Tag Archives: story

Wayland: Silver-Smith of Souls…

The Silent Eye

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There are a number of intriguing aspects to the legend of Wayland Smithy…

The earliest written sources appear late and are decidedly piecemeal.

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Wayland is the son of a God, Giant, or King of the Otherworld.

He is schooled in metallurgy by Dwarves, whom, in skill, he quickly surpasses.

He lives, hunts, and works alone in a region associated with wolves and bears.

One day he comes upon a swan-maiden bathing skin-less.

He finds her skin, appropriates it, and she lives with him for nine years.

At the end of which time she discovers her hidden skin and flies away.

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Wayland is then taken captive by the King of Sweden,

maimed to prevent escape and set to work on an island…

Wayland surreptitiously kills the king’s sons, turns their skulls into goblets

and presents them to the king and queen.

Their teeth he turns into a brooch…

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The Initiate…

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I dream of light-flowers erupting from hilltops and wake up feeling refreshed and looking forward to our planned trip to the Uffington hill carving and Wayland’s Smithy despite the gloomy weather.

I cannot really blame Wen for this one because it was my idea but even that was strange… its passage from idea to manifestation took place like the growth of some improbable multi- faceted Chrysanthemum…

First there was Lee telling me about his trip to the famous long barrow and me waiting and waiting and expecting at any time some inkling as to the naming of the place.

I had previously disclosed to him the Raven-Stone hidden at Hordron‘s… and had felt sure that he would be on the lookout for something similar but if he had been then he obviously did not find it.

Then again Lee did not really appreciate the ramifications of the Raven-Stone.

Who would?

I am not sure I do, completely.

It is difficult to grasp that the way the ancients saw the same things we see was so radically different… I had been slightly envious of Lee getting to Wayland’s before me but that envy was assuaged somewhat by his apparent lack of discernment and the small… still… voice… telling me that it was not yet time and that the timing of these things was almost as important if not more important than any kind of discernment.

And then the Wayland’s image kept turning up when it did not really fit… I had been experimenting with images and quotations and linking them through meditation.

It appeared that while words appeal primarily to the intellect, images are intrinsically more emotionally charged but repeated use of the two in conjunction can afford an approach to the fusion of these two normally separate centres.

The images were predominantly culled from works of art with the exception of the Wayland image which was simply a photograph… of place!

It was incongruous but insistent…

‘…What do you really want from the use of this image?’

‘I want people to visit the site as a prelude

to embarking upon their new spiritual journey.’

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Across moorland…

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These strange, narrow tracks betoken something,

processional, perhaps…

exhaling us where they do

with little work to accomplish.

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Would we have found them without

Ballowal Barrow or Boscawen-Un?

And even if we had,

would they still have been the same?

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“I think that’s what people mean, by tangential.”

 

Yet another disappearing stone…

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“It’s got a ‘wen’ in it!”

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And if we had not already twigged

that really should have clinched it!

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“How are they pronouncing it anyway?”

“‘Bosk-a-Noon’ – ‘The House of the Elder-Tree.'”

“They’re ignoring the ‘wen-bit’ then.”

“Or, we could just call it hidden.”

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“How do they do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make a stone that size disappear.”

“Well, at least it’s not yet started walking…”

“Or dancing…”

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By the time we left, though,

all the stones in the circle had begun,

what we call, ‘morphing’…

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And somewhere a horn was sounding.

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“If I didn’t know better,

I’d say the Wild Hunt was abroad.”

 

Morrow…

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…Well, if they did,

they also intended us to work for it.

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Part of our problem proved to be scale.

What we call a lay-by is large and well marked.

What they call a lay-by is more of a ‘passing-point’…

And on a fast road, is easy to miss,

or pass-by, which we did,

at least three times whilst actively looking for it.

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Another part of the problem

is sign-posts disguised as fences.

Cunning that.

Anyone would think that they do not really want visitors to find

Boscawen-Un…

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But as we were about to discover,

some experiences are well worth working for.

 

 

More sea mist…

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After our pre-historic village and our cause-wayed isle,

we return to Lands End, ostensibly, to at least,

again, consider ‘doing-the-touristy-thing’…

Only to find that our dragon has been dining out on pea soup

and that the parking charge would in all probability be wasted…

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We know that Carn les Boel is on the coast

and that from there Lands End is visible,

but whether Lands End would be visible in this,

even from Lands End, is another question altogether…

Ballowal Barrow presents itself as a convenient ‘half-way house’,

which is at least sign-posted, so we head for that instead.

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‘It’s that way’…

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Belerion…

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…Penzance seems unimpressed with our presence.

The thick veil of mist and mizzle thrown up on our arrival has,

by sun-up, intensified and is now accompanied by a sea-chill…

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If our hotel room had any windows

we would be able to see St Michael’s Mount,

but the tide is at present unfavourable

and we will not be able to get there until after-noon…

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With more than a goodly number of sites to go at,

many of them close to major routes,

we are not expecting our morning to be idle…

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