Weda then came to a new task, his mind still remorseful of the murder of Auremir, Weda sought to bring life to the world. He reckoned the world needed caretakers and stewards, and so, in the manner before, he produced the first men. Yet these men came to be rough, quick to anger, and violent in their rage. The first men were cruel, heartless, and animals in all but name. Ranir was not satisfied, and so he destroyed them. The next were simpler, forged of stone and mineral, but they proved ill-suited to life. These second men were cold beings, prizing only rationality, prone to selfishness and isolation. They did not enjoy life; they resented their creator and their fellow kin, and for this, they were also destroyed.
The last group of men was even simpler, little more than rack and clay, washed over with the waters of life. These men, however, while violent, petulant, and prone to self-destruction, were moderate and temperate in behavior. Very sociable, they formed families and lived in harmony with their kin. Thus, the third group of men came to be the chosen people and were set upon the world in great numbers to safeguard life. And Weda cherished them and loved them as a father, he gave them tongues of their own and differing hair, differing skin, and differing minds, and for a time Weda was mad with creation and threw himself fully into their tending and their care.
And for by him they were created, their vision ordained above, their manner both visible and invisible to those who see with more than vision. He deemed them worthy of power, honor, and glory, for he made them of things of little worth, yet their spirits were the holiest of their nature, and no evil could unmake this. By his will, they were made, and the will of Weda could not be unmade. Whether the making of their thrones was sullied or glorious, whether they be clad in mud or gold, the lowliest to the highest they were in the making of him, and he poured his thought and his mind into them, and thus they came to be wholly unique, the purest in life yet imagined. And he sang above them as they sprang into life, he sang a tender song to them as to a father to a child, and as they awoke, the song of Weda was the first sound their ears heard, and life came to them well.
For a time, they mustered out, spreading their number across the plain where he had laid them. That plain they named Eurmiea, the Golden Field, and there sprung the nations of Men in their infancy. Of their count, twelve were made chief, and they were Ikusnem, Eruk, Harmun, Milatsuna, Ulermena, Oherea, Balaiol, Aegin, Askaratsun, Eimpat, Arkimen, Indarun, and Itaro. And they were made and set to rule those who came to them, and they went forth from Eurmiea in bliss for a time. But so firm to the mind of Weda was the intricacies of their creation, that his attention was not paid to the schemes of the Eutunaz, who grew great in power very quickly. And the Eutunaz saw that which their foe had done, and they conspired together to be rid of them.
And the rough ways of the world were thrust upon them, and the Eutunaz came to parlay, to greet and see that which the great Alueai had made. Krónaðr, who was king, marveled at them,
"How has such a thing come to pass? How has the stroke of life fallen once more and produced such things so fair? Is not the world now free of evil?"
And Weda on high answered him, seeing a flicker of greed and envy in his heart,
"Why have you come? To marvel at that which thou wishes to exalt? Or brood over that which thee played no part in making?"
But at these words, the Eutunaz did not swiftly reply, yet before Weda, Krónaðr spoke and said
"We have come simply to see that which thy hands have made, to marvel and to brood, for we are a folk of creation as well, and to see such life is the pleasure of the Eutunaz!"
But Weda did not answer this, for he felt treachery in their hearts and saw lies at the end of their tongues. In a calm but stern voice, he said
"Thee have seen the manner of my work, and the sweat upon which I have toiled, but leave me to their care, I ask no more of you, get thee gone." And they departed quickly from his sight; lo, his sight could be departed from.
The Eutunaz returned to their own lands, their own law ruled there, apart from the light of the Aleuai. And they came to craft and tinker in the manner that they had seen Weda, but their craft was a perversion, and of all crafts, it was their most vile. In the heart of the mountain, their crafters and their artificers assembled, their magians and their smiths did also, and all the makers of the Eutunaz entered there, into that mountain that is known as Buranden. The manner of their craft there is not known, for the Eutunaz are a race of many secrets, and many mysteries were made there in that dreaded place.
Many times passed, but at once a rumble came overtop the world, and the Artzaina became fearful as they did not understand it. But Weda arose terrible, his form grew to overcloud the mountains, and his wroth emerged. Beneath the rumbling mountain sprang a being smote in fire, and everlong it hid in shadow. Of a new craft it was, forged in part by the potent malus and envy of the giants. For this was the first and greatest of the Kunkal, those imitative beasts of death and ruin. And out of this first of their race stretched, and its visage was horrid, its eyes were alit with fire, the shadow it cast down, for its height was so great, and its power seemed to come from within it. In their own tongue, they named this one Táramaðurinn, which the machine of war was deemed in the tongue of men, a name that means Man of Tears. For all who beheld this craft of the giants indeed fell to sorrow upon sight of it.
From its eyes, flame came and tore through the rock of the mountain, and out it came with a violent burst. Its power was so great that even fair Weda, whose wrath was great, stumbled back in fear of it. Yet it acted quickly, and it set itself against the rabble of the Artzaina who saw it and knew a new fear so great that they fled in all directions.
And Weda, who had come down and had come to sense, came to the Eutunaz, who marveled at their work, and he cried out in a loud voice,
"What is this? What have you done?"
Yet he and they knew well what they had done, and evil had indeed come to the world, and the wicked deeds of the giants scattered the race of Men, whom they bade die, for the crimes done to them by the Aleuai. And they retreated quickly from Weda, whose rage grew to such an extent that his form became monstrous and terrible. They fled from him in their victory as his rage nigh consumed him. =
And so the fathers of the Eutunaz bid that they should be lords of the world, and Krónaðr, their king, spoke aloud in a great voice,
"For we shall blot out those deemed the Artzaina, they who were created by the great slayer, for upon their faces I see but the face of death and treachery. For under the power of the Eutunaz, all that was given this false life shall perish from the world!"
And at this, it began, the Age of Fear in which little could be done as the machinations of the Eutunaz were nigh fulfilled, and Man became hunted by the ever-growing number of the Kunkal in all corners of the world. Devastation rose like a tempest and descended upon Men; fiery and hot was this storm, and its gaze was drawn to all the land of the world. It pursued, it did not hunger, nor thirst, nor sleep lest its mission not be fulfilled. Such was the terror that the memory of it has not yet left that imagining of Men, for fear of the Kunkal would ever rest upon their mind, their slayers, their shepherds of death, and their eternal hunters. Weda could do little but safeguard them, for the power of them was so great as to cause him fear, and like a storm of untold wroth, they cast their terror down and smote those beneath it with unholy fury. The end of all flesh was deemed to have come; no ceasing was seen, as even the bones of the fallen were ground to dust beneath the sooted black heel of the Kunkal as they marched on.
But Weda the lord strove among them, and he spirited them to safety whenever he could, and to them, he made a pact that he would never abandon them, and that their fate was not to perish to the white fire of the Eutun's war dogs, but to arise from suffering and truly inherit the world.
"My spirit shall strive with Man forever. For the intent of Man's heart, I deem good, their mind is well, and their spirits yearn for freedom, for as the mountains shake, and the rivers are turned to dust, and the fields are razed and ruined, my love for my children shall never be removed, and this pact I make shall never be removed so long as the world remains, so I say."
And Weda's power descended over them and into them, and the Doom of the Eutunaz came upon them, yet it was not doom for them but ascension, claimed then and destined for another time. And wherever death was coming to those doomed to die, Weda cast aloft a gentle wind that alerted them to this, and they were able to forsake the place they were and hide and flee in time to be granted leave of death.
Part II
The Dögun of the Eutunaz
And the Eutunaz furthered work on a great project, a great and shining city sprawling far and wide. By the meager hands of the Men in chains beneath them, and by the work of their own craftsmen, the making of Mikilhuld began. Praiseworthy it was, glorious and strong were its walls, wide its streets, and high its towers. A shimmering realm, for the self-suffered children of Aurelmir the slain. And their marvel was constructed in the four-hundredth year of Krónaðr's reign. Beneath gray hair, a gilded crown of glory was placed atop his head, and he commanded high from his throne that the world was the domain of his race, and as their second father since the culling of their first, commanded all to praise him.
Up to Ungerhaf, the encircling moat, more as an encircling sea it was, as Mikilhuld's size was thus that it dwarfed all settlements of Men in any age. Its towers were as thick as the mid-summit of mountains, the rich order of minerals atop them glimmered in the sun and shone down in the moonlight. The Auldrnal, the wide wall of the city was nigh a mile thick, untouchable by all means of destruction, and of such strength it was deemed not even the Aleuai could penetrate them. Thirteen towers sat atop the walls, they were called Endindur, Darvindur, Lanvindur, Tuorvindur, Gelvindur, Afelvindur, Duinvindur, Stórivindur, Sverlikvindur, Kjarnivindur, Asnavindur, Lamðurvindur, and Siðastuvindur. Their height made the vision atop them unhindered, and one could spy the corners of the world at their peak.
The Eutuns trod long alleys between the three hills of the city, this was their home, sanctuary from outside evil, from outside powers who wished them ill. Such majesty was Mikilhuld in these days, gleaming pearl white was the palace of the artificer Voldugr, second of the Dögun and the great magian of his people. Atop the great palace he conjured his magics and his scryers chanted amid billowing bonfires. There they sought a vision of the times to come, there they wished to spy that which had not yet occurred, and in this, they were unsuccessful. And beside the iron gate of Iysnget, Hrunir the youngest stood, the proud and glorious thegn of his brothers who had deemed him stout and valiant.
Part III
The Great War
But the actions of the Aleuai were not simply of small things and small deeds, for in seeing the suffering of the Artzaina, Weda had called many of their number there to the high hall of Aeluala and gathered the full host of the Aleuai, and the Ostalara, the armies of the lesser kin of the Aleuai, the stewards of the joyful fields and the silent lands. For there among the council of the lords of the world, Weda arose to speak and before them, he crowned his brother Burrun and anointed him in splendor. For there he was again given domain to command the Aleuai, and he again was deemed the war chief of the Ostalara. And arose then Burrun, clad fully in splendid armor, full of vigor and might, with war-lust looming in his eyes and fury in his heart. For as Weda was fatherly to Men, Burrun was akin to an elder brother, and he placed the protection of Men from the tyranny of giant hands upon his shoulders. The host of Ederice descended once more into Aelutea, and a new war was made against the Eutuns for their crimes.
But mighty too were the lords and warriors of Mikilhuld, and its walls were strong and withstood anything borne against them. It was such that the great host of Ederice slammed against the Auldrnál and withstood them, bending but never breaking against the storm of Burrun's red rage. And the number of the Ostalara remained beside the Auldrnál, and by the command of Burrun, a great tempest had come down upon its walls. Eight times did the Ostalara besiege and bring down its full weight against the Auldrnál, and each time the great wall of the Eutunaz withstood them.
Yet greatly different were the Eutunaz than they had been during the first war with the Aleuai; now they had many greater numbers, and their knowledge and lore had made them wise in war-making. As they had made the Kunkal, so too did they make new beings to serve them, the draigs. Great lumbering beasts of strength and power, they plowed the land atop four legs as sturdy as boulders, and from their maw, they spat flame. Three of magnificence were bred by Krónaðr's own son Nidgram. These were the three draigs of the three Dawn Kings, the brothers Krónaðr, Voldugr, and Hrunir, Basdūh the Black, Frannsach the White, and Ainiargus the Red. Powerful was the host of the giants, and with their roaring beasts of war, they proved themselves capable of meeting the Ostalara in the field.
And at the ninth coming of the armies of heaven, the Eutunaz and their draigs burst forth from the black gate beneath Turovindur, the great war steeds of the Dögun issued forth. Atop their steeds were the dawn brothers, and they made swift work of some, as their number drove through the wilds around the fields of Folinreit. Few alone among the Aleuai knew of the manner of these creatures who came along and fought beside the Eutunaz. For when the first cry of Frannsach, the silver draig of Voldugr, was heard, fear followed.
But one of their number did not flee at this hour; this was Lorat, son of Errandea, and at the roar of Frannsach, he remained unmoved. A tumult of fire erupted from the war beast, but once more, Lorat stood unmoved, fierce in gaze; he moved as swiftly as the fiercest wind. In moments, he came atop the head of the draig and enchained it with a bridle of clear iron, and, clutching it by the neck, wrestled Frannsach to the ground by the strength of his grip. Slammed hard into the earth was the beast, and once more it raised itself to try and smite him, but his grip was hard, and he closed shut the maw of the dragon, and no more did it spit fire upon him.
And Burrun, his grandfather, cried aloud in pride at the sight of him. So he claimed this as his prize, one of the three greatest dragons to have ever walked the earth, stolen from the prized stable of Voldugr, dawn king of the Eutunaz, who never let his ire of the Aleuai simmer. Lorat's deed was retold in the hall of Aeluala once every year upon the coming of midnight, and since he has been called Herenotztu, Lorat Dragontamer.
And in this great battle at Folinreit, Burrun came upon Basdūh and its rider Krónaðr, who had unleashed the evil of the Kunkal upon Man. There, Burrun threw down the armor he had worn and approached the king and his steed bare-chested. And he grappled with Krónaðr's black warbeast, the largest and most dreadful of all the Draigs of Mikilhuld. Basdūh the Black was ferocious indeed, and he contended well with strong Burrun, lord of the host of Balihan and war chief of the Ostalara. Yet the beast indeed could not contend truly with him, and soon was overpowered by the might of the bane of giants. For as Burrun pinned the beast upon its back, he tore from it one of its wide wings, and threw the beast down with a thunderous crack. There he bid those of the Ostalara to enchain Basdūh, and the draig was made to suffer the indignity of what came next. Burrun came upon Basdūh's rider, King Krónaðr, who had fallen and awoke to the sight of Burrun before him, whose battle lust had reached new heights upon his victory against the black draig. He was a terror to behold, and before him was the enemy of Men who had caused so much strife.
"War Spreader thee have named me, I beckon thy people now call me Kingbreaker!"
Thereupon, that field did Burrun break the body of the king, the first king of the Dawn, with a mighty fall of his fists clenched. When the battle ended, many of the Eutunaz ventured out to the field in search of their king, and when they discovered him, many did not believe what had been done to him. A ruinous state was their king in, and they took him behind the safety of the Auldrnál as he still drew breath. But nothing could be done, and Krónaðr passed in the night. Voldugr, his brother, came to the kingship then, lord of the Eutunaz and second of the Dögun. At the coming of the next day, he parleyed and came to the chief of the Ostalara in peace. Voldugr wished for peace, and upon the word of Weda, who had come, peace was made.
The Eutunaz were to cease their use of the Kunkal in hunting Men; they were to make peace with the Artzaina and come back into fellowship with the Aleuai. Two gifts were given by the making of Marinen the Smith, gifts freely given to both the Eutunaz and the Aleuai. Magan, so it was named, was given to Burrun, who alone of the Aleuai could wield it. Hristari, its twin and opposite, was gifted to the lone giant capable, to the friend of Weda who had dwelled in Ederice among the Aleuai, to Attagur was this weapon given—dreadful weapons, each capable of deterring the imposition of the other. Thus, a dreadful peace came, not with words, nor marriages, but by fear, and fear would ever take hold of the thought of any who wished again to make war upon the other. This Second Ezinake was to be unbreakable; it was to be eternal, for no such war between the Aleuai and the Eutunaz again could be made if either wished to dwell again in the world.
Part IV
Benrir, Falahir, and the Falarein
During the reign of Voldugr, from the infernal forges of the giants in the younger days of the world, two in partnership came to a craft of great importance in the story of Men. Benrir, the man, and Falahir Himlungssen, the giant and a crafter of greatly prized weaponry, had been thrust upon one another, and by their partnership, the sword Frelsi came into being. In the age of the Eutun Dawn Kingdom, the smiths of Mikilhuld were prized as the greatest of any age of the Eutunaz race. By giant sorceries, the Eutuns fashioned blades and armor of such splendor that has never been matched by Man, nor Fae, comparable to only the crafts of Marinen himself. Of their number, it is said that the greatest of them was one known as Falahir, son of Himlung. Himlung’s son was a gentle soul, creative and unique in temperament compared to the vanity of many of his people in those days. Soft at heart, Falahir pitied the state of men during that age as they toiled in servitude, doing as the giant bid them. One such servant was a downtrodden man by the name of Benrir, who was born in shackles in Mikilhuld. Benrir came to serve the smith Falahir, and the two are said to have begun a great friendship in that time when such things were not to be. As they toiled together, they came to uncover many things about one another, and their friendship is said to have been the first between man and giant.
As his heart was not hardened by the plight of Men, Falahir hatched a scheme to free Benrir and many of the slaves of Mikilhuld. Falahir and Benrir began forging a sword for Benrir to wield in the escape, a thing not permitted by Eutun law. This was to be a sword of such quality that its crafting began and ended as the duration of the details of their plot came to fruition. Together, the pair laid a trap for the great draig Basdūh, the winged steed of King Krónaðr. Benrir, hidden in a cloak of shadow made by Falahir, engaged the great draig as it slept in a game of words and riddles, betting his very life for a fragment of the draig’s fiery breath. With the final question from the mysterious stranger, the draig of the king had come to be enraged, and Benrir’s last riddle would bring Basdūh's rage further.
“Who yet is to inherit the earth, those mortals born and fashioned before the dawn, by the high ones themselves?” As the draig had no knowledge of such things not taught to it by the giants themselves, with a loud bark, the dragon answered, “Why the race of Aurelmir, those first mortals sprung into life!”
Ina rage, the draig spat out its molten flame in the very direction of the riddle-maker. Yet Benrir knew this and with an enchanted cauldron and mitts, he captured the very fire of the dragon and evaded the king’s steed as it attempted to follow him. It was then that the fire of Basdūh was the final ingredient in the forging of the great blade.
On the night of the exodus, the blade was given to Benrir, and he named it Frelsi, which in the tongue of the giants means Freedom. Benrir used this sword to escape and lead his people away to the west. As the giants became aware of what had happened, Falahir came to be known as the orchestrator of the plot. Hauled before King Voldugr in great binding chains, he was made to answer for this crime done for the sake of Men. Yet no shame lay in Falahir’s heart, for he knew what a great deed he had done, and he refused every question posed to him, staying silent until a noose was hung around his neck and he was dropped from the walls of Mikilhuld before all to see, a traitor they said, to his very race.
Yet Benrir’s people had fled, never to be captured; they journeyed far, beyond the western river Adwine, and beyond the vast plains of the Raorin where they slept in seclusion as day came, and under the vast tapestry of starlight they wandered far and free for the first time. For the first meager ease came over them, free from the suffering and toils of life in giant lands. Far did they go, many sights they saw, and many things about the nature of the world they came to discover for themselves. For this was the Falarein, the Long Walk, and many who became lost remained in that part of the land and came to soon speak in tongues of their own. Among them were the Gahten, folk of the trees who remained amidst the groves of the vast forest south of the little river Gelad. The Sivavi, who painted their faces crimson and marched to their own drums, further still south, where the air was hotter and the plains rose to valleys and peaks. There they made their homes, and their lands would become that of the Erahtesh of a later age.
The darkness of the east faded away from them, the wind eased, and fallen snowflakes brought no shearing cold to them. As Men separated, they bid them farewell, for no bitterness did they feel for the departing of friends. Over the vast hills and through the dense forests, through lands where never before had man trod, from rivers that flowed into the sea away, the vastness of Man’s world was made apparent to them. The sorrows seen and felt simmered away in time, those fallen were remembered, and their memories were kept close at heart. The path called them west, and those who went on remembered this well. The path led them to a place they could call home.
Benrir himself lived to a long age, his beard became long and his hair thin, age pressed its full weight against him, and by his last breath, he gave Frelsi to those who would succeed him, and he died and went to the long hall, and his road ended. Benrir’s people soon arrived in the refuge of Orh Oledhedd's bogs and swamps. There they would remain for such a time, and the oath Benrir swore to his friend Falahir, to remain a free people forevermore, would come to be the eternal oath, bound to Man for all its days.
And from this old world to the new, some came to leave the lands of the Old North where they had ever been cradled. As the mists and bogs of the Orh Oledhedd sheltered them, they journeyed further west and came upon strangers in white ships in the west. These Western strangers spoke with a strange tongue, they seemed ancient and wise, some men mistook them for the gods themselves and thought them saved. Some men deemed them demons, travelers from deep below the earth who had come at last to make them slaves once more, these men feared them and did not speak with them. Yet many hushed these thoughts and threw down their fears, coming before the strangers whom they began to call Langeyari Fae or Long-eared Folk, thus their race was called the Fae.
By these first meetings, some men decided to follow the Fae back west to their abode at the end of the land. There some stayed and began to settle in that land which they called Grudem and Laiuil. Men in those days learned very much from these Fae, for in those days, they learned music for the first time and together they came to understand each other and sang songs to one another. The first of their songs was simple and rustic, it did not compare in lyrical complexities to the later songs of theirs, yet it remained one of the most treasured things for it was the first thing shared between them.
