A myth

[SJAB]

This in not the usual thing I write, but I wanted to see if I could write a "creation" myth. The idea was to use the myth in a novel. It is also first draft, so most likely tonnes of errors. I have also tried to use a formal style, not sure if it works....

The Candlemaker and his Wife

Prologue, myth of the Lords of the Fay


When the world was young there was no order to the seasons. The trees knew not when to shed their leaves, nor the sheep to give birth to their young. All was chaos. The heat of summer withered the blossoms before they opened, and frost lay on the ripened head of rye. The Maiden Time could not spin and weave the elements of life into the future. In her desperation she called on the eldest of her sisters, Earth.


Earth was woken from her eternal slumber by her younger sister’s cries, and called out to her other sisters, Sun, Moon and Stars for aid. The three in the heavens too rose from their sleep, and gathered together, with their sister Earth. The sisters agreed that the seasons must be guided so that the Maiden Time could spin and weave. But no answer could they find, as how this might be done, and their sorrowful tears fell. As the tears tumbled free, the lost winds of the seasons wove the tears together into four shimmering strands.


One stream of tears was blown high and touched the face of the Sun. It was consumed by the heat. From the steam came forth the Fay Lord of Summer and his servants.


Another caught in the hair of the Stars and shattered, turned to ice by the Stars’ cold light. From these crystals came the Fay Lord of Winter and his servants.

The third fell across the Moon’s gravid stomach. The stream swelled and ripened, then burst open. From it came the Fay Lord of Autumn and his servants.

The final woven line fell across the dark brown breasts of the Earth. The tears trickled down, foaming with the milk that the Earth nourished life. As this tide rose, from it leapt the Fay Lord of Spring.


The sisters’ tears of sorrow dried. Great joy grew in their hearts at the sight of the Lords and their households. For now their younger sister Time could weave and spin. The sisters returned to their eternal rest, leaving the seasons to be guided by their sons, the Lords of the Fay.


Yet, the four Lords, mighty and strong, could not agree on how long each would hold sway in the world. To this end each courted the maiden Time, begging her for her favour. But Time was a free spirit, younger sister of Earth, Moon Stars and Sun, and knew that the years were hers to mark and shape, till she ran out of the elements of life to spin and weave.


She held no brother above the other, for, at this time, she loved them all equally. From Lord’s hall to hall she moved her loom and spinning wheel, so that for equal parts of the year she lived before each Lord’s hearth. But never in the bed of any, always her own mistress, and maiden still.


And so the seasons passed; each Lord guiding their order, and the maiden Time weaving their passage in the year.

[SJAB]

Then into the fabric on Time’s loom appeared a figure; man. Man rose to the challenges that Time wove into her cloth. More and more of Times’ fabric reflected man and his work.


The Lords of the Fay too began to notice man, and man in his turn began to understand the way of the seasons.


To the Lords of Spring, Summer and Autumn man was welcoming of them, and their season. The three Lords were not unmoved by man’s welcome, or to the words of praise, and gifts given.


The Lords of Spring and Autumn especially so, and they began to become boastful. For these two received the greatest gifts. Man knew that with Spring came new life to the earth and all in it, and with Autumn came the fruits of that life woven there by the Maiden Time.


Of the Lord of Summer man was wary. Man knew the world needed the warmth and long days to bring forth the richness of Autumn, but also knew to many long, hot days would destroy that richness, as easily as the coldest, shortest of days.


Man’s gifts to Summer were tempered by this fact and the Lord of Summer saw and understood. He felt no jealousy of his brothers, Spring and Autumn; for he knew without him man would not have the rewards of his labours in either season. For the Fay Lord of Summer treasured the smile man’s achievements brought to the face of the Maiden Time.


For the Lord of Winter man had only fear. The passing of the Maiden Time into his hall was a day of mourning. The gifts were given in the hope that Winter might stay his hand a few more days, not in welcome.


Winter saw this fear and relished it. He had no liking for man and taunted him with foul winds and bitter cold. The Lord of Winter knew man sought to stop feeling the glory of his season with fire and robes. It angered him. Man built shelters for himself and his animals to hide from the white finery of the season. This angered the Fay Lord of Winter even more, and he strove to keep the Maiden Time longer in his hall. He removed the southern facing windows so she would not see the sun rising higher in the sky each day. But she was not fooled and each night, when the Lord of Winter slept, would go to the door of the hall and call to the robin, then ask it when the sun had gone down. When it stood at the zenith of Spring she did leave, and move towards the hall of the Fay Lord of Spring.


The Lord of Winter demanded larger gifts from man than his brothers and gave them away to his servants, making them more powerful and greedy than those that served his brothers.


Of the other three, only the Lord of Summer noticed the growing hate of man in the Fay Lord of Winter’s breast, for he saw the shadows of it in the eyes of the Maiden Time.


One year became many and the boastfulness of Spring and Autumn grew, they had begun to believe that they alone should rule the year.


Then one year, at the turning of the season, the Lord of Autumn spoke to his brother, the

Fay Lord of Winter, saying, “No more shall the Maiden Time come into your hall. She shall travel from my home to my brother Spring’s”


“You cannot command her to do so, she is free and has chosen to spend time in my hall for a fourth of the year,” the Fay Lord of Winter cried, denying, that he had in the past tried to hold her fast in his Hall.


“No longer,” The Lord of Autumn retorted and ordered his servants to take back the Maiden’s loom and spinning wheel.


The Lord of Winter screamed his anger and struck his brother, killing him. His servants seized the loom and spinning wheel from their fellows and took it to the Lord of Winter’s hall to wait the arrival of the Maiden Time This they did, killing many of Autumn’s household and putting the rest to flight.



Winter took the body of his brother and buried him before the doorstep of his hall, for he knew that when the Maiden Time came she would ask if the Lord of Autumn had yet come into the Hall to bid her farewell. Winter could, with a truthful heart, say that his brother had not entered his Hall at the turn of the seasons


When the Maiden Time came to the door of Winter’s hall the newly dug ground beneath her feet cried out in sorrow. She asked the Lord of Winter what was wrong. He replied nothing and escorted her to her loom and made her welcome. But the Maiden was not deceived. While the Lord of Winter slept she knelt down and dug her hands into the soft ground.


To the Maiden’s horror she drew froth from the grave the heart of the Lord of Autumn. Shaking with grief and near blinded by her tears the Maiden Time knew that she had to save what was left of the Lord of Autumn, else the seasons she so ordered would again become mere chaos and man, the child of her loom, would be lost. She placed the heart on her spindle and drew from it the tears that had fallen from her elder sisters’ eyes, spinning it into a fine thread. This she hid it deep in her robes, hoping that one day she could return the season to the world.


Cold and bitter were the days that followed. Winter courted the Maiden with gifts and promises, but she would have none of him. He in his anger made the winter darker for man. Even the light from the fires man kindled could not banish the darkness. This darkness grew as the season moved towards Spring. The lord of Winter did not relax his hold on the world.


It was long past the time when the Lord of Winter should have taken Time’s loom and spinning wheel to the Hall of his brother Spring.


Spring came and stood by the door of Winter’s hall, demanding that the Maiden Time come to him and the darkness and cold be banished from the land. For he, and his brother, Autumn, would have it so. Winter had no place in this world.


The Fey Lord of Winter rose from his seat and said, “And I would have you the same as your brother.” And, as he spoke, Winter did strike hard at his brother, felling him like a young oak. Again he did bury his brother before the door, so that he could deny to the Maiden Time Spring’s coming.


Now, the maiden Time crept out that night to speak with the Robin, to ask small bird, when the sun had set. When her feet touched the disturbed ground, it again cried out in sorrow, and again Time did plunge her hands deep into the ice cold soil. As she pulled the heart of Spring from its tomb she did cry, “Woe is to the world, two of my sisters sons are dead, Winter holds me in his Hall, and the child of my loom will die.” She struggled to her feet and did again spin the tears from the heart and hid the yarn deep within her robes.


The winter raged, darker still, and man cowered in the dark, slowly disappearing from the fabric on the Maiden Time’s loom. The Fay Lord of Winter did sit before the fire of his Hall and did boast that soon all the year would be his to order.


The Maiden Time hid her fear and sought to warn the Fay Lord of Summer. When the Lord of Winter slept that night she did call to the robin. The bird she did command it to find the Fay Lord of Summer and tell him of the murder of Spring and Autumn, also of Winter’s plan to remove man from the fabric of existence. As proof of the vile act she did take a small strand from each of the yarns that she hid in her robes and threaded them in the Robin’s breast, the blood of which stained the bird’s feathers red.


The robin flew far, battling the bitter cold and with its failing breath did tell the Lord of Summer of Winter’s treachery. The Lord of Summer screamed his anger and grief to the heavens. He cradled the dying robin in his hands and did warm it with the warmth of summer. The bird rallied and swore that from this day on it would sing in the depths of Winter to tell all that Summer will come again. The Lord of Summer smiled through his tears at the brave bird and then turned his thoughts to what it had said.


As he paced before the hearth of his hall his eyes fell on the gift he had been making for the Maiden Time. He knew that Winter had removed the south facing windows from his hall and the Maiden did struggle in the dim light to spin and weave. So the Lord of Summer had taken good rope and fine beeswax and made a candle. He lit it with fire from the summer sun, so that within the radius of it small glow, winter and darkness would be banished. This was his answer. He would teach man to make candles; that they might survive a while longer. Then he could confront his brother with his crimes, and free the Maiden Time


To all the places man struggled to stay alive did Summer travel through the dark, bitter blast of winter with the small robin by his side. In each dwelling did he sit before a fire and melt the wax gathered during the last summer. With care he made candles and commanded that one should be set close to the door, forbidding winter to enter. Man thanked the Lord of Summer and pledged never again to fear him; instead at the height of his season, they would give thanks for the gift of light.


Though his heart was heavy with grief and anger, The Lord of Summer did smile, for he knew that the Maiden Time would see the candle lights within the weave of her fabric. But she was not the only one; Winter saw, and left his Hall to seek out his brother Summer.


The brothers met on a Tor high above the land. Summer asked his brother Winter where were their brothers, Spring and Autumn. Winter replied he had not seen them cross the threshold of his hall at the change of seasons. Summer answered that they were dead and buried before the door and bade the robin show his bloodstained breast.


Confronted with his crime Winter screamed he would rule all the year and take the Maiden Time as his wife and wipe man from her fabric. As he roared Winter stuck at Summer, but the brothers were equally matched and fought long in the bitter blackness.


Wounded and driven to his knees Summer reached into tunic and pulled out the first candle he made as a gift for the Maiden Time. Igniting it with the bright sun of summer he plunged it as a dagger into the breast of the Lord of Winter. The Lord fell dead in the arms of his brother, Summer, who did weep, fearing the end of all, for he had no strength or desire to continue.


The small robin did fly through the rage of winter to the Maiden Time’s side and did tell of all that had befallen, Summer and Winter. Leaving her loom and spinning wheel Time did clothe herself in thick robes. From the Lord of Winter’s stable she did take a sledge, pulled by a small pony. Guided by the robin she struggled through the snow and ice to the Tor where Summer lay, hugging the body of his brother.


From the body of Winter she took his heart. The wounded Summer she did lie on the sledge, wrapping him in many furs. Back to Winter’s Hall did the Maiden Time lead the pony.

Hard did the servants of Winter drive the winds and snow. For in their grief they sought to end the life of the one that had slain their master. Time did struggle, back bent, head down, forcing a path for herself, and the pony. The steward of Winter’s household did strike the breast hard, for he had profited much in his master’s service and sought now to take Winter’s place. The pony fell dead in the shafts.


Time cursed the sprite, saying it would pay as it master had for its evil deeds. She cut the harness from the pony and slipped the leather round her own form and dragged the sledge on, feeling the weight of her burden cripple her back, but she did not falter, or stop till the Lord of Summer lay wrapped before the blazing hearth of Winter’s Hall.


She cut free the elements of life from her loom and started to set it up anew. Time spun the tears from the heart of Winter and set it on the loom with the yarns of Spring and Autumn. Then taking her scissors she cut the heart from Summer and span that too, wetting the thread with her own tears. Carefully she began to weave, but the loom was set too far from the fire and she could not see.


The robin called to her from the side of Summer’s body, singing of the burning candle, which was still gripped in his cold hand. Time hobbled, crooked backed, from her loom and took the candle. She set it high. The warm light bathed her work, and she began to weave. Four hearts she wove into one as the candle guttered in the icy blast of winter. As the last of the wax melted away, the Maiden Time took the woven heart from her loom and sewed it back into the breast of Summer.


The maiden sat holding Summer’s hand till his eyes fluttered open and his breathing became steady and true. All the seasons were now in the heart of one Lord, four faces had he but only one mind. She smiled and stiffly rose, moving her now crippled body back to her loom, where she began to rethread the elements of life, but her fingers were clawed and swollen from the weaving of the hearts. She cried out in sorrow, so far had she come and now would fail. But the robin came to her side, taking a thread and placing it in the weft. Together the Maiden and the robin replaced the elements of life on the loom.


Body aching, Time sat down and pushed the foot bar, lifting the weft so that her shuttle could fly across. As the shuttle returned, the Maiden Time became aware of some one standing by her side. It was the Fay Lord of the seasons, “Come it is time for you to leave this place and go to my Hall.” Time turned her head and saw on the Lord’s face the features of spring.


She smiled and allowed him to order the removal of her loom and spinning wheel.

The seasons moved in order. Man came out of his shelters, but did not forget his promise to the Lord of Summer and when the height of that season came he did give thanks for the light of the candles.


On that night the Lord of the Fay his features bright with Summer’s radiance came to the side of Maiden Time and did bid her walk with him among the children of her loom. She declined saying that she could not walk far, for her back was now crooked and he should have a fair sprite on his arm this night not a woman warped and twisted in body and hands.


Summer did rebuke her, saying she was not crooked, merely bore the marks of her courage and he loved her. For without her deeds the world would have been lost to chaos and he along with it. He did not see her crooked back and hands, he only saw the bright candle of her pure heart in her eyes. Summer then took the Maiden Time in his arms and did love her as his wife and does to this day.

[Charyli06]

That was really romantic, if you know what i mean. I am a large fan of folklore. I enjoyed your language.

[Paradox 99]

I absolutely love Creation myths, and this one's a corker, Sue - works beautifully. I particularly liked the mythology surrounding the robin. Great stuff.

Considering you expected to see a fair few errors in this, I didn't see many myself - only these minor ones:

But no answer could they find, as how this might be done

Missing "to" after as.

but also knew to many long, hot days would destroy that richness

too

the Maiden Time became aware of some one standing by her side.

someone

[SJAB]

Thanks Charyli06.


Thanks Paradox 99. The too and to...hmmm, swore there were more errors in there. Glad you like it. I had this idea about a candlemaker, as during the 16th 17th century candlemakers travelled from farm to farm, small estate to small estate, over the late summer/autumn period and made candles for the lady of the house. Often her best candles of beeswax as well as tallow ones.

I wanted this one candlemaker to fall foul of one haughty lady of the Manor and be imprisioned and his wife, a weaver, trying to prove his innocence. To merge the creation myth with the story, so the reader begins to see that the candlemaker is the Lord of the Seasons about his travels in the world, his wife is the Maiden Time. And really the imprisonment is all a plot by the banished steward of the Fay Lord of Winter. He wants to destory them, set up himself as Lord of Winter and rule man. The world would be similar to 16th, 17th England, both in look, feel and technology.

As usual with my ideas I have tonnes of notes and research, but very little written. Lol. Just the idea filed away until I have time, if I ever do.

[Azathoth]

Hey, SJAB.

I really enjoyed it; it was unique, and actually felt like an authentic myth. I liked the way you structured your sentences - you've really read a lot of mythology, haven't you? Anyways, the only suggestion I have is that you take out the words "fabric of time" and "fabric of reality". That's kinda cliche.

Anyways, it's a cool story.

[FelineEyes]

Loved it and that's saying alot. Liked the myth itself. Loved the bit with the robin...Loved it all.

[SJAB]

Thanks Azathoth and FelineEyes for the comments.

[dustinzgirl]

I love the traditional feel of it. Excellent and really pretty for lack of a better term.