The Ballad of Arr’rin’s Trespass

Translated and interpreted in the Common Language by D.Prof. Dakan Throck, Trans-Oceanic Society of Ancient History

Twas once a man of mighty deeds whose name time hath forgotten,

save sacred texts of ancient days which name him Firstfather Arr’rin.

For before all others that bore his spirit upon the land he walked,

and with Him Who Made All Things did share in friendship and in talk.

Tall and strong he stood those days, glorious, without flaw;

from steely heart and sinew his honor did he draw.

A man of greatness and of stature, his legacy renowned,

he walked above all things that lived; great nations did he found.

To him was given love: the hand of Ell’en, oh most fair;

blessed was she in form and figure, with long and lustrous hair.

The likeness of a goddess twas said in mortal form;

indeed, with goddesses she walked as equal, mortal born.

Upon the land they called their own, for to them had been given,

to tend, govern, and to rule by statute, divinely written,

they walked together, side by side, inseparable, undivided,

bound by love, the first of any, two souls forever abided.

In those days, with them walked as friends and as companions,

resplendent figures of radiance, architects of the heavens.

Converse, they did, as kin and kindred, with Arr’rin and his wife,

as mortals did the soil work in toil and in strife.

To ease this good but heavy burden, to them were given gifts,

by great immortals who watched their work upon the endless drift;

for to such radiant figures there seemed no greater deed,

then the humble works of hand for which mortals did bleed.

To mortals was a single charge: to keep that which they held,

to hold themselves to truth, and never from it be felled.

And so it was, for years long past, together that they shared,

brought forth a blessed plenty and never once despaired.

Ell’en did conceive in youth, not one of them in vain,

one hundredfold, great sons and daughters, strong of limb and name.

Across the land they spread and built mighty things of wood and stone,

a family of steely spirit could never be brought low.

But while this family of renown did live and walk with gods,

there lay afar off from them two who cursed their staves and rods:

the once Fair Lady Lussine, for her treacherous lust condemned,

to lie alone, each day and night, until the Great Sea’s end.

And He Who Once Betrayed Her, whose name shall not be told,

for darker evil has never been then that of his black soul.

With hate he looked on mortal kind as they danced in joy and wynn,

round fireside and grove of trees amongst his former kin.

With burnt offerings they worshiped there, with verse and music fair;

with gifts they were rewarded so they prospered everywhere.

And as he watched them worship thus, he looked and did recall,

a chance there was to cause them one and all to fall.

First, he did confide in shadow and went with utmost haste,

to where Fair Lady Lussine lay sorrowful and chaste.

To her he whispered tales of glorious men upon that isle,

where to her had been forbidden in penance for her guile.

Such stories did he weave that day, of sinew, brawn, and mettle,

there rose within her such desire as could never be quelled.

Then to her he did reveal that chance most scant and rare:

that very day their kinsfolk would depart upon the air.

Rise on whistling currents they would, carried up into the sky,

to worship Him Who Made All Things in glorious heaven high.

And so, toward that forbidden isle her lonely path did bend,

to search therein for he who would her poor, broken heart mend.

Now while she went, ahead there rushed that sly and subtil liar.

Upon that hallowed isle’s shores he quenched his evil fire.

In its place appeared the fairest figure seen of men.

He walked amongst the mortals and struck to them a friend.

Welcomed he was ere he went at heart and hearth and table,

and spoke to them disarming words, of wisdom, tale, and fable.

To Arr’rin was soon given report of this well-met stranger.

Summoned him at once he did, blind to hidden danger.

Charmed the great man was by that the mysterious stranger said.

Fair Ell’en blushed with ardor as he bent to kiss her hand.

Amongst them then he did abide, a confidant held true,

and Arr’rin’s trust he soon did win with secrets that none knew.

It happened then as he and Arr’rin walked alone and spoke,

a malady the stranger perceived: a heart that now felt choked.

Fair Ell’en was advanced in years, youthful beauty begun to fade.

In the treachery of Arr’rin’s heart, his ardor for her allayed.

Into his ear was whispered lies to twist his honorable way,

and Arr’rin wondered whence he might find one with whom to stray.

The stranger pointed to him then the woods afar away,

there to search if his desire he sought to truly stay.

So, Arr’rin did go forth and search that maze both high and low,

until by chance he found a wandering maiden amongst the bow.

Twas lonely Lussine, come to seek a savior from her pain.

When she saw him love burned in her an unquenchable flame.

Then of herself she made an image of beauty beyond compare:

of shining skin, and ruby lips, and sleek, dark, raven hair.

So lovely she appeared to him, with dark eyes full of fire,

no sooner had he seen her than in his heart he did conspire.

They walked together through the woods, and soon it came to pass,

they lay beneath a giant tree, entwined upon the grass.

Arr’rin was then filled with joy, for in her he had found,

another to take as wife and partner to share in love abound.

Suddenly, the sky grew dark, a fierce wind began to blow,

and in the height of gentle spring fell flakes of bitter snow.

Arr’rin’s spirit filled with dread and for their lives he feared,

so threw himself upon her to shield as the storm grew near.

As he did a strange light shone from beneath him where she lay,

and looking down he saw the truth which stole his breath away:

no mortal woman he had bedded that fell and fateful hour,

but a goddess, resplendent, glorious, and from her he did cower.

Then a mighty bolt of lightning rushed down from heavens high,

and struck the ground so near to them he gave a dreadful cry.

From that bolt of lightning a voice it seemed there came,

a voice he knew, sweet and strange, calling out his name.

Then knowing who spoke, great Arr’rin did fall upon his knees,

and implored the Father Above to spare him for his deeds.

The voice then spoke, but not of his sin; it asked one simple thing:

“Where is thy wife, fairest Ell’en? She cries to me in pain.”

Then Lussine did understand that she had been deceived,

and wept she did for by her hand this wicked trap was weaved,

by he whose name shall not be said, who’d brought her to this shame,

who had now thrice betrayed her since the dawning of all days.

Confessed to Arr’rin of him she did, and he did rightly know,

the fair, well-spoken stranger this villain was surely so.

Then rent his clothes he did and from there home did run,

to find his house empty, his wife lost, and the wicked stranger gone.

One hundred-fold, Ell’en’s sons and daughters, young and fair and old,

went forth across the land to find and bring her home.

Three days they searched, from fells to high, over every crest and hill.

Nothing did they find; there was no hope that she lived still.

Until one morn as Arr’rin searched alone neath fearsome skies,

he came upon a cave most strange upon a shrouded rise.

This cave no man of Arr’rin knew; no natural fissure it was.

A gnawing, evil echo issued from fissure, rock, and walls.

Though darkness there lay heavy and the cold a bitter chill,

brave Arr’rin did draw his sword and charge with an iron will,

and in the deepest pit thereof, he found Ell’en, his wife, defiled,

by the dark and handsome stranger, fair of face but inward vile.

The stranger looked upon Arr’rin and smiled with his face.

Arr’rin in his wrath swore to make that cave his resting place.

The stranger laughed in wickedness, and rising to his feet,

peeled back the fair, false visage and discarded it like a sheet.

From beneath it shone his truth, most dark and wicked form;

a wrathful god, unmatched in might, to Arr’rin’s greatness a scorn.

Still Arr’rin’s courage triumphed seeing his wife upon the ground.

He cried and with his sword did charge the stranger with a bound.

The Nameless One but looked at him with hollow, empty eyes,

then Arr’rin was crippled in his foot and stumbled, agonized.

Crawled even then on hands and knees towards enemy, blazing bright,

who laughed still more to see the great man felled with but a slight.

Flames engulfed the dark one and he vanished without a trace,

Arr’rin’s sin left before him along Ell’en’s broken grace.

Carried her from that place he did and laid upon her bed.

The multitude of their children did bitter tears then shed.

Even Lussine when she beheld her wept, for in her she did see,

the echo of her tragic love, laid dead upon the Sea.

And the host of immortals did return from Him Upon Most High,

and knelt in reverent sorrow with tears and mournful sighs.

Fair Ell’en would recover, but in heart pained ever sore,

Sorrow, suffering, and weeping clung to her forevermore.

And Arr’rin’s wife, fair Ell’en, and Lussine, immortal disgraced,

would both bring forth new children of their tainted embrace.

The High One spoke in judgement then to Arr’rin, Once Most Great.

“Twas not content with love thy had, which brought you to this state.

So cursed now, you and your sons, for against her didst conspire.

Unto her shall be your troth, but elsewhere your desire.”

To Ell’en, “Thou didst not discern words spoken with deception.

Now, enmity will be in your children, and pain in your conception.”

To Lussine, “For this crime most grievous, your curse is greater still.

For taking that which was not yours, your affection bode ever ill.”

Finally, to the Nameless One, first-born of the Creator,

“No curse is there than that which you already bear the greater.

Henceforth, you shall walk always in darkness and in strife.

Ire shall be between yours and Mine to take from each their life.”

Then from there the Dark One didst go forth, and from that very day,

did walk amongst all mortal men to lead them far astray.

And Arr’rin lived in shame devout, of stature and honor no more,

a man brought low by foolish ears and desire he did abhor.

Of his nature ever was, and from that day forevermore,

Lame Arr’rin, fallen, short of stature, of spirit, and of worth.

Branded was he, by crippled foot, and all those saw him knew:

This is once great Firstfather Arr’rin, by darkness marked untrue.