Molag Bal: a poem attributed to Gonsborg gro-Lanag
Editor’s note: “Molag Bal” first appeared in the “New and Complete Poetical Anthology” published in 3E 47 by the Scribes’ Guild. The editors of the Anthology claimed to have copied the poem from an anonymous manuscript, which has now been lost, and identified its author with the mythical poet Gonsborg gro-Lanag, probably because of the contents of the third part of the poem.
According to legend Gonsborg gro-Lanag was an Orc who fled from the stronghold where he belonged and went around Tamriel writing poems. The works attributed to him include poems of Orcish theme but without the phonemic structure of Orcish poetry and poems in imitation of traditional Orsimer poetry that mocked Orcish customs. Scholars are divided on his figure: some argue that he was a real individual who authored the poems attributed to him, while others posit that he is a historical fiction to whom have been attributed anonymous poems from other diverse authors.
Whoever its author, “Molag Bal” represents a rare poem which we are lucky to copy here today for your amusement.
Molag Bal
I
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As I descended down Coldharbour wretched,
those eyes of mine, they saw the stolen world.
My fearful steps I brought to a dreadful stretch,
a podium, rows of singers were there furled.
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All blinded chanters were there laid to see.
Their pain was cruelly metric, wounds as verse.
As many were as salt has Inner Sea,
all locked in never-ending cruel rehearse.
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The first of rows was made of children’s kin,
their souls mere border, nothing filled, not seen.
The second row, the youths of various skin,
no future coming, nothing cared or keened.
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The third of rows was made of seers of years,
by earliest deeds are obsessed, self-enslaved.
The fourth of rows was made of oldest peers,
No hope in what has fate for them prepared.
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I saw the brightest minds of Nirn in here.
I saw the mightiest warriors lay down arms.
I saw the craftiest thieves with nothing dear.
I saw the wisest mages deprived of hands.
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They sung: “Our fire and stone, our king and lord
when all is unclear, undecided,
the rule-less chaos you disendow.
Molag willing, nothing evaded”
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“We’re lucky, loyal servants! Huzzah!
Molag, our lives you fill with aims!
Molag, us guide to (y)our desires!
Molag, may long live your good chains!”
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II
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I first it heard, then seen it was, the light,
the motion, the force of thousand strongest winds.
Explosions paled! Their mother showed her might!
All noise was silent, shut by tonal sins!
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The podium down fell, chanters up and dead.
Dedicants gone, the dedicated came.
In right and left of mine I saw the dread
of thousand folks, they’d seen the very same.
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Molag, whose name is anaerobic milk!
Molag, by ardent kingship blessed!
Molag, whose name does predate silk!
Molag, in solid lordship dressed!
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Is always here, Molag, is never away.
Is never gone, Molag, is always in stay.
Is never knocked, Molag, is always sway.
Is always seeing, Molag, is never prey.
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Enormous body, greater might, Molag.
His deformed legs, perverted sight, Molag.
Protruding horns, all wrong, none right, Molag.
He comes, whose chains are spiked and tight, Molag.
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Was then, when blinded, when there was: an act.
Dremora armed with maces, riding fast.
Their steeds of flesh unblooded charged, they smacked
the heads of lookers, dropping down near passed.
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As chaos did rage, Dremora afoot did came.
Those felled they snatched, being taken out by their face.
The victims screamed, the course remained the same.
The victims struggled, when brought to such worst place.
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The daedric servants started to Molag climb,
they used the teeth of prey as climbing axe.
The victims cried, the victims howled, as I am.
No use, were held by Molag’s fearsome ranks.
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When reaching Molag’s head, the victims would
be thrown, to end at jaws and teeth and blood.
The Prince to feast in flesh and souls he could,
well served with struggling prey, worth a gloat.
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We saw this all, no hope was held by us.
Despaired doom became father, brother, son.
A river made of futile tears took path.
Our hairs were pulled, our chests were struck, for the gone.
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So great our despair, some did wave a white flag
By will they scaled grand mighty Molag alone
and threw themselves as willing prey, were snagged.
The rest did too surrender, all were gone.
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III
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Being alone, my knees did fell. I started to recall.
I remembered days of old, the stronghold left.
How stupid I was! What a senseless gall!
Our kin was made to resist, of lordship bereft.
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How went the sermons, old and wise and still?
“Mauloch, our Father, kin of him we are.
He gave us strength, endurance, and mightiest will.
For kind our love, for foes a deadly scar”.
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I ignored Mauloch’s teachings until that day.
The words of elders dawned on me, recalled.
“To act as them you must not, Mauloch’s way.
You shall not mourn their dead” we were always scold.
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“We stand in opposition, far their presence.
We are what they are not, that is our strength.
To obey Mauloch, his Code and our essence,
is holiest duty, to defend at great length.”
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“No other lord, just strength, stronghold’s and yours.
No other sense, just struggle, stronghold’s and yours.
No other meaning, just denial, stronghold’s and yours.
No other course, just fight, stronghold and you.”
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I remembered then, the reason for which I fled.
To live in denial is not to live, I thought.
One cannot by opposition be led.
At least, not opposition alone, as was taught.
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When leaving, these words I offensively said:
“Mauloch, whose name is anaerobic milk!
Mauloch, by denied kingship blessed!
Mauloch, whose name doesn’t predate silk!”
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IV
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Then Molag saw me pondering, said to me:
“Come to me, as slave of mine you’ll join the fold”.
I answered “Molag, I’m both the lock and key,
you shall not have me, Prince of lies self-told”
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“Are you denying me, fool? You wish to oppose me, immoral?”
“I shall so do, but not as negation alone,
I shall you oppose with counter-proposal.
Your power and sphere and words and deeds be gone!”
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Molag did smile, and laughing loudly he said:
“Yes! The kind I like the best! You please me to no end!”
The gigantic Prince advanced, I quickly fled.
We chased for days, my words I wanted to amend.
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Defeated and tired, I tried to say “I yield!”.
I couldn’t, I had no voice in me.
And then I heard Molag speak,
using my stolen dear voice with glee.