Kategorie: Pagan Parenting

One morning Beorl, the little land wight, wanted to leave his cavern to get a bit of fresh air and have a swim in a lake nearby, but he couldn’t get out. In front of his cavern entrance lay something. It was really huge, heavy and hard, and no pushing or showing helped. Finally Beorl took a shovel and built a tunnel under the thing. Once outside he took a deep breath. What in the name of all nine worlds had happened here?

Beorl took a closer look at the thing: It looked like a big hammer, with an enormous head from metal and some nice engravings, and a relatively short handle that still was rising high enough that Beorl could hardly see the end. Haven’t I been lucky, he thought by himself. That thing could have easily crashed through my ceiling! But how can I get rid of it? The hammer just can’t lie there forever. I can’t use my cavern properly right now!

Beorl thought hard. Something as big as this hammer had to belong to a either a giant or a god. Humans and spirits couldn’t possibly handle such a heavy weapon. And he hadn’t seen a jotun, a giant, in these parts for ages. So a god had to be the culprit.

He washed his face, because that was really necessary after all this shoveling, and started to search for the hammer’s owner.

The way to Asgard wasn’t long, and at Bifröst, the rainbow bridge, Beorl already met the first god. It was Heimdall, who guards the bridge.

„Have you lost a hammer?“, Beorl asked him. „I?“ Heimdall was surprised. „No, I don’t use a hammer. I have a horn.“ And he took a big horn from his back. „You see? But I mustn’t blow it until Ragnarök, when the worlds come to an end.“

But he let the little land wight cross the bridge so that he could search further.

Next Beorl met the goddess Idun who was sitting in her garden.

„Have you lost a hammer?“, Beorl asked her. „Who, I?“ Idun laughed. „No, I have apples, not a hammer. What would I need a hammer for?“ And she plucked an apple and showed it to Beorl. „Here! One of those will keep you healthy and alive for a long time. The gods eat them all the time!“

And she gave it to Beorl, in case he got hungry on his way.

When he moved on he encountered Odin, who was riding his horse Sleipnir. Beorl stopped the god.

„Have you lost a hammer?“ he asked and carefully avoided Sleipnir’s eight dancing legs. „I?“ Odin droned with a deep voice. „No, I don’t need a hammer. I have some ravens instead.“ He whistled, and two ravens sat down on his shoulders. „May I introduce you to Hugin and Munin? They fly around and tell me everything they have seen.“ But they hadn’t seen who had dropped the hammer in front of Beorl’s cavern, so Odin rode on and left the land wight fast behind.

He reached a house with ‘Fensal’ written on the doors. Said doors and all windows were wide open. Beorl, being a polite land wight, knocked first and entered. A fire was burning brightly in the hearth, and next to it sat a woman he recognized as Frigga.

„Have you lost a hammer?“, he asked her. „I?“, Frigga shook her head. „No, I don’t own a hammer. I always use a spindle.“ She reached into a basket, took a spindle out of it and started spinning. The thread made a bulk around the spindle, and when she let go, the spindle sailed through the open window, rose to the sky and changed into a little cloud.

„Oh!“, Beorl marveled the sight, and then went on, before it started raining.

On a meadow there sat the god Frey and was feeding his golden boar Gullinborsti some acorns.

„Have you lost a hammer?“, Beorl asked him. „I?“ Frey was surprised. „No, not a hammer. I lost a sword, but, to be honest, I didn’t really lose it. I gave it to my friend Skirnir, so he would bring me my beloved wife.“ He smiled sheepishly. „But I still have got my ship!“ He drew a piece of cloth from his bag. It didn’t look very impressive to Beorl, and he said so.

Frey smiled. „I know, but if I throw it into the water I transforms into a big ships with enough place for all the other gods.“ Beorl had to admit that this sounded like a cool trick.

It didn’t take long and he met the next goddess. Freya was going for a ride with her chariot. The cats that drew the chariot were meowing loud when they saw Beorl. „Hello! Have you lost a hammer?“, Beorl asked the goddess and admired her beauty. „What, a hammer? I?“ Freya shook her head. „The only use I might have for a hammer is as a trinket, and I have better things for that.“ She opened her cloak a little bit and showed him the sparkling necklace underneath. „Isn’t she wonderful? The dwarfs made her for me. In never go anywhere without Brisingamen. Not even into a fight. One always should enjoy the beautiful things in life, don’t you think?“ Beorl agreed and thought by himself how beautiful it would be to finally get rid of this hammer!

Next he met the god Loki. He seemed to take a rest, but he was wide awake when Beorl asked him his usual question. „I? A hammer?“ Loki smiled with a mischievous grin. „No, but I could use one. Why?“ Beorl had a weird feeling. „Ah, it was just an idea.“, he answered with care and hurried on. Somehow he wasn’t inclined to give this specific god more details.

He was getting more and more frustrated. He had been searching all morning now, and still hadn’t found the owner. Who might it be? Tired he decided to go home again. Just before he reached the rainbow bridge he encountered a god who had just crossed the bridge. Beorl recognized Thor because of his wild red beard.

„Have you lost a ha-“ he wanted to ask, when Thor quick as a lightening clapped a hand across his mouth. „Pssst!“, the thunder god hissed. „Make sure that no one hears us!“ Carefully he loosened his grip.

„Have you found my hammer?“, he then breathed into Beorls ear. The land wight nodded. „He sits in front of my cavern and blocks the entrance.“ he declared. Thor straightened. „Mjölnir fell out of my pocket yesterday during a race against Loki. If the giants know that I lost him, they will raid Midgard and Asgard in no time and cause chaos. Bring me to your cavern, little land wight! Let’s save the world!“

He got his goats and quickly they reached Beorl’s cavern. There lay the hammer, and hadn’t moved a single bit.

Thor beamed, put on a pair of gloves and lifted the hammer as if he were as light as a feather. „There he is, my Mjölnir!“, he shouted happily and banged the hammer on the ground. Thunder rolled.

„Little Beorl, let me thank you!“

„Not necessary!“, Beorl grumbled softly.

Thor invited him for a dinner with goat steaks to celebrate Mjölnir’s return, but Beorl was too tired after his long search. He crawled through his now open entrance into his cavern, fell on his bed and was fast asleep even before the god had left.

Right behind Uedem, on the way to Xanten, there is a hill named Gochfortsberg. Earlier the hill had an arrow shaped front that towered over the country, but that part had broken in ages ago. Some mysterious ravines go through the mountain slopes and in the bushes along the hillsides many birds are nesting. It is told that once upon a time a chieftain had his castle on the hill and that he had been buried up there with all his servants. But nothing can be seen.

Our story happens a century or two ago, I can’t get more precise. Life wasn’t too advanced and whoever wanted to visit the neighbor town had to go by horse or on his own feet.

So it did happen that the blacksmith of Kervenheim wanted to go home on this gray foggy day in September. He had had an important well-paid job in Uedem, but now it was late and he wanted to get home. Dawn had set in already, but he was a big and strong man, and the darkness couldn’t frighten him.

His way went across Gochfortzberg. His lantern’s lights were dancing in the ravines and threw weird shadows an the ground, because there was quite some wind and the tree branches were bowing to the wind. Far away he heard a hare’s cry. Probably an owl had caught her.

Suddenly he heard s a swoosh and a swarm of black birds rose and surrounded him,

Startled the blacksmith jumped into the bushes and ducked between the brambles. The birds circles around for a while and then rose higher an higher until they became invisible between the fog and early darkness.

Their croaking kept on ringing in the black smith’s ears. While he tried to get rid of the thorns he say something shiny between the brambles, something he had never seen there before. He held his lantern higher and -yes, he hadn’t misjudged. Under all these twines a door was hidden, and not just any door: It was decorated with heavy iron dress plates, very artfully done, even if they seemed corroded in many places.

The smith was impressed: Some colleague had done a great job with this door. But why, he asked himself. Curiously he shoved some more blackberry twines away and soon he found the door knob.

Carefully he pulled the knob. He was half afraid the rusty knob might come off. But the door opened without a sound and there was a dark tunnel behind her.

Our smith wasn’t Irish: He’d never heard those stories about dangerous fairy hills, so he just allowed his curiosity to lead on and walked along the tunnel. After a few passes he saw a light and soon the tunnel opened into into a chamber. The whole room was shimmering golden, with good reason: The floor was covered with the finest carpeting. Coins, jewels and golden cups were stacked in cupboards along the walls. But most impressive was the golden throne standing in the middle of the room.

The blacksmith was quite surprised when he saw that the room wasn’t lifeless. A man was sitting on the throne, a very old man sporting a long white beard. And next to the throne there was another man in a servant’s uniform that might have been modern ages ago. Both seemed to sleep, but when smith came closer, the man on the throne stirred and opened his eyes. His facial features became smoother and all of a sudden he seemed far younger than before. He straigthened upand now the smith saw that he wore a kind of tiara decorated with jewels. He stopped, but the man had already seen him and signaled him to come before the throne.

„How long did I sleep?“ he asked with a booming voice. „I, I don’t know, sir.“ the smith stuttered. „How did you get here?“ „Through the door. There was a door under the brambles. I swear that door hasn’t been there before, but suddenly I saw something shimmer and – „

„It’s alright.“, the man nodded. „The door can’t be seen by everyone. I take it that you know about iron magic?“ „I have no idea of magic!“, the smith replied, down to the earth man from the Lower Rhine that he was, „but I am a smith. I know a lot about iron.“

„So be it.“, the other man agreed. „Tell me: Are there still birds circling the hill?“

The smith thought of the swarm that had surrounded him just then. „You might say that.“

His dialog partner sighed deeply and said: „So I have to sleep a bit longer. My time hasn’t come yet.“

The smith stopped short at this comment, and thousand questions rushed his head, but the old man already closed his eyes again.

„My servant will show you the way out. Farewell, my good smith!“

The servant bowed slightly, took the smith’s lantern and hurried away. At the upper end of the tunnel he returned the lantern and presented him a golden coin with a strange embossment. „Take this as a sign of our gratitude.“

This whole thing had been a little too much even for our tough smith, and so he hurried home to his smithy in Kervenheim. By now it was pitch black outside and raining hard.

At home everybody was sleeping already. So he crawled under the blankets and slept as well. Tomorrow he would tell his wife everything.

But when the morning came and the smith reached for the golden coin in his pocket, it was gone. He searched all his pockets and even went back the whole way to Gochfortzberg, but the door was gone, too. Without any proof his story seemed to be far to adventurous and far-fetched, that years went by until he finally told somebody about it. The only thing he got from this adventure were some gray hairs.

The door stayed lost, and nobody has seen the sleeping chieftain and his servant ever since. And this is how it will remain until the birds stop circling the hill.

There are quite a few stories about Gochfortzberg. One of them is this one, clearly a local variation of the Kyffhäuser myth. I heard about it during an presentation of archeological information and tried to shape those bits into a story. In some variations of this myth the sleeper under the mountain is a bringer of peace, in other he will return on doomsday. As a matter of fact traces of settmlements have been found on the hill that go back to the iron age. Some of them were of Roman origin as well and another interpretation of the origins of the ravines of Gochfortzberg says that the Romans tried to create a shortcut from Xanten to Uedem. Still the story about the sleeping chieftain is one of my favorites and it goes well along with all those other sleeper-stories. The importance of the birds related to the end of the world as we know it is know from the London Tower, too.

Why is this story so interesting for me? Because the hill is quite close to my home. Just a few kilometers away.