The Lay of King Rafn: Fourth Stanza - The Joke of King Iglaagr

In ancient times, as king Akur-Called-Aldjuunr came to bring people all over the land of Mungard under his rulership, so he sent his son, named Iglaagr, away to conquer the foreign lands ruled by the many friends of Good King Shorri who did not betray him, nor come to his doomed banquet.

Iglaagr had a mind for an orderly and authoritarian rule, and much disliked bright colors or music or anything. This troubled Shorri’s friends and it troubled King Rafn most of all.

King Iglaagr started immediately building orderly roads and walls and castles all throughout the sixteen-and-one lands, and it wasn’t long before Shorri’s old friends, who called themselves Dedrir, called a meeting in the hall of their most respected and oldest leader, a queen called Nottkona, who had a great love of King Rafn and his tricks.

“What shall we do?” Cried Asjurir, “King Iglaagr destroys all our lands!”

“We must look to knowledge to guide us,” Said Hermorjir.

“Bah!” dismissed Mehruunjir Dagnir King-of-Calamities, “you will die reading! We must destroy him and all of Akur’s folk!”

“Nay, unwise,” Interjected Molaagbr the hoary, “destruction is inelegant, we should force him conform to our will, that we could use his power as we desire!”

“All are correct,” Nottkona said, hushing the crowd, “we will use our wits, or rather, the wits of my good friend King Rafn, to destroy him by bending him to our will.”

All agreed that this was a good plan, so they dispersed, and Nottkona sent King Rafn out to think of a good joke to play on cruel King Iglaagr.

King Rafn had a plan, and it was so a good plan. A person of royalty cannot be struck down by the common man, that was the law at the time, only a fellow person of royalty could have that privilege. But King Rafn knew a secret, a good secret: Good King Shorri had a son, hidden away, unkown to Aldjuunr and Knur and all the other betrayers. As Akur’s son ruled in ordered terror, so would Shorri’s son rule in wonderful dischord.

So King Rafn flew to the land of Resdaajenheim where Shorri’s son was living among the Forandralfen and had taken the name of Jaardnsulr.

Now, Jaardnsulr was known for being a man of good cheer and high spirits, so King Rafn followed him for three days until he could no longer stand it.

“Wicked raven,” Jaardnsulr said, “why do you pester me so? Return to your high place and let me drink in peace and good cheer.”

“This place has enough cheer,” King Rafn said, looking over the town, then called Svarthugr, which possessed many corner-halls where the people would drink a foul wine called skeen and then spend their nights in bawdy-houses, “I know of a place that has none, and you can bring them cheer.”

“That does not sound fun at all, wicked raven,” Jaardnsulr said, “I think I will stay here.”

“Oh but it will be,” King Rafn said, “for you have the look of Royalty about you. I will take you there, and you can teach the people to drink and smoke and dance and play games. They will make you the king of good cheer!”

And this idea appealed to Jaardnsulr, and the spark of royalty within him ignited, and he agreed. So King Rafn spirited him away to a tower within Iglaagr’s own city.

People came slowly at first, but then more and more frequently as Jaardnsulr taught them how to enjoy ales and belly-magics and fragrant smoke. And on one night, when Jaardnsulr was in the middle of a grand orgy, King Rafn knew it was time to play his joke and awaken the royalty within him.

But Royalty demands a sacrifice of heart-blood, and King Rafn knew this, so one night, as Jaardnsulr dozed in a drunken stupor, King Rafn whispered in his ear the secrets of the Groenmjot, and of how to steal heart-blood, and Jaardensulr dreamed a great plot to become the new Ruling King.

A week later, Jaardensul held a grand orgy in his tower, and taught all the people of King Iglaagr how to smoke the Groenmjot. And they all revelled in debauchery until Jaardnsulr, intoxicated, ripped the hearts from the revellers as they burst asunder from the Groenmjot, but the revellers didn’t care, for they were manic and demented by the drug.

King Rafn flew to King Iglaagr’s palace and whispered in his ear, “come quick, to Saklijm Tower, there is something you simply must see!”

But King Iglaagr was unmoved, “begone, foul bird, I’ll have none of your trickery!” He said.

King Rafn spake again, “but my lord, they have ale and Groenmjot and dancing and pleasures which you’ve never imagined! It will be a good time, and you’ve worked so hard, why not to enjoy yourself?”

And King Iglaagr grew angry to learn that such things would happen so close to his own seat of power, and rushed to put an end to the scene.

When he entered Saklijm Tower, all of the party-goers were dead, and Jaardnsulr sat on his high-chair, devouring his own heart.

And Iglaagr grew sick from the horror of the scene, “what horrors have you visited on my domain? What madness?” He screamed at the sight of it, losing the composure for which he was so famous.

Jaardnsulr cackled and approached Iglaagr, “I am Jaardnsulr, called Sjograatr by my friends, Lost Son of King Shorri, look here upon my works, on the madness and the joy and the sorrow, all glorious and horrid and wonderful!” He shouted as he laughed and wept and choked on his own heart’s flesh.

“This cannot be!” Iglaagr shouted, angry and bemused by the display, “how could perfect order fail?”

And Iglaagr felt something he had never felt before: Confusion.

And Jaardnsulr-called-Sjograatr ripped the bones from his friends, who lay dead but laughing on the floor. And in Royalty, he made from the bones a staff, a symbol of Royal Office, and presented to Iglaagr on bent knee.

“I make from their sacrifice of heart-blood, a royal gift for King Iglaagr, to rule these lands forevermore as a Sjaat-Shaped-Hole upon the Aurrgard!”

And Iglaagr took the staff from Jaardnsulr, who died laughing then. And Iglaagr laughed himself at the nonsense of it all. And he laughed and laughed and danced in stunnded shock at the gruesomeness of the scene.

What Madness! He thought, that his enemies had slew themselves. What strange horror, I must honor this worthy Sacrifice! So he gathered their bones up that were not made into his staff, and planted them on the tallest hill in the land. A forest of suicides! He thought, laughing at the chaos of it all.

And he returned home, stopping at the cheese-makers workshop to request his palace be stocked with all manner of fermented dairy. And he decided to call himself Sjograatr in honor of the madcap who taught him joy. And he painted his palace with all manner of contrasting colors, and ruled happily over his kingdom for many years.

And King Rafn found a high perch in the new forest, and laughed a raven laugh. It was a good joke.