I've been hard at work on a fantasy novel lately, which I why I haven't been sharing shorts stories much lately. I hope to be finished (with the 2nd draft at least) by the time I'm in law school this fall. But I also decided that I have written enough folk tales within that fantasy world that they merit a fleshed out compilation, so I have a new short folk tale to share with you all. I hope to write a large number of these in the future (currently I have three) so be on the lookout for more! This one comes from the Eastern Islands, an archipelago of small islands in the southeast with a mild climate.
Rogar and the Wind
Spirit
The young girl
Rogar had loved since they were children reached an age suitable to wed. Her
father, a wealthy baron, declared that the winner of a grand tournament of
strength would earn her hand because he wished his grandchildren to be warriors
of legendary might.
The tournament
drew fine warriors from across many islands, for the young girl was lovely and
fair and attracted many suitors. But Rogar was skinny and short, and he could
never hope to succeed in a contest of strength.
Rogar was distraught.
He walked along the ocean side, kicking sand and weeping. There he came upon a
Wind Spirit who sat on the water’s edge contemplating death.
“What is it you
think on, Spirit?” asked Rogar.
“I think on
death,” the Spirit replied. “I wonder why the lives of men must end while mine
endures. Since the Beginning everything of this world rots and decays but I,
for I am wind, and when I am powerful the world’s creations bend at my whims
and when I am soft as a whisper my embrace warms the living and calms the seas.
What it feels like to die and feel no more is unknown to me. What is it you
think on, human?”
“I think on
strength,” Rogar replied. “The woman I love is being auctioned to the strongest
of men, but look on me! The skin on my flabby arms sag and my knobby knees tremble
supporting my small girth. I can hardly lift a sword nor cast a line to sea.
What it feels like to be strong enough to fight for the one I love is unknown
to me.”
“I possess the
strength you desire,” said the Spirit. “I will give you the strength of ten
thousand men in return for the promise that you return to me at this spot in
the throes of death so I might observe its purpose.”
Rogar accepted
at once. The Spirit fed Rogar a fragment of the Eternal Wind and bade him
farewell. Rogar gave the Spirit profound thanks and entered the tournament. The
crowd laughed at his scrawny figure standing next to giants of men, but Rogar
smiled, knowing his secret.
None compared to
Rogar’s strength. He dispatched of the other suitors with hardly a care and
stunned all when he stood alone at the end. The young girl’s father proudly
proclaimed Rogar suitable to wed his daughter.
Rogar and the
young girl rushed into an embrace, but in his passion Rogar crushed her body
and squeezed the life out of her. Overcome with grief, he returned to the sands
where he found the Wind Spirit in the same spot, contemplating death.
“My beloved has
perished,” Rogar cried. “I come to you in the throes of death. You may now
observe my demise as you requested, Spirit.”
Thus Rogar threw
himself into the ocean and drowned himself. The Wind Spirit ceased
contemplating death, for it had learned that men are cursed with death in
return for the blessing of love.
Bonus: Here's the action-packed 30-second movie trailer for the home movie of my 7-year-old roommate Kalmia I'm working on. Hold onto your seats!
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