The tales of the two heroes who will be appearing in the tale of Tellerin continues and ends this month with the second of the two. Hailing from the mountainous reaches of the Mjolnir Range is a common shepherd boy whose fate will take him away from his mundane life and make him one of the most celebrated legends of the continent. Here is his tale...
“You are just a shepherd boy!”
In the village of Dale near the mountainous regions of Mjolnir, lived a boy named Tamarig and like his father and his father’s father, he was a shepherd. But Tamarig was a dreamer of a boy, he dreamt of being a great warrior of equal worth, committing wild deeds of bravery and traveling the wide expanse of the world that the rest say lies just beyond the next peak. Most of all, Tamarig dreamt of joining the Pronterean Crusaders, a troop of elite soldiers who had the chance to battle fantastic creatures and defend Rune Midgard and keep the peace. Unlike him, the only peace he kept was between his flock and the creatures he fought were nothing more than a few cowardly foxes which tried to prey on his sheep.
However, his father and the village elders always told him the same phrase over and over again (and often with a note of finality), “You are just a shepherd boy, what use have the Crusaders have of you? Moreover, they only accept boys of royal birth, what are you in their eyes? You are only just a shepherd boy, be content and be done with it.”
But Tamarig was not perturbed by all these talk, if anything, it made him even more fired up through the defeatist words of the village wise (even his own father (!), how could he discourage his son like this, he thought), who in his opinion, only thought of how to make it to the next day and lived each day seeking only for the minimal. “I will break the mould”, muttered Tamarig to himself, but every time the youth thought of breaking the mould; life’s drudgery sunk in and drew him back into its folds. And many years would pass before something happened that changed Tamarig’s life completely…
The lost sheep
It was another one of those days that Tamarig took his flock of sheep out grazing along the Northern reaches of the Mjolnir Range where it is not an uncommon sight to see magnificent bluffs, cliffs and huge granite and sandstone structures all touched with the widest of grasslands that the eye could see. And hugging the entire strip of fields where Tamarig’s sheep grazed was Mount Frejya which was a whopping 15,000 feet in height and towered over the village of Dale at its foot.
However this time, he also took his friend, Belegund, along as he was not keen to spend his time alone in the hills. Now unlike Tamarig, Belegund was not a shepherd but the son of the local blacksmith who was only too glad to shoo his son away from the heated anvils for Belegund was an inquisitive boy; and someone who kept asking questions while his father hammered away was not something the sire of Belegund wished to endure the whole day. Furthermore, Belegund was not of age to be near anywhere in the smithy.
“At least I could use some conversation,” thought Tamarig.
And it was in the cool of the day when Tamarig set out to reclaim his sheep before he took them back that he discovered that one sheep was missing. Fearing that his father would be angered for the loss of livestock, Tamarig left Belegund to guard the other sheep while he immediately sought out to locate the missing sheep even though the skies were rapidly darkening. Stumbling upon the scrubby upper reaches of the highlands, Tamarig searched the nearby vicinity where he knew the lost sheep could go and through sheer experience and luck, Tamarig soon heard the bleeting of the sheep,
Smiling to himself for his lucky find he stepped into what seemed to be a cavernous cave that he has not seen before. Stepping into the darkness, Tamarig’s took a minute to adjust and spied his sheep cowering at the far end of the cave. The animal seemingly had a broken foot but how could an animal with difficulty walking stumbled on this cave troubled Tamarig and the boy had his guard up. Clutching his shepherd staff, the youth walked gingerly towards his injured livestock while speaking in soft tones to calm the animal. A thousands thoughts were racing in his mind. Could this be the work of mountain brigands? Wolves? Or worse…
Perhaps it was the dark of the caves that allowed Tamarig’s other senses other than his eyes to heighten to a point when he heard scrabbling sounds behind and on top of him. Breaking out of his reverie, Tamarig spun around to face a sight that he will never forget as Tamarig’s worst fears were confirmed; he had stumbled upon a lair of Argiopes, two of them in fact.
Catching his reflection off the multi-faceted eyes of the gigantic centipedes that were an indigenous predator of the Mjolnir Range, Tamarig suppressed his fears and swung his staff in a weak attempt to ward off the insects while trying to protect his wounded sheep. Hissing menacingly in their chittinous outer skeletons, the Argiopes were fully aware that the prey’s short staff would be no match for their hardened shells and lurched for the kill.
The first wave of attack saw Tamarig dodging haphazardly as he lunged low to duck the spinning mandibles of the carnivorous insects. And as the Argiopes reared up in preparation for the next strike, Tamarig aimed the sharp end of his staff and plunged it upwards towards the weak, soft links where each segmented body plate of the Argiope met. The move seemed to work as the wooden pole sunk deep into the centipede. Ichor splurted and the Argiope shrieked in pain and fury. Sensing the human has drawn first blood; the other Argiope lowered its head and snaked in towards Tamarig with a vindictive streak.
Having no time to recover from his first offensive, Tamarig reacted a second too slow and as the second Argiope was going to clamp its venomous jaws upon the youth’s head when a draught of cold air went over Tamarig and the insectile attacker.
“Spirit slash”, shouted a loud but familiar voice behind the Argiope.
It stopped in mid-action. A tear soon appeared along the thorax of the Argiope and slowly but surely the head slid off, apparently the Argiope died instantly before it could even touch him. The wounded Argiope however seized the chance to whip the boy with its barbed abdomen while he was distracted, and was similarly slain with a sickening crack on its thick exo-skeleton covered head; splitting it neatly into half. Its innards spilt all over Tamarig but he was otherwise unhurt.
Peering out of his ichor stung eyes, Tamarig was shocked once again by the sight he saw. His rescuer was none other than his father. An ordinary shepherd like himself but actually an expert swordsman with an oddity of a blade that he wielded; the older man’s sword was a broken shard of what was obviously once a mighty sword. However, it was not these startling revelation that stunned Tamarig, it was a rearing head of a third Argiope behind the old man that had somehow crept there unseen in the darkness.
“Luckily I got to you in time, Belegund came to look for me when you have been gone so long…”
“Father, look out! Behind you!”
Unfortunately it was too late as the barbed tail of the assailant struck the older man’s arm, no doubt injecting its deadly poison into his body. But the Tamarig’s father was not to be defeated, he swung the broken sword backwards with such finesse that no shepherd could muster and lob the head of the Argiope cleanly from the rest of the body. The wound was so clean that no ichor spilled. Spent, the older man collapsed as Tamarig rushed towards his father…
Note from the writer: Actually Tamarig's and Holieus' tales are my favorite chapters that I have written so far...I am really not sure if there's anyone who is reading this (although fame is not the reason why I am posting my stories), but if you out there has read Chapter 6 and Chapter 7 today, you will notice that the style of the prose is a little different as I am trying a new way to write my stories at the point in time a few months back. I was very inspired by the stories in Tolkien's Silmarillion that I decide to try my hand in telling stories with a soul and a feel of the times in them. I hope you like these two chapters, of course, Tamarig's story is a little longer and will be concluded in Chapter 8.
Yes, Tolkien had a hand in all these...
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