Ch. 6: Airhead Aino

Back to The Men in Brown



             When   Dad   came   in   from   work   he   usually   went   on   the   computer   or   watched   the   evening   news. Sometimes   if   he   wasn’t   too   tired   he’d   play   baseball   or   tell   them   stories. They   were   outside   when   they   heard   him   yelp   and   raced   into   the   living   room   clamouring   to   be   told   what   just   happened.

             “Wait,   it’ll   be   on   in   a   second.”

             “Honey,”   called   Mom,   “you   know   I   don’t   want   them   watching   the   news!”

             “Well,   this   is   special.”

             Mom   subsided   and   went   on   with   the   dishes. The   boys   waited   avidly. Sure   enough   the   announcer   said,   “And   in   world   news,   the   mystery   riders   continue   to   be   reported   in   different   locations. Eyewitnesses   describe   a   small   host   of   mounted   warriors   in   medieval   gear,   apparently   accompanied   by   ghosts,   led   by   a   group   of    kings   some   of   which   are   nine   feet   high. These   mysterious   riders   are   seen   sometimes   at   dawn   or   when   the   moon   rises. No   satellite   footage   of   them   has   yet   been   recorded,   and   video   footage   is   unconvincing   to   date. They   have   been   spotted   so   far   in   almost   every   country   of   northern   Europe,   often   in   places   especially   associated   with   legends   of   sleeping   heros. Speculations   are   rife   on   whether   this   is   a   UFO or   a   prank   band   of   re-enacters,   but   authorities   have   repeatedly   denied   any   activity   is   taking   place.”

             Stephen   and   Chris   looked   at   each   other   and   raced   out   of   the   house. When   they   were   safely   out   of   earshot   deep   in   the   tangled   brush   among   the   ruined   trucks,   they   both   started   babbling   at   the   top   of   their   lungs   to   each   other. “That   is   so   cool! Your   Dreams   were   real!--Well,   duh,   of   course   they   were!—They’ve   been   SEEN! Actually   SEEN!—Re-enacters,   oh   my   gosh   and   golly   I’m   going   to   split   hahahahaha”

             “But   seriously,   have   you   seen   any   more   of   them,   those   riders   I   mean?”   said   Stephen.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hooo   yeah.”   said   Chris. “I   totally   forgot   about   it,   with   waiting   for   Root   and   the   first   day   of   new   school,   but   last   night   was   just   stuffed   with   them. Either   I’m   catching   up   on   what’s   been   going   on,   or   old   Wayham   was   like   super-busy   last   night.”   He   grew   serious,   and   his   voice   took   on   a   strange   haunting   quality   as   he   called   up   the   memory. “The   sound   of   the   horn   echoed   like   a   dream   through   the   fog   of   my   dream. It   sounded   three   times. Up   out   of   the   earth   of   the   mossy   hill   I   was   facing   burst   a   great   band   of   armed   men;   there   was   something   somehow   Irish   about   them,   the   flamboyant   way   things   were   shaped,   the   vivid   colors,   kind   of   reminded   me   of   those   tales   of   Cuchulainn   in   those   Bantry   Bay   books. Furs   and   leather   helmets   and   round   bossed   shields,   splendid   and   barbaric   at   once. And   the   leader   said   in   a   great   voice,   ''The   Dord   Fiann   has   sounded   thrice. The   Fiana   stand   awakened. Fionn   mac   Cumhail   saith   this,   whom   is   he   who   blew   it,   whom   is   he   who   holds   it,   whom   is   he   that   stands   before   to   summon   us   forth? And   Wayham   King   stepped   out   of   the   mist,   and   he   said,   I   summon   you,   in   the   name   of   the   King! ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“And   then   the   land   changed,   the   way   it   does   in   dreams   you   know,   and   I   stood   amid   wild   hills   with   ragged   cliffs   of   grey   and   green,   and   there   was   a   deep   pit   hung   with   drooping   vegetation   and   ringed   with   walls   of   broken   stone,   and   up    the   vertical   walls   horsemen   were   riding,   and   they   were   dressed   for   hunting,   with   boar-spears   and   bear-spears   and   bows   and   quivers   hung   about   them;   a   host   of   really   horrible-looking   hounds   raced   up   the   walls   beside   them,   utter   black   with   eyes   like   coals   and   demonic   wolfish   smiles. And   as   one   man   they   said,''   Who   hath   blown   the   hunting   horn,   to   awake   and   arouse   the   Huntsmen   of   the   Henhole?    And   somehow,   I   felt   it   was   hundreds   of   miles   away   and   yet   at   the   same   time,   I   was   seeing   a   strange   mountain   forest   of   deep   old   pines,   and   three   men   dressed   like   William   Tell   were   walking   out   of   it,   except   they   were   William   Tell,   because   they   said   as   one,   Who   has   sounded   the   horn? Who   has   awoken   the   Three   Tells? ''    And   then   scenes   began   passing   before   me   in   strange   succession,   and   I   saw   ghost   after   ghost   rise   out   of   the   ground,   one   from   the   sea,   one   out   of   the   pass   of   a   bare   broken   mountain,   one   from   the   grass   of   an   old   barley   field   amid   beautiful   steep   blue   mountains,   and   another   from   a   strange   wild   land. They   spoke   their   names   as   they   were   woken,   in   strange   languages,   the   slow   broad   Old   English   and   the   strong   stern   yet   liquid   Spanish   and   the   slushy   harsh   Slavic   tongues:   Harold   King,   King   Roderic   last   of   Goths,   Jecminek   the   Barley   King,   Vytautas   the   Great. From   out   of   the   morning   fog   a   lone   king   in   Spanish   plate   armour   rode:   Sebastian   of   Portugal. There   was   a   broad   river   with   ugly   cities   clustered   around   it,   and   out   of   the   water   and   standing   on   water   a   huge   man   rose,   with   the   ears   of   a   bear,   and   a   boat   that   was   bearing   down   on   him   he   caught   with   one   hand   and   thrust   it   away:   I   mean,   the   guy   must   have   super-strength. His   name   was   Lacpleis,   from   Daugua   river. And   all   of   them   as   they   arose   demanded   who   had   woken   them,   and   at   last   I   heard   a   single   answer,   a   voice   as   huge   as   the   sea   from   thousands   of   men   speaking   as   one:    The   King   commands   it.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“And   I   saw   the   army,   riding   through   the   fog,   some   with   glowing   weapons   and   some   with   glowing   eyes,   and   around   the   King   there   were   riding   a   whole   troop   of   kings   now,   almost   twenty   or   so:   and   one   bore   a   great   black   banner,   and   somehow   I   knew   this   was   because   the   true   banner   had   yet   to   be   found. And—um,   what   else   was   there—oh   yeah,   there   were   these   two   big   mountains   all   tropical   jungle,   in   the   Phillipines   I   felt,   and   they   were   leaning   up   against   each   other,   and   now   and   then   they   shuddered   as   if   something   within   was   trying   to   escape. Then   I   saw   the   ghosts   streaming   forward   and   prying   apart   the   mountain,   shouting,   Come   forth,   Bernado   Carpio!”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “It   should   be   really   interesting,   tomorrow’s   lessons.”   said   Stephen,   pulling   his   raincoat   closer. “I’m   hungry. I   wanna   go   in.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “I   can’t   wait   to   hear   more   about   that   Vainny-moynen   guy.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   garble   that   name   any   more   and   Root’ll   make   us   pronounce   it   correctly   twenty   times   in   a   row.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Arrrgghh.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             The   next   day   was   so   cold   and   raw   you   would   have   thought   it   was   April. Root   had   a   scarf   when   he   came. “The   first   week   of   June   is   always   cold   and   rainy   over   here.”   he   grumbled. He   spent   some   time   showing   Mom   the   curriculum   he   had   designed   from   the   test   results,   then   sat   the   boys   down   and   began   lessons.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             When   it   was   time   for   literature,   the   boys   demanded   another   story. “About   Vanna—how   did   you   say   that ?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Vay-nahy-moiur-nen.”   said   Root. “Yes,   I   did   promise   you   the   tale   of   Aino,   didn’t   I.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Why   did   Vay-nay-mornen   ask   ransom   of   that   guy,   anyway?”   Chris   wanted   to   know.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             Root   replied,   of   course,   by   breaking   into   chant.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Last   name   men   what   hold   they   dearest ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">First   name   they   what   can   best   part   with ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">First   the   thing   they   hold   most   lightly ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Last   the   thing   that   hoped   to   keep   they ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   hast   named   thy   weapons   firstly ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   hast   listed   thy   possessions ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Next   to   last   thy   gold   and   corn-land ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Last   thou   named   thy   sister   Aino ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">For   this   cause   I   sing   thee   free   now ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">This   alone   hast   earned   thee   freedom ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Get   thee   to   thy   distant   dwelling ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">There   prepare   my   bride   for   wedding.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             He   paused. “Those   were   the   words   of   Väinämöinen,   which   do   not   live   on   in   the   Kalevala. But   I   remember   them.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             He   crossed   his   legs   and   began   to   speak,   in   normal   tones   at   first,   slowly   falling   into   a   strange   dreamlike   murmer   which   became   a   rising   singsong,   not   the   powerful   chant   he   usually   sang   in   but   close   to   it. “Now   did    vaka   vanha   Väinämöinen,   steadfast   ancient   Väinämöinen,   lend   his   steps   to   Lapland’s   forests,   bend   his   thoughts   to   maiden   fairest,   whose   white   hand   was   his   now   promised. From   far   afield   he   watched   the   maiden,   watched   her   as   she   sang   at   weaving,   watched   her   with   her   gold   hair   flowing,   free   to   the   wind   in   Lapland’s   springtime. He   heard   from   far   off   Youkahainen   bring   to   home   his   news   full   bitter,   news   of   his   humiliation,   of   who   it   was   his   sister   given. And   listening   carefully   Väinämöinen,   steadfast,   ancient,   from   the   forest,   eager   to   see   her   reaction,   to   see   what   heart   might   lie   in   maiden.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             Scorn   and   bitter   sorrow   crept   into   Root’s   voice. “She   wept   and   raged,   she   scorned   and   postured,   against   being   bride   of   Väinämöinen,   whom   she   thought   a   cruel   old   dotard. Still   he   listened   from   afield,   hoping   to   in   her   discern   some   small   spark   of   womanhood,   something   in   her   of   matureness,   something   that   was   not   of   vainness. But   all   he   heard   were   her   lamentings,   that   she   must   give   up   her   maiden   freedom,   give   up   the   chores   of   maidenhood,   that   she   must   become   responsible   and   grow   up   into   a   woman:   she   announced   she   would   be   girl   forever,   ever   to   dwell   in   home   of   mother. Saddened   by   her   foolish   nature,   her   brother   indeed   resembling,   Väinämöinen   cursed   his   fortune,   for   while   he   watched   he   had   to   her   fallen,   he   now   loved   the   fickle   maiden.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “He   watched   for   her   to   go   birch-picking,   to   see   what   she   would   say   to   him   if   she   met   him   face   to   feature,   saw   he   was   no   helpless   dotard,   saw   he   was   a   mighty   hero,   strongly   muscled   bearded   hero. He   sang   upon   his   own   appearance,   sang   him   younger,   sang   him   darker,   till   the   white   was   gone   from   beard   and   only   grey   in   streaks   now   marred   his   hair,   sang   his   beard   all   neatly   braided,   sang   his   garments   into   splendor. He   sat   him   down   upon   a   boulder,   white   his   leggings,   his   tunic   russet,   gold   and   silver   sewn   within   it. Now   here   Aino   came   toward   him,   binding   tassels   from   the   birch-trees,   binding   brooms   from   tender   twigs. When   he   spoke   she   started   badly,   for   she   had   not   seen   him   waiting   until   she   was   right   before   him. Gold   her   hair,   with   gold   adorned,   earrings,   rings   and   golden   necklace,   swung   and   flashed   within   the   sunlight.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “ ‘I   am   sorry,   I   did   not   see   you.’   she   said   to   him,   laughing   fair   within   the   sunlight. ‘Who   are   you,   old   man   in   russet? Why   sit   perched   like   a   grey   squirrel   upon   your   mossy   boulder-stone?’

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             ‘Far   have   come   to   gaze   on   maiden,   to   see   the   one   of   matchless   beauty   whose   fame   has   reached   into   Wainola. My   name   is   one   of   whom   you   heard,   no   doubt   heard   ill   from   thy   good   brother.’

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             ‘Art   thou   then   ancient   Väinämöinen,   who   comes   to   claim   me   like   a   prize?’   she   flashed,   and   if   fair   had   she   been   aforetime,   more   fair   still   she   when   anger-flushed.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “He   held   up   his   hands   and   shook   his   head. ‘Thy   brother   may   have   thy   hand   promised,   but   I   am   no   senseless   fool,   to   rush   headlong   here   in   arrogance,   here   to   claim   the   hand   of   maiden. First   I   wished   you   to   look   upon   me,   before   I   came   to   mother’s   door.’

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “ ‘Now   you   see   me,   and   I   see   you,’   she   answered,   and   in   her   face   she   was   considering,   seeing   the   mighty   hero’s   thews,   that   here   was   no   helpless   dotard   whose   stay   and   prop   she   was   to   be,   that   here   was   a   bearded   hero   not   much   older   than   her   brother. So   wonderful   she   looked   in   sunlight,   with   gold   gleaming   fresh   upon   her,   that   Väinämöinen   spoke   again. ‘Lovely   art   thou,   crowned   in   sunlight,   gold   and   rings   upon   thee   gleaming.’ And   seeing   the   flush   of   pleasure   on   her   features,   was   emboldened   to   speak   further. ‘Wear   them   well,   O   gorgeous   Aino. Wear   them   not   for   other   men,   but   wear   them   for   me,   O   fairest   maiden.’”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             Root’s   face   was   hard   and   furrowed,   as   with   the   pain   of   some   old   memory:   perhaps,   thought   Chris   suddenly,   he   too   had   been   in   that   situation. “But   there   was   in   her   no   substance,   but   there   was   in   her   all   vainness,   and   she   stripped   in   spiteful   fury   ring   and   trinket   from   her   body,   cast   them   down   within   the   grass,   tossed   them   wasteful   in   the   forest,   scorning   him   who   sat   before   her,   saying   she   would   never   marry,   never   grow   up,   never   wear   a   ring   or   bangle   if   it   meant   she   wore   it   for   him.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Then   the   ancient   Väinämöinen,   sadly   angered,   started   singing. Sang   her   feet   fast   to   the   ground,   sang   the   vines   to   creep   around   her,   hold   her   fast   till   he   had   spoken. Then   he   got   up   and   stood   before   her---“

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             The   old   man   suddenly   sprang   to   his   feet,   shaking   the   floor   with   a   thud. His   eyes   flamed   and   burned   within   his   old   face:   he   was,   for   one   awful   moment,   Väinämöinen   himself. His   chanting   burst   out,   harsh,   driving,   filled   with   power.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“Maiden,   thou   dost   me   injustice, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Dost   me   what   thou   dost   not   know   of. ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Dost   a   third   thing,   then   another, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Dost   a   fourth   upon   these   others. ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   hast   dared   to   mock   my   wooing ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   hast   set   my   suit   at   nothing ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   hast   my   old   heart   now   taken ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Stamped   and   spitten   all   upon   it. ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Hadst   thou   good   reason   for   rejection, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">I   would   thee   have   given   freedom ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Taken   my   suit   off   thy   burden ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Let   thee   go   back   to   thy   mother— ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Shallow-hearted,   airhead   Aino ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Fickle-hearted,   shallow-minded ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   art   worse   than   thy   own   brother ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">In   the   injury   thou   dost   me. ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">I   should   sing   thee   into   mire ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">As   I   did   unto   thy   brother ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Pay   thy   scorn   with   endless   hatred ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Crush   thee   down   against   my   anger ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">But   alas,   I   love   thee   dearly ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">But   alas,   I   love   thee   truly ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   art   empt   of   aught   but   vainness ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Vanity   thy   only   substance ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Hear   the   weird   I   lay   upon   thee ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Listen   to   the   doom   I   bind   thee ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Scorning   me,   shalt   have   no   other ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Wandering   in   tears   self-pitied ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Sunk   and   wallowed   in   thy   own   self ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Till   in   sorrow   thou   learn   wisdom.” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “What   happened   then?”   said   Stephen.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “He   sang   her   free,”   Root   answered,   sitting   back   down,   “and   she   ran   wailing   home   to   her   mother. ‘Cause   enough   for   weeping,   mother,   good   the   reason   for   my   mourning.”   His   voice   took   on   a   fake   falsetto. “Mommy,   I   don’t   have   any   rings   cause   I   threw   them   all   away   cause   old   Väinämöinen   said   they   were   gifts   from   him.’   The   mother   and   the   family   tried   to   talk   some   sense   into   her,   but   Aino   went   moping   around   in   lofty   lamentation   as   if   she   was   a   tragic   heroine. The   songs   give   verse   after   verse   of   high-sounding,   noble   lamentation   with   mighty   words   and   candences;   and   what   is   the   cause   of   all   this   weeping,   what   the   cause   of   this   great   sorrow? She   doesn’t   want   to   get   married! Oh,   the   tragedy! Oh,   the   horror! What   a   sad   and   tragic   tale!”   The   boys   were   howling with   laughter. “Finally   her   mother   threatened   to   send   for   Väinämöinen   to   claim   his   bride   and   hand   her   over   to   him. So   Aino   stole   her   mother’s   bangles,   dressed   herself   in   her   finery,   and   wandered   through   the   Northland   forest,   bewailing   ‘Is   there   no   sorrow   like   unto   mine!’   For   there   was   no   doom   upon   her,   he   had   only   spoke   foretelling,   knowing   full   well   of   her   nature   and   the   things   she   would   then   do. Thus   at   last   she   fell   a   victim   to   the   vicious   water-maidens,   who   showed   themselves   to   her   in   swimming   on   a   rock   of   rainbow   colors. Aino   laid   aside   her   garments,   swimming   out   to   that   great   rock. And   the   boulder   moved   beneath   her,   bore   her   dreamily   still   singing   down   into   the   weedy   depths. There   they   changed   her   to   a   fish.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “So   she   died?”   said   Chris   unsympathetically.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “There   is   an   old   story   that   seems   to   have   been   tacked   on   to   this   one,   where   it   is   most   out   of   character.”   said   Root. “In   that   tale   a   man   lost   his   young   and   lovely   wife,   and   sought   the   help   of   Väinämöinen. The   sage   instructed   him   to   go   to   a   certain   lake   and   look   behind   a   rock   of   fishbone   wrinkles. Behind   this   he   would   find   fishing   gear,   nets   of   spun   and   woven   copper,   fishhooks   all   were   wrought   of   silver,   fishpoles   were   of banded   gold,   inside   a   magic   boat   of   copper. With   this   he   was   bidden   to   fish   and   drag,   up   and   down   the   lonely   water,   until   he   caught   a   fish   of   colors,   and   this   fish   he   must   kiss   while   his   dear   wife’s   name   speaking. The   lover   found   the   gear   as   promised,   and   he   trolled   the   lake   all   day   and   night. Three   days   had   passed   and   he   grew   faint,   when   he   caught   a   fish   of   rainbow   color,   and   forgetting   all   but   his   own   hunger   he   took   his   knife   to   flay   the   fish. It   leaped   from   his   hand   back   to   the   water,   and   there   it   spoke   with   voice   of   woman:   ‘I   am   thy   departed   beloved,   I   was   made   to   herewith   linger   that   thou   might   yet   win   me   back. But   thou   wert   ever   small   of   wisdom,   who   fished   for   me   for   three   days   running,   yet   did   not   know   me   when   you   caught   me.’   And   the   man   besought   her   to   return,   preparing   his   net   again   to   cast;   but   her   fish-form   faded,   her   faint   voice   wailed,   ‘It   cannot   be,   it   is   not   so;   one   chance   alone   wert   thou   permitted,   and   I   in   no   more   form   may   linger,   but   must   now   in   haste   depart   ye!’   And   the   husband   bewailed   and   lamented   the   passing   of   his   store   of   wisdom,   and   fished   the   lake   and   fished   again   with   no   more   fish   within   the   net.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “That’s   so   sad.”   said   Chris.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Is   that   what   happened   to   Aino?”   asked   Stephen.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Not   quite.”   answered   Root. “The   Kalevala   says   that   fisherman   was   Väinämöinen   himself;   but   that   is   a   corruption,   that   is   not   the   story   that   I   know. In   fact,   the   entire   Aino   story   as   told   in   the   Kalevala   seems   to   me   to   have   originated   as   a   mock-tragedy,   with   the   singers   being   fully   aware   of   the   silliness   of   having   Aino   lament   in   great   and   noble   lines   like   Deirdre   of   Ireland   (who   really   did   have   reason   for   lamenting,   with   her   husband   and   bothers-in-law   murdered)   about   how   tragic   it   was   that   she   threw   away   her   rings   like   a   spoiled   brat,   much   like   whoever   singer   has   to   play   the   verses   of   Youkahainen. But   of course   the   irony   was   lost   on   later   generations,   with   the   rise   of   this   thing   you   call   Sufferage   and   the   heresy   of   Feminism.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “But   to   tell   you   the   true   fate   of   Aino. Väinämöinen,   old   and   steadfast,   waited   south   in   Kalevala,   sent   the   birds   and   beasts   to   watch   her,   hoping   to   see   in   her   wisdom,   see   her   grow   from   her   self-pity. But   the   creatures   brought   him   word   instead   of   Aino’s   drowning   and   transforming;   and   sorrowfully   he   sang   himself   there,   and   sung   up   then   the   boat   of   copper,   sang   for   himself   the   nets   and   fishhooks,   hooks   of   gold   and   rods   of   silver. Singing   still   he   fished   the   waters,   sang   him   water   when   he   thirsted,   sang   him   food   when   he   was   hungered. Three   long   days   he   trolled   the   waters,   and   on   the   third   a   fish   of   magic   found   he   flopping   in   the   nets. Then   the   ancient   sage   magician   was   full   glad   of   her   condition,   for   he   had   found   airhead   Aino. Sang   he   her   back   to   her   body,   sang   he   fishness   off   her   figure,   sang   he   raiment   upon   her,   jewels   and   bangles   gold   and   silver. And   Aino   looked   at   Väinämöinen,   who   had   given   her   in   truth   now   all,   and   she   could   not   just   tear   these   off   without   tearing   off   her   very   life:   and   then   she   her   folly   recognized,   and   hung   her   head   and   fought   no   longer   but   gave   consent   to   be   his   wife.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “But   alas   their   union   fated   was   to   be   unconsummated,   for   as   Väinämöinen   and   his   maiden,   listless,   defeated,   on   saddle   before   him,   rode   across   the   inland   seahead   on   the   way   to   Kalevala,   there   to   be   wed   in   Wainola,   on   the   magic   horse   of   Osinen   which   rode   on   water   as   on   land,   from   the   shore   young   Youkahainen   smarting   with   humiliation,   who   had   heard   his   sister   perished   and   blamed   the   wizard   for   it   causing,   stood   with   hate   within   his   heart. He   took   the   longbows   that   the   wizard   had   despised   for   his   dear   ransom,   made   new   arrows   for   that   longbow,   steeped   them   in   the   blood   of   serpents,   steeped   them   in   the   adder-venom. ‘I   will   slay   the   son   of   Kalevala,   slay   the   wizard   of   Wainola,   with   the   longbow   he   despised. Then   alone   in   all   the   Northland   will   there   be   a   single   singer,   be   no   rival   of   Youkahainen.’   He   had   gone   and   hunted   long,   following   his   magic   tokens,   following   runes   carved   onto   bone-shards:   now   he   stood,   and   far   was   distance,   and   the   wizard   was   escaping,   passing   off   beyond   his   reach. Took   he   then   the   magic   longbow,   raised   and   aimed   the   fated   arrows. Shot   the   first,   into   the   water. Shot   the   second   far   above   him. But   the   third   was   fraught   with   hatred,   and   it   was   more   truly   aimed, and   sped   with   songs   of   aiming,   speeding,   it   pierced   his   sister   Aino’s   heart,   instead   of   that   of   Väinämöinen. She   died   upon   that   very   instant,   ere   the   wizard   could   retard   her,   could   take   in   breath   for   magic   singing   to   her   wounds   rebuke   and   seal:   nor   in   fish   did   her   ghost   linger,   for   to   be   caught   in   the   waters. Filled   with   wrath   and   grief   and   fury,   Väinämöinen stormed   the   seashore,   rode   upon   the   reckless   wizard,   who   more   arrows   vainly   speeded. But   the   fury   of   Väinämöinen   turned   the   darts   of   Youkahainen;   rode   him   down,   held   him   bound,   cast   before   him   on   the   sand   the   body   of   his   own   dead   sister.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“See,   thou   wicked   cursed   archer, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">What   thy   bolts   of   speeded   hatred ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Have   brought   down   instead   upon   thee! ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Aino   had   I   from   death   rescued, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Her   restored   to   her   right   body ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">We   were   to   be   wed   full   swiftly, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">In   my   land   of   Kalevala, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">In   the   fair   land   of   Vainola. ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   most   stupid   ill-aimed   archer, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Thou   hast   taken   thine   own   sister! ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Shall   not   leave   this   shore   yet   living ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Shall   not   sing   again   in   Lapland!’ ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Then   the   minstrel, Väinämöinen, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Bends   on   hapless   Youkahainen ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">All   the   power   of   his   chanting ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Great   the   thunder   of   his   raging ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Sang   his   hands   to   burning   fire, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Sang   his   features   molten   metal, ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Sings   his   heart   to   ice   yet   beating ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">As   the   torture   mounteth   swiftly ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Youkahainen   can’t   beseech   him ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Cannot   scream   or   beg   for   mercy ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">For   his   feet   are   sung   to   flintstone ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">For   his   flesh   is   sung   asunder ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Till   he   passes   to   Tuoni ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Till   is   sent   fast   unto   Hiisi ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Sorrowfully   Väinämöinen ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Lifts   the   lifeless   maiden’s   body ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Bears   it   up   upon   his   courser ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">On   his   magic   sea-wave   walker ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">''<span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">On   the   way   to   Kalevala ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Buries   her   within   Wainola.” <span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             Root   ceased   his   chanting,   and   to   the   boys’   surprise   tears   shone   in   his   furrowed   eyes.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Okay,   that   really   is   sad.”   said   Chris.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “I   like   it,   though.”   said   Stephen. “I’m   glad   she   was   sorry.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Are   there   any   more   tales   of   him?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Many   others.”   answered   Root. “But   one   is   quite   enough   for   one   day. Now   tell   me. It   comes   to   my   ears   that   Wayham   has   been   seen   by   men,   with   a   host   of   warriors. What   is   he   doing?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Oh…um…well,   it’s   like   this.”   said   Chris. It   took   him   all   the   rest   of   the   schoolday   to   relate   the   Dreams   he   had   had. “Oh,   and   I   forgot. I   saw   some   more   last   night. I   had   like   three   at   once,   and   I   would   wake   up   and   notice   it   was   dark   out   and   then   go   back   to   sleep,   and   pop   would   come   another   one. The   first   was   a   lofty   mountain,   green   and   blue   with   rounded   peaks   notched   with   valleys,   that   stood   alone   in   the   clouds:   I   felt   somehow   that   it   was   in   Wales—“

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Plynlinon,   I’m   guessing.”   said   Root. “There   is   a   legend   of   a   giant   bound   asleep   beneath   it.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “There   was. Wayham   appeared   with   his   army,   and   two   of   them,   I   think   Carpio   and   Lacplesis,   just   slammed   their   fists   on   the   slope   and   the   whole   mountainside   cracked   apart,   and   this   huge   manlike   thing   rose   out   of   the   ground. He   must   have   been   forty   feet   high. Earth   and   rocks   were   dangling   from   hair   and   clothing:   it   was   gross. But   Wayham   said   to   him,   ‘The   King   commands   you.’   and   the   giant   bowed   and   followed   him.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Merlin   laid   him   asleep.”   said   Root. “And   foretold   that   if   he   would   live,   he   must   yield   to   the   King.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “There   was   another. This   ancient   German   castle   rose   beside   a   river,   and   in   a   room   far   beneath   it   were   men   of   huge   size,   seated   around   tables,   their   heads   pillowed   on   their   hands;   they   were   in   Viking   armour,   with   round   buckler-shields   beside   them   and   hauberks   upon   them,   and   conical   Viking   helms   over   long   hair—but   didn’t   Vikings   have   horns?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “Ceremonial   helms   sometimes   had   horns.”   said   Root. “The   average   Scandinavian   had   only   a   conical   helm. No   horns. That   is   a   genuine   example   of   monkish   interpolation. Sceptics,   of   course,   are   inclined   to   call   most   of   Christianity   a   monkish   interpolation,   but   there   really   are   such   things. But   go   on.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">             “One   of   them   looked   up.”   said   Chris. “He   looked   right   into   me. And   he   said   in   some   harsh   powerful   tongue,   ''What   time   is   it   on   earth?    And   Wayham   came   sort   of   out   of   me,   like   I   was   a   ghost,   and   he   answered,    It   is   sunset. Wake   and   march   forth,   Ogier   the   Dane,   from   Kronberg   castle:   the   King   commands   thee!   And   Ogier   answered,    Who   would   lie   sleeping   when   the   King   has   returned?” ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “You   mentioned   three   dreams.”   said   Root.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Yes,   I   forgot. I   went   to   sleep   again,   and   I   was   on   a   grassy   plain,   with   odd   hummocks   in   the   grass;   it   had   a   strange   atmosphere   to   it. It   was   a   foggy   morning,   the   sun   had   just   risen   and   there   was   blue   sky   above   it,   and   it   was   the   sort   of   place   you   expect   some   awful   and   mysterious   figure   to   emerge   out   of   the   mist   from. Instead   I   heard   this   odd   echoing   voice,   like   something   spoken   long   ago:   ''All   Ireland   cannot   govern   this   earl;   then   let   this   earl   govern   all   Ireland. ''And   then   a   horse   came   stepping   warily   out   of   the   fog,   as   if   its’   feet   were   sore,   and   Wayham   King   was   standing   there,   he’d   been   there   all   along   but   I   hadn’t   seen   him. And   he   said,   Thy   shoes   are   worn   thin,   Geroid   Mor   Fitzgerald.   And   the   rider   answered,   ''They   are   thick   enow   yet. ''

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Test   them   then, <span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">   said   Wayham,   holding   up   a   rather   jittery   black   cat. The   Earl   took   the   cat,   ignoring   its’   squalls,   and   held   it   so   that   he   could   compare   its’   ear   with   the   shoes   of   his   horse.    Thou   sayest   rightly,   he   said,   releasing   the   cat. It   bolted   into   the   fog. ''The   shoes   are   worn   to   the   exact   thickness   of   a   cat’s   ear,   though   I   rode   only   every   seven   years   at   May   Day. I   can   ride   no   longer. I   can   sleep   no   longer   beneath   the   Curragh   of   Kildare.   And   Wayham   said,   Nor   shalt   thou. For   I   am   Wayham,   son   of   Finteine,   and   I   am   the   King   returned. Dost   thou   own   me? ''And   the   Earl   knelt   to   him.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Hmmm.”   murmered   Root. “The   banner. Did   you   see   the   banner?”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Several   times,   but   it’s   always   black.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “He   has   not   found   it   yet.”   Root   said   as   if   to   himself. “Very   well,   it   seems   we   are   a   little   late   today,   and   we   still   have   English   to   do. I   may   have   to   assign   you   homework.”

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Awww!”   wailed   the   boys.

<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;"><span style="color: black; line-height: 115%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">             “Don’t   give   me   that;   your   parents   wouldn’t   think   me   effective   if   I   didn’t   assign   more   work   than   you   could   possibly   do.”   said   Root   acerbically. Then   he   gave   one   of   his   odd   dry   smiles,   and   they   realized   he’d   been   laughing   at   them.

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