TESLORE Challenge: Excerpts From "The Ballad of Thødrek Troll-Song"

20th First Seed, 4E195 | Magickal Contributions from Cult Activity in Early 3E Skyrim: Thesis Notes | Marcus Vala: Seventh-Grade Undermystic, Arcane University

Today I received a new lead on some bizarre cult activity for this province that may even be running today. I can't help but hope that it's true; to observes an exotic ritual would be a major boon to my research! I was dining in a tavern in Winterhold, when a particularly grizzled Nord entered and began rallying the rest of the patrons. Like a proper collector of lore, I jumped at the chance to jot down his story:

>Bryla! Drifa vid mødositte hjot lie bryla gylden tal um thrud lof o ill urd. Vrag lod finnar skulna hofska nordar. Thet saga varnar um feiland manustrengthu. > >Iva fjør Heimskva Kong valvi fulja hrein kynefyll o uvra lof o geirearm valvi obeitat i brylva halde. Uvra nafn valvi Thødrek Grahlhjold. Faar frøsslar gandrar uve i thet gard, ak hyra valvi uvra føre o throk!

Translation: >Lo! Gather ye upon your mead-benches such that you may hear a tale of great heroism and even greater tragedy. Cruel it is that fate conspires to bring down even the proudest of Nords. Let this saga serve as a warning that the strength of even the greatest men fail. > >It is said that during the reign of the Mad King there was born a true son of Kyne whose honor and spear-arm were unquestioned throughout the nine holds, his name being Thødrek of the clan Troll-Song. Few winters did he walk our world, but rich they were in journey and fortune!

Here the narrator goes into various exploits and sexual conquests of Thødrek. I have set them aside for later translation, but it is the end that concerns my thesis:

>I ovipva hol vid finnarva gundir dwargisen hallar. Alffafne geilvi fram all staadar. Ogandrand vind beirva ill wil vid mannar thæt wilja ræf hød pfundar. Ak Thødrek gandvir forevid o uve vigvir uvra frykte. I uvra stig finnvir uve hildifjøl føl alfar...

Translation: >Deep in the hole without sight did the warrior find halls of dwarf-iron. The sounds of elf whispers called from everywhere. The wind that did not move held an ill will to those that wished to enter. Still did Thødrek go forward, fighting his fear. Upon his path did he come across a warhost of pale elves...

This was followed by brutal descriptions of killing falmer, which I shall not repeat here for the sake of decency.

>Ak uvra thrud sig valvi frodnt, for uvra stig beirvir uvre vid afn opp himmelvip hødva snærsk saad oppva fjell. I thæt staad vipvir bjartva nord følva alfar beitvi jora ond gud: > >"Ok, thrud Srib!" gallvi jo! "Vardva irje, for nie valvi knurbunt!" > >Balt botvir Sribva beit. Vidva afnstein gandvir grau draugalf fram ovipsk gard. Alfs kodra beirvir starnar o bathmildar, o uve beitvir ondudyr gunja uvre. Ak Thødrek valvi størn! Vem i thed staad vorar so størn vigna ondudyr fram Udyrgard? Ovem bætar ek!

Translation: >But his glorious victory was not to last, for his path did lead him to a temple that had sky-sight upon the snowy shore with the mountain. In that place did the Nord see the pale elves chanting to their evil god: > >"Oh, Great Xrib!" Called they! "Protect us, for we are but weaklings!" > >Soon were their calls answered. To the temple-stone traveled a grey ghost-elf from lands unseen. The elf's cloak had stars and tree-rivers, and he called forth demons aid him. But still was Thødrek stalwart! Who here would be so brave as to face demons from the world of monsters? No man, I wager!

Here, there is more less-than-tasteful violence, leading to a one on one fight with the apparition, where he was defeated, but not yet killed.

>Srib børsvir ohofskva gundir o malvir um dagar herr uve byldvir luker thæt uve ej wiljat vem vipa. Uve talvir um thrudva Ondudyrjarlar o jore halde. O sid malvir um heimsk mannar thæt gandvi vidva luker nak. Nak bryl tal snillvir Srib fryktesk Thødrek Grahlhjold o hødva nar leggvir uve høre thæt hjoldar um horsk mannar thæt ej veta sik vor heimsk gandra iva luker.

Translation: >Xrib bound the pitiful warrior and spoke of days when he built doors for no man to see. He spoke of great demon-jarls and their holds. He spoke of fools that followed. After much talk did the elf slay poor Thødrek Troll-Song, and upon his corpse did he place linens that sing of wise men who know not that they are fools to enter the doors.

I leave you, my colleagues, to ponder the implications of this verse.