wizzeria the Hag, Bewitcher, Most Ugly, Sister of 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’s 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, the 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 

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 giant’s come again to lay claim to the world