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The Story of Kullervo Verlyn Flieger The world first publication of a previously unknown work of fantasy by J.R.R. Tolkien, which tells the powerful story of a doomed young man who is sold into slavery and who swears revenge on the magician who killed his father.Kullervo son of Kalervo is perhaps the darkest and most tragic of all J.R.R. Tolkien’s characters. ‘Hapless Kullervo’, as Tolkien called him, is a luckless orphan boy with supernatural powers and a tragic destiny.Brought up in the homestead of the dark magician Untamo, who killed his father, kidnapped his mother, and who tries three times to kill him when still a boy, Kullervo is alone save for the love of his twin sister, Wanona, and guarded by the magical powers of the black dog, Musti. When Kullervo is sold into slavery he swears revenge on the magician, but he will learn that even at the point of vengeance there is no escape from the cruellest of fates.Tolkien wrote that The Story of Kullervo was ‘the germ of my attempt to write legends of my own’, and was ‘a major matter in the legends of the First Age’; his Kullervo was the ancestor of Túrin Turambar, tragic incestuous hero of The Silmarillion. In addition to being a powerful story in its own right, The Story of Kullervo – published here for the first time with the author’s drafts, notes and lecture-essays on its source-work, The Kalevala, is a foundation stone in the structure of Tolkien’s invented world. COPYRIGHT (#u47ffce22-6c93-56fc-bbab-bae8daa10888) Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.tolkien.co.uk (http://www.tolkien.co.uk)www.tolkienestate.com (http://www.tolkienestate.com) Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015 All texts and materials by J.R.R. Tolkien © The Tolkien Trust 2010, 2015 Introductions, Notes and Commentary © Verlyn Flieger 2010, 2015 ® and ‘Tolkien’® are registered trade marks of The Tolkien Estate Limited The Proprietor on behalf of the Author hereby asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of the Proprietor Materials. The illustrations and typescript and manuscript pages are reproduced courtesy of The Bodleian Library, University of Oxford and are selected from their holdings labelled MS. Tolkien Drawings 87, folios 18, 19, MS Tolkien B 64/6, folios 1, 2, 6 & 21, and MS Tolkien B 61, folio 126. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008131364 Ebook Edition © May 2014 ISBN: 9780008131371 Version: 2018-07-23 CONTENTS COVER (#u33510443-4693-51e3-83d8-103d25a0c376) TITLE PAGE (#u7c7a6439-ff4e-5ebe-93f9-cd24b8663bf4) COPYRIGHT LIST OF PLATES FOREWORD (#ulink_243bd9d5-e2da-5c72-9192-92e43b801ef5) INTRODUCTION The Story of Kullervo List of Names Draft Plot Synopses Notes and Commentary Introduction to the Essays On ‘The Kalevala’ or Land of Heroes (#litres_trial_promo) Notes and Commentary The Kalevala Notes and Commentary Tolkien, Kalevala, and ‘The Story of Kullervo’ by Verlyn Flieger BIBLIOGRAPHY WORKS BY J.R.R. TOLKIEN ABOUT THE PUBLISHER LIST OF PLATES (#u47ffce22-6c93-56fc-bbab-bae8daa10888) The Land of Pohja by J.R.R. Tolkien (#ulink_a2e2dc5b-77ae-5313-a622-9019b535fcf8) 1. Manuscript title page written in Christopher Tolkien’s hand. (#ulink_218d714d-41f4-5750-90af-f612101a9f11) 2. First folio of the manuscript. (#ulink_02f05c83-9496-5700-9810-4f804216931b) 3. Draft list of character names. (#litres_trial_promo) 4. Discontinuous notes and rough plot synopsis. (#litres_trial_promo) 5. Further rough plot synopses. (#litres_trial_promo) 6. Manuscript title page of the essay, ‘On “The Kalevala”’, written in J.R.R. Tolkien’s hand. (#litres_trial_promo) (#ulink_37ec54a9-f007-5e3c-adad-7cedca28cec4) The Land of Pohja by J.R.R. Tolkien FOREWORD (#ulink_301a33ba-8a00-57c3-affd-a75168b6f68c) Kullervo son of Kalervo is, perhaps, the least ingratiating of Tolkien’s heroes: uncouth, moody, bad-tempered and venge­ful, as well as physically unattractive. Yet those traits add realism to his character, making him perversely appealing in spite of, or perhaps because of, them. I welcome the chance to introduce this complex character to a wider ­readership than heretofore. I am also grateful for the opportunity to refine my first transcription of the manuscript, restore inadvertent omissions, emend conjectural readings, and ­correct typos that found their way into print. The present text is, I hope, an improved representation of what Tolkien intended. Since the story’s initial appearance, further work has been done on its role in the development of Tolkien’s early ­proto-language, Qenya. John Garth and Andrew Higgins have explored the names of both people and places in the surviving drafts and related them to his language invention, John in his article ‘The road from adaptation to invention’ (Tolkien Studies Vol. XI, pp. 1–44), and Andrew in Chapter Two of his ground-breaking PhD dissertation on Tolkien’s early ­languages, ‘The Genesis of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Myth­ology’ (Cardiff Metropolitan University, 2015). Their work adds to our knowledge of Tolkien’s early efforts, and enriches our understanding of his legendarium as a whole. The materials here published, J.R.R. Tolkien’s unfinished early work The Story of Kullervo and the two drafts of his Oxford University talk on its source ‘On “The ­Kalevala”’, first appeared in Tolkien Studies Volume VII in 2010, and I am grateful for the permission of the Tolkien Estate to reprint them here. My Notes and Comments are reprinted with the permission of West Virginia University Press. My essay, ‘Tolkien, Kalevala, and “The Story of Kullervo”’, is reprinted with the ­permission of Kent State University Press. Thanks for the present volume go to several people, without whom it would never have come to be. First of all to Cathleen Blackburn, to whom I first proposed that The Story of Kullervo needed to reach a larger audience than that of a scholarly journal. I am grateful to Cathleen for ushering the project through the permissions process of the Tolkien Estate and its publisher, HarperCollins. I am grateful to both the Estate and HarperCollins for agreeing with me that re-publication as a stand-alone was what Tolkien’s Kullervo merited. Thanks also to Chris Smith, Editorial Director at HarperCollins in charge of matters Tolkienian, for his help, advice, and encouragement in bringing ­Tolkien’s The Story of Kullervo to the wider audience it deserves. For help and advice in preparing the story and essays thanks go to Catherine Parker, Carl Hostetter, Petri Tikka and Rob Wakeman. INTRODUCTION (#u47ffce22-6c93-56fc-bbab-bae8daa10888) The Story of Kullervo needs to be looked at from several angles if we are to appreciate fully its place in J.R.R. Tolkien’s body of work. It is not only Tolkien’s earliest short story, but also his earliest attempt to write tragedy, as well as his earliest prose venture into myth-making, and is thus a general precursor to his entire fictional canon. In a narrower focus it is a seminal source for what has come to be called his ‘mythology for England’, the ‘Silmarillion’. His retelling of the saga of hapless Kullervo is the raw material from which he developed one of his most powerful stories, that of the Children of Húrin. More specifically still, the character of Kullervo was the germ of Tolkien’s mythology’s most – some would say its only – tragic hero, Túrin Turambar. It has long been known from Tolkien’s letters that his discovery as a schoolboy of Kalevala or ‘Land of Heroes’, a then recently-published collection of the songs or runos of unlettered peasants in Finland’s rural countryside, had a powerful impact on his imagination and was one of the earliest influences on his invented legendarium. In his 1951 letter describing his mythology to the publisher Milton Waldman Tolkien voiced the concern he had always had for the mythological ‘poverty’ of his own country. It was lacking in his eyes, ‘stories of its own’ comparable to the myths of other countries. There was, he wrote, ‘Greek, and Celtic, and Romance, Germanic, Scandinavian’, and (singled out for special mention) ‘Finnish,’ which he said, ‘greatly affected’ him (TheLettersof J.R.R.Tolkien, p. 144, hereafter Letters). Affect him it most certainly did, his engagement with it nearly ruining his Honour Moderations examinations of 1913, as he confessed to his son Christopher in 1944 (Letters, p. 87), and ‘set[ting] the rocket off in story’, as he wrote to W.H. Auden in 1955 (Letters, pp. 214–15). At the time Tolkien was working on his story its source, the Finnish Kalevala, was a latecomer to the existing corpus of world mythologies. Unlike the myths of longer literary provenance such as the Greek and Roman, or the Celtic or Germanic, the songs of Kalevala were gathered and published only in the mid-19th century by a professional physician and amateur folklorist, Elias Lönnrot. So different in tone were these songs from the rest of the European myth corpus that they brought about a re-evaluation of the meaning of such terms as epic and myth.* (#litres_trial_promo) Difference and re-evaluation notwithstanding, the publication of Kalevala had a profound effect on the Finns, who had lived under foreign rule for centuries – as part of Sweden from the 13th century to 1809, and from then to 1917 as a sub-set of Russia to which large parts of Finnish territory were ceded by Sweden. The discovery of an indigenous Finnish mythology, coming as it did at a time when myth was becoming associated with nationalism, gave the Finns a sense of cultural independence and a national identity, and made Lönnrot a national hero. Kalevala energized a burgeoning Finnish nationalism and was influential in Finland’s declaration of independence from Russia in 1917. It seems more than possible that Kalevala’s impact on the Finns as ‘a mythology for Finland’ might have made as deep an impression on Tolkien as the songs themselves, and played a major part in his expressed desire to create his so-called ‘mythology for England’, though what he actually described was a mythology that he could ‘dedicate’ to England (Letters, p. 144). The fact that he would go on to absorb his Kullervo into the character of his own mythology’s Túrin Turambar is evidence of Kalevala’s continuing influence on his creativity. Tolkien first read Kalevala in the 1907 English translation of W.F. Kirby while in his last year at King Edward’s School in Birmingham in 1910–11. The primitive tales so captured his imagination that when he went up to Oxford in the autumn of 1911, he borrowed C.N.E. Eliot’s Finnish Grammar from the Exeter College Library in an attempt to learn enough Finnish to read them in their original language. He thought Kirby’s translation ‘poor’, but found Finnish itself to be like ‘an amazing wine of a kind and flavour never tasted before’(Letters, p. 214). In spite of this, he confessed that he ‘never learned Finnish well enough to do more than plod through a bit of the original … being mostly taken up with its effect on “my language”’ (214). Nevertheless, his effort to read Kalevala in its original language is testament to his growing awareness that story and language are inseparable, indeed, that (as he wrote much later in Manuscript A of ‘On Fairy-stories’‘mythology is language and language is mythology’ (TOFS, p. 181). Tolkien was particularly taken by the character he called ‘Kullervo the hapless’ (Letters, p. 214), Kalevala’s closest approximation of a tragic hero. So taken, indeed, was he that in his final year as an Oxford undergraduate he wrote to his fiancée Edith Bratt, some time in October of 1914, that he was ‘trying to turn one of the stories – which is really a very great story and most tragic – into a short story ... with chunks of poetry in between’ (Letters, p. 7). This was ‘The Story of Kullervo’, the bulk of which was produced, as nearly as can be ascertained, some time during the years 1912–14 (ibid., 214) and almost certainly before his war service intervened and he was sent to France in 1916. The dating is problematic. Tolkien himself placed it as early as 1912; scholars Wayne Hammond and Christina Scull prefer 1914; and John Garth sets it at late 1914. The manuscript title page (Plate 1) carries a date in parentheses ‘(1916)’ in Christopher Tolkien’s hand, but as this is written on the verso of an appreciation on the occasion of Tolkien’s honorary Doctorate from the National University of Ireland in 1954, the 1916 date is retrospective by almost forty years. The 1916 date is further called into question by a notation written below it in pencil: ‘HC [Humphrey Carpenter] says 1914.’ This comment would have been made during or after the time when Carpenter was at work on his biography of Tolkien, published in 1977. Any work’s time of composition is often difficult to determine with precision, since most creative activity develops over an extended period from first idea to final version and can be started, stopped, revised and re-revised along the way. Without more manuscript evidence than we now possess, it is impossible to pinpoint the time of Tolkien’s work on ‘Kullervo’ from inspiration to cessation any more narrowly than during the years 1912–1916. What is fairly certain is that he did not begin work on the story before he read Kalevala in 1911, and may not have done further work on it after his posting to France in June of 1916. From Tolkien’s comment in the letter to Edith, it seems to have been the story’s tragic qualities as much as its mythic qualities that ‘set the rocket off in story’, and so powerfully attracted him that he felt the need to re-tell it. Aside from its palpable influence on the story of Túrin Turambar, however, The Story of Kullervo is notable also for the ways in which it prefigures the narrative styles of Tolkien’s future corpus. It presages without precisely fitting a number of the genres or categories or forms – short story, tragedy, myth-retelling, verse, prose – in which he later wrote. It is at once a short story, a tragedy, a myth, a blend of prose and poetry, yet – hardly surprising in so early a work – all of these in embryo, none fully realized. Thus in all these areas it stands a little to one side of the rest of the canon. As a short story it invites comparison with his later short stories, Roverandom, Leaf By Niggle, Farmer Giles of Ham, and Smith of Wootton Major; as a myth re-telling it belongs with his Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún and The Fall of Arthur; in its mix of prose and poetry it recalls a similar mixture in Tolkien’s masterwork, The Lord of the Rings. Stylistically, too, there is ground for comparison, for the ‘chunks of poetry’ not infrequently segue into a rhythmic prose that evokes the poetry-prose mix of the speech of Tom Bombadil. The comparisons end there, however, for in other aspects The Story of Kullervo has little in common with most of the above works. Only The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún conveys the pagan atmosphere that is the essence of Kullervo, and The Fall of Arthur its sense of ineluctable doom. Roverandom, although it has, as recently pointed out, distinct similarities to the mythic Irish imramma or voyage stories,* (#litres_trial_promo) was in its genesis and essentially remains a tale for children. Leaf By Niggle, although it is set in vaguely modern times and in a place that, while never identified, is pretty clearly Tolkien’s own England, is a parable about the journey of the soul, and by far the most allegorical of all Tolkien’s works. Farmer Giles of Ham is a playfully satiric pseudo-folktale with a number of scholarly inside jokes and topical references to Tolkien’s Oxford. Smith of Wootton Major is pure fairy tale, the most artistically consistent of all his shorter works. In contrast to all of these, The Story of Kullervo – emphatically not for children, neither playful nor satiric, not allegorical, and with little of the faërie quality Tolkien found essential for fairy stories – is relentlessly dark, a foreboding and tragic tale of blood feud, murder, child abuse, revenge, incest and suicide, so different in tone and content from his other short fiction as to be almost a separate category. As a tragedy, The Story of Kullervo conforms in large measure to the Aristotelian specifics for tragedy: catastrophe, or change of fortune; peripeteia, or reversal, in which a character inadvertently produces an effect opposite to what is intended; and anagnoresis, or recognition, in which a character moves from ignorance to self-knowledge. The classic example is Oedipus, whose drama Sophocles situated within quasi-historical time and place – Thebes in the 4th century BC. Tolkien’s fictive Middle-earth examples are Túrin Turambar, who is closely modelled on Kullervo, and his least likely tragic hero Frodo Baggins, whose journey and emotional trajectory from Bag End to Mount Doom take him through all of Aristotle’s norms set within the larger context of the history of Middle-earth, as do those of Túrin. In contrast, The Story of Kullervo is largely ahistorical, creating its own self-contained world whose only time-period is ‘when magic was yet new.’ As Tolkien’s earliest effort to adapt an existing myth to his own purpose, The Story of Kullervo belongs with his two other, more mature such efforts, both conjecturally dated to the 1920s–30s. These are The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, his verse retelling of the Völsung story from the Icelandic Poetic Edda, and The Fall of Arthur, his synthesis and recasting into modern English alliterative verse of two Middle English Arthurian poems. Like his Arthur and Sigurd, Tolkien’s Kullervo is the latest version of a mythic figure who has had many iterations. Aspects of Kullervo can be traced back to the early medieval Irish Amlodhi, to the Scandinavian Amlethus of Saxo Grammaticus’s 12th-century Gesta Danorum, and to Shakespeare’s more modern Renaissance Prince Hamlet. The sequence culminates in Kalevala’s Kullervo, to which Tolkien is most directly indebted. And yet Tolkien’s story does not quite fit with his later mythic adaptations either. First, both Kalevala and Tolkien’s Kullervo are considerably less well-known than are Sigurd and Arthur. The Story of Kullervo will, for many readers who are acquainted with Sigurd and Arthur, be their first introduction to this unlikely hero. Thus Tolkien’s version carries no baggage and is likely to be met with no preconceptions. Few, if any, of his readers will recognize Shakespeare’s Prince Hamlet in Tolkien’s Kullervo, though sharp eyes may see in Kullervo’s ruthless and unscrupulous uncle Untamo the seed of Hamlet’s ruthless and unscrupulous uncle, Claudius. In terms of narrative form, Tolkien’s ‘Kullervo’ falls somewhere between the short stories and the long poems in that it is cast in a mixture of prose and verse, interpolating long passages of poetry into a stylized prose narrative. Like his Sigurd and Gudrún it is a love story of doom with no reprieve for its human players, and like his Fall of Arthur it is a story of the intermixture of fate and human decision as the relentless determinants of human life. Also, like The Fall of Arthur but unlike Sigurd and Gudrún, it is unfinished, breaking off before the climactic final scenes, which remain only sketched in jotted outline and notes. Its unfinished state is also sadly typical of much of Tolkien’s work; more of his ‘Silmarillion’ stories remained works in progress at the time of his death than were ever brought to completion in his lifetime. Aside from this negative qualification, The Story of Kullervo would deserve a place in the continuum of Tolkien’s art for all of the above-cited reasons. But the greatest importance of The Story of Kullervo, as noted above, is as the preliminary to one of the foundation narratives of his legendarium, The Children of Húrin, its central character being the clear precursor of that story’s protagonist, Túrin Turambar. Tolkien also cited other models for Túrin, such as the Icelandic Edda from which he borrowed Túrin’s dragon-slaying episode, and Sophocles’s Oedipus, who is (as defined above), like Túrin, a tragic hero in search of his own identity. Nevertheless, it is no exaggeration to say that without Kalevala there would be no Story of Kullervo, and without The Story of Kullervo there would be no Túrin. Certainly without the story of Túrin Tolkien’s invented mythology would lack much of its tragic power, as well as its most compelling narrative trajectory outside The Lord of the Rings. We can also recognize in ‘Kullervo’, though more distantly, a number of repeating motifs that run through Tolkien’s fiction: the fatherless child, the supernatural helper, the charged relationship of uncle and nephew, and the cherished heirloom or talisman. Although these motifs are translated into new narrative circumstances and sometimes turned in quite different directions, they nevertheless form a continuum that stretches from The Story of Kullervo, his earliest serious fiction, to Smith of Wootton Major, the last of his stories published in his lifetime. In the above-mentioned letter to Waldman Tolkien expressed his hope that his invented myth would leave scope for ‘other minds and hands wielding paint and music and drama’ (Letters, pp. 144–5). He might have been thinking of Kalevala here also, for his reference to paint and music and the scope for other hands may well be an allusion to the translations of Kalevala material into paint and music by other artists who found in it inspiration for their art. Two prominent examples are the classical composer Jan Sibelius and the painter Akseli Gallen-Kallela, two of the best-known Finnish artists of the late 19th and early 20th century. Sibelius mined Kalevala for his orchestral ‘Lemminkainen’ and ‘Tapiola’ suites and his longer ‘Kullervo Suite’ for orchestra and chorus, turning myths into music. Akseli Gallen-Kallela, Finland’s foremost painter of the modern era, produced a series of scenes from Kalevala including four paintings illustrating key moments in the life of Kullervo. The popularity of this character, and his attraction for artists, suggests that he can be seen as a kind of folkloric embodiment of the violence and troubled irrationality of the equally troubled modern age. It does not take a great stretch of imagination to see Tolkien’s Túrin Turambar, a product of the same war-torn age, in the same light as the same sort of hero. The narrative trajectory of Tolkien’s story follows closely runos 31–36 in Kalevala. These were titled in Kirby’s translation, ‘Untamo and Kullervo’, ‘Kullervo and the Wife of Ilmarinen’, ‘The Death of Ilmarinen’s Wife’, ‘Kullervo and his Parents’, ‘Kullervo and his Sister’, and ‘The Death of Kullervo’. Although presented as separate poems, they comprise a coherent (if not always fully integrated) sequence telling the continuous story of a catastrophic quarrel between brothers, which leaves one brother dead and the other the murderous guardian of the dead brother’s newborn son, Kullervo. Mistreated and abused by both his guardian and the guardian’s wife, the boy survives an unhappy childhood including three attempts at his murder – by drowning, burning, and hanging – and ultimately exacts vengeance on both of them, but is himself subsequently destroyed by his discovery of his unwitting incest with a sister he did not recognize until too late. Tolkien’s treatment deepens the story, prolonging suspense and adding both psychology and mystery, developing the characters while preserving and enhancing the pagan and primitive qualities that first attracted him to Kalevala. The Story of Kullervo exists in a single manuscript, Bodleian Library MS Tolkien B 64/6. This is a legible but rough draft, with many crossings-out, marginal and above-the-line additions, corrections, and emendations. The text is written in pencil on both sides of thirteen numbered bi-fold foolscap folios. The main narrative breaks off abruptly halfway down the recto of folio 13, at a point about three-quarters of the way through the story. It is followed on the same page by notes and outlines for the remainder (Plates 4, 5), which fill the rest of the space and continue on to the top portion of the verso. There are in addition several loose sheets of variable size containing what are clearly preliminary plot outlines, jotted notes, lists of names (Plate 3), lists of rhyming words, and several drafts of one long verse passage of the story, ‘Now in sooth a man I deem me’. If, as appears likely, MS Tolkien B 64/6 contains the earliest and (aside from the note pages) the only draft of the story, Tolkien’s revisions on this manuscript must stand as his final ones. I have left intact Tolkien’s sometimes quirky usage and often convoluted syntax, in a few instances adding punctuation where necessary to clarify meaning. Square brackets enclose conjectural readings and words or word-elements missing from the manuscript but supplied for clarity. His use of diacritical marks over the vowel – chiefly macron but also occasionally breve and umlaut – is also inconsistent, attributable more to speed of composition than intentional omission. False starts, cancelled words and lines have been omitted, with four exceptions. In these instances, wavy brackets enclose phrases or sentences cancelled in the MS but here retained as of particular interest to the story. Three such cancelled passages give evidence of Tolkien’s long preoccupation with the nature of magic and the supernatural. The first two occur in the opening sentence. These are: 1) ‘of magic long ago’; 2) ‘when magic was yet new’. A third, the long sentence beginning ‘and to Kullervo he [Musti] gave three hairs ...’ refers to Kullervo’s supernatural helper, the dog Musti, and is also evidence of the story’s engagement with magic. The fourth, which occurs later in the text is the possibly autobiographically-related, ‘I was small and lost my mother ...’ I have preferred not to interrupt the text (and distract the reader) with note numbers, but a Notes and Commentary section follows the narrative proper, explaining terms and usage, citing references, and clarifying the relationship of Tolkien’s story to its Kalevala source. This section also includes Tolkien’s preliminary outline notes for the story, enabling the reader to track apparent changes and follow the path of Tolkien’s imagination. The present edition of Tolkien’s story, together with the accompanying drafts of his essay ‘On “The Kalevala”’, makes available to scholars, critics and readers alike the ‘very great’ and ‘most tragic’ story about which Tolkien wrote to Edith in 1914, and which contributed so materially to his legendarium. It is to be hoped they will find it a worthwhile and valuable addition to his work. A Note on Names The story is a work in progress not only for its narrative incompletion but because Tolkien began by following the Kalevala nomenclature, but in the course of composition changed to his own invented names and nicknames for all but the major characters, these being the murdered brother Kalervo, his son Kullervo, and the murderous brother/uncle Untamo; and even for these he supplied a variety of non-Kalevala nicknames. His text is not always consistent, however, and he occasionally reverts to, or forgets to change, an earlier discarded name. His most notable name-change is from ‘Ilmarinen’, the name of the smith in Kalevala, to ‘Āsemo’ for the same figure in his own story. See the entry for Āsemo the smith in the Notes and Commentary for a longer discussion on the etymology of the name. Tolkien also experimented with alternative names for two characters, Kullervo’s sister Wanōna and his dog Musti. It has been pointed out to me by Carl Hostetter that some of the invented names in The Story of Kullervo echo or prefigure Tolkien’s earliest known efforts at his proto-invented language, Qenya. Qenya-like names in the story include the god-names Ilu, Ilukko and Ilwinti, all strongly reminiscent of Ilúvatar, the godhead figure of the ‘Silmarillion’. Kalervo’s nickname Kampa appears in early Qenya as a name for one of Tolkien’s earliest figures, Earendel, with the meaning ‘Leaper’. The place-name variously given as Kēme or K m nūme, in Tolkien’s story glossed as ‘The Great Land, Russia’ (Plate 2), is in Qenya defined as ‘earth, soil’. The place-name Telea (actual Karelja) evokes the Teleri of the ‘Silmarillion’, one of the three groups of elves to go to Valinor from Middle-earth. Manalome, Manatomi, Manoini, words for ‘sky, heaven’, recall Qenya Mana/Manwë, chief of the Valar, the demi-gods of the ‘Silmarillion’. Circumstantial evidence would appear to support a chronological relationship between the names in The Story of Kullervo and Tolkien’s burgeoning Qenya, the earliest evidences for which are contained in the Qenya Lexicon. For a more extended look at the development of Qenya the reader is referred to Tolkien’s ‘Qenyaqetsa: The Qenya Phonology and Lexicon,’ apparently written in 1915–16 and published in Parma Eldalamberon XII, 1998. VERLYN FLIEGER (#ulink_d7e86ac8-fdd5-51ac-ada6-1a5e3baf0f9e) 1. Manuscript title page written in Christopher Tolkien’s hand [MS Tolkien B 64/6 folio 1 recto]. (#ulink_0fec4da8-21df-5d39-9d66-da6fcb6c7b64) 2. First folio of the manuscript [MS Tolkien B 64/6 folio 2 recto]. The Story of Honto Taltewenlen (#litres_trial_promo) The Story of Kullervo (#u47ffce22-6c93-56fc-bbab-bae8daa10888) (Kalervonpoika (#litres_trial_promo)) In the days {of magic long ago} {when magic was yet new (#litres_trial_promo)}, a swan nurtured her brood of cygnets by the banks of a smooth river in the reedy marshland of Sutse (#litres_trial_promo). One day as she was sailing among the sedge-fenced pools with her trail of younglings following, an eagle swooped from heaven and flying high bore off one of her children to Telea (#litres_trial_promo): on the second day a mighty hawk robbed her of yet another and bore it to Kemenūme (#litres_trial_promo). Now that nursling that was brought to Kemenūme waxed and became a trader and cometh not into this sad tale: but that one whom the hawk brought to Telea he it is whom men name Kalervō (#litres_trial_promo): while a third of the nurslings that remained behind men speak oft of him and name him Untamō (#litres_trial_promo) the Evil, and a fell sorcerer and man of power did he become. And Kalervo dwelt beside the rivers of fish and had thence much sport and good meat, and to him had his wife borne in years past both a son and a daughter and was even now again nigh to childbirth (#litres_trial_promo). And in those days did Kalervo’s lands border on the confines of the dismal realm of his mighty brother Untamo; who coveted his pleasant river lands and its plentiful fish. So coming he set nets in Kalervo’s fish waters and robbed Kalervo of his angling and brought him great grief. And bitterness arose between the brothers, first that and at last open war. After a fight upon the river banks in which neither might overcome the other, Untamo returned to his grim homestead and sat in evil brooding, weaving (in his fingers) a design of wrath and vengeance. He caused his mighty cattle to break into Kalervo’s pastures and drive his sheep away and devour their fodder. Then Kalervo let forth his black hound Musti (#litres_trial_promo) to devour them. Untamo then in ire mustered his men and gave them weapons; armed his henchmen and slave lads with axe and sword and marched to battle, even to ill strife against his very brother. And the wife of Kalervoinen sitting nigh to the window of the homestead descried a scurry arising of the smoke army in the distance, and she spake to Kalervo saying, ‘Husband, lo, an ill reek ariseth yonder: come hither to me. Is it smoke I see or but a thick[?] gloomy cloud that passeth swift: but now hovers on the borders of the cornfields just yonder by the new-made pathway?’ Then said Kalervo in heavy mood, ‘Yonder, wife, is no reek of autumn smoke nor any passing gloom, but I fear me a cloud that goeth nowise swiftly nor before it has harmed my house and folk in evil storm.’ Then there came into the view of both Untamo’s assemblage and ahead could they see the numbers and their strength and their gay scarlet raiment. Steel shimmered there and at their belts were their swords hanging and in their hands their stout axes gleaming and neath their caps their ill faces lowering: for ever did Untamoinen gather to him cruel and worthless carles (#litres_trial_promo). And Kalervo’s men were out and about the farm lands so seizing axe and shield he rushed alone on his foes and was soon slain even in his own yard nigh to the cowbyre in the autumn-sun of his own fair harvest-tide by the weight of the numbers of foemen. Evilly Untamoinen wrought with his brother’s body before his wife’s eyes and foully entreated his folk and lands (#litres_trial_promo). His wild men slew all whom they found both man and beast, sparing only Kalervo’s wife and her two children and sparing them thus only to bondage in his gloomy halls of Untola (#litres_trial_promo). Bitterness then entered the heart of that mother, for Kalervo had she dearly loved and dear been to him and she dwelt in the halls of Untamo caring naught for anything in the sunlit world: and in due time bore amidst her sorrow Kalervo’s babes (#litres_trial_promo): a man-child and a maid-child at one birth. Of great strength was the one and of great fairness the other even at birth and dear to one another from their first hours: but their mother’s heart was dead within, nor did she reck aught of their goodliness nor did it gladden her grief or do better than recall the old days in their homestead of the smooth river and the fish waters among the reeds and the thought of the dead Kalervo their father, and she named the boy Kullervo (#litres_trial_promo), or ‘wrath’, and his daughter Wanōna, or ‘weeping’ (#litres_trial_promo). And Untamo spared the children for he thought they would wax to lusty servants and he could have them do his bidding and tend his body nor pay them the wages he paid the other uncouth carles. But for lack of their mother’s care the children were reared in crooked fashion, for ill cradle rocking (#litres_trial_promo) meted to infants by fosterers in thralldom: and bitterness do they suck from breasts of those that bore them not. The strength of Kullervo unsoftened turned to untameable will that would forego naught of his desire and was resentful of all injury. And a wild lone-faring maiden did Wanōna grow, straying in the grim woods of Untola so soon as she could stand – and early was that, for wondrous were these children and but one generation from the men of magic (#litres_trial_promo). And Kullervo was like to her: an ill child he ever was to handle till came the day that in wrath he rent in pieces his swaddling clothes and kicked with his strength his linden cradle to splinters – but men said that it seemed he would prosper and make a man of might and Untamo was glad, for him thought he would have in Kullervo one day a warrior of strength and a henchman of great stoutness. Nor did this seem unlike, for at the third month did Kullervo, not yet more than knee-high (#litres_trial_promo), stand up and spake in this wise on a sudden to his mother who was grieving still in her yet green anguish. ‘O my mother, o my dearest why grievest thou thus?’ And his mother spake unto him telling him the dastard tale of the Death of Kalervo in his own homestead and how all he had earned was ravished and slain by his brother Untamo and his underlings, and nought spared or saved but his great hound Musti who had returned from the fields to find his master slain and his mistress and her children in bondage, and had followed their exile steps to the blue woods round Untamo’s halls where now he dwelt a wild life for fear of Untamo’s henchmen and ever and anon slaughtered a sheep and often at the night could his baying be heard: and Untamo’s underlings said it was the hound of Tuoni (#litres_trial_promo) Lord of Death though it was not so. All this she told him and gave him a great knife curious wrought that Kalervo had worn ever at his belt if he fared afield, a blade of marvellous keenness made in his dim days, and she had caught it from the wall in the hope to aid her dear one. Thereat she returned to her grief and Kullervo cried aloud, ‘By my father’s knife when I am bigger and my body waxeth stronger then will I avenge his slaughter and atone for the tears of thee my mother who bore me.’ And these words he never said again but that once, but that once did Untamo overhear. And for wrath and fear he trembled and said he will bring my race in ruin for Kalervo is reborn in him. And therewith he devised all manner of evil for the boy (for so already did the babe appear, so sudden and so marvellous was his growth in form and strength) and only his twin sister the fair maid Wanōna (for so already did she appear, so great and wondrous was her growth in form and beauty) had compassion on him and was his companion in their wandering the blue woods: for their elder brother and sister (of which the tale told before), though they had been born in freedom and looked on their father’s face, were more like unto thralls than those orphans born in bondage, and knuckled under to Untamo and did all his evil bidding nor in anything recked to comfort their mother who had nurtured them in the rich days by the river. And wandering in the woods a year and a month after their father Kalervo was slain these two wild children fell in with Musti the Hound. Of Musti did Kullervo learn many things concerning his father and Untamo and of things darker and dimmer and farther back even perhaps before their magic days and even before men as yet had netted fish in Tuoni the marshland (#litres_trial_promo). Now Musti was the wisest of hounds: nor do men say ever aught of where or when he was whelped but ever speak of him as a dog of fell might and strength and of great knowledge, and Musti had kinship and fellowship with the things of the wild, and knew the secret of the changing of skin and could appear as wolf or bear or as cattle great or small and could much other magic besides. And on the night of which it is told, the hound warned them of the evil of Untamo’s mind and that he desired nothing so much as Kullervo’s death {and to Kullervo he gave three hairs (#litres_trial_promo) from his coat, and said, ‘Kullervo Kalervanpoika, if ever you are in danger from Untamo take one of these and cry ‘Musti O! Musti may thy magic aid me now’, then wilt thou find a marvellous aid in thy distress.’} And next day Untamo had Kullervo seized and crushed into a barrel and flung into the waters of a rushing torrent – that seemed like to be the waters of Tuoni the River of Death to the boy: but when they looked out upon the river three days after, he had freed himself from the barrel and was sitting upon the waves fishing with a rod of copper with a silken line for fish, and he ever remained from that day a mighty catcher of fish. Now this was the magic of Musti. And again did Untamo seek Kullervo’s destruction and sent his servants to the woodland where they gathered mighty birch trees and pine trees from which the pitch was oozing, pine trees with their thousand needles. And sledgefuls of bark did they draw together, and great ash trees a [hundred] fathoms (#litres_trial_promo) in length: for lofty in sooth were the woods of gloomy Untola. And all this they heaped for the burning of Kullervo. They kindled the flame beneath the wood and the great bale-fire crackled and the smell of logs and acrid smoke choked them wondrously and then the whole blazed up in red heat and thereat they thrust Kullervo in the midst and the fire burned for two days and a third day and then sat there the boy knee-deep in ashes and up to his elbows in embers and a silver coal-rake he held in his hand and gathered the hottest fragments around him and himself was unsinged. Untamo then in blind rage seeing that all his sorcery availed nought had him hanged shamefully on a tree. And there the child of his brother Kalervo dangled high from a great oak for two nights and a third night and then Untamo sent at dawn to see whether Kullervo was dead upon the gallows or no. And his servant returned in fear: and such were his words: ‘Lord, Kullervo has in no wise perished as yet: nor is dead upon the gallows, but in his hand he holdeth a great knife and has scored wondrous things therewith upon the tree and all its bark is covered with carvings wherein chiefly is to be seen a great fish (now this was Kalervo’s sign of old) and wolves and bears and a huge hound such as might even be one of the great pack of Tuoni.’ Now this magic that had saved Kullervo’s life was the last hair of Musti: and the knife was the great knife Sikki (#litres_trial_promo): his father’s, which his mother had given to him: and thereafter Kullervo treasured the knife Sikki beyond all silver and gold. Untamoinen felt afraid and yielded perforce to the great magic that guarded the boy, and sent him to become a slave and to labour for him without pay and but scant fostering: indeed often would he have starved but for Wanōna who, though Unti treated her scarcely better, spared her brother much from her little. No compassion for these twins did their elder brother and sister show, but sought rather by subservience to Unti to get easier life for themselves: and a great resentment did Kullervo store up for himself and daily he grew more morose and violent and to no one did he speak gently but to Wanōna and not seldom was he short with her. So when Kullervo had waxed taller and stronger Untamo sent for him and spake thus: ‘In my house I have retained you and meted wages to you as methought thy bearing merited – food for thy belly or a buffet for thy ear: now must thou labour and thrall or servant work will I appoint for you. Go now, make me a clearing in the near thicket of the Blue Forest. Go now.’ And Kuli went. But he was not ill pleased, for though but of two years he deemed himself grown to manhood in that now he had an axe set in hand, and he sang as he fared him to the woodlands. Song of Sākehonto in the woodland: Now a man in sooth I deem me (#litres_trial_promo) Though mine ages have seen few summers And this springtime in the woodlands Still is new to me and lovely. Nobler am I now than erstwhile And the strength of five within me And the valour of my father In the springtime in the woodlands Swells within me Sākehonto. O mine axe my dearest brother – Such an axe as fits a chieftain, Lo we go to fell the birch-trees And to hew their white shafts slender: For I ground thee in the morning And at even wrought a handle; And thy blade shall smite the tree-boles And the wooded mountains waken And the timber crash to earthward In the springtime in the woodland Neath thy stroke mine iron brother. And thus fared Sākehonto to the forest slashing at all that he saw to the right or to the left, him recking little of the wrack, and a great tree-swathe lay behind him for great was his strength. Then came he to a dense part of the forest high up on one of the slopes of the mountains of gloom, nor was he afraid for he had affinity with wild things and Mauri’s [Musti’s] magic was about him, and there he chose out the mightiest trees and hewed them, felling the stout at one blow and the weaker at a half. And when seven mighty trees lay before him on a sudden he cast his axe from him that it half cleft through a great oak that groaned thereat: but the axe held there quivering. But Sāki shouted, ‘May Tanto Lord of Hell do such labour and send Lempo (#litres_trial_promo) for the timbers fashioning.’ And he sang: Let no sapling sprout here ever Nor the blades of grass stand greening While the mighty earth endureth Or the golden moon is shining And its rays come filtering dimly Through the boughs of Saki’s forest. Now the seed to earth hath fallen And the young corn shooteth upward And its tender leaf unfoldeth Till the stalks do form upon it. May it never come to earing Nor its yellow head droop ripely In this clearing in the forest In the woods of Sākehonto. And within a while came forth Ūlto to gaze about him to learn how the son of Kampo his slave had made a clearing in the forest but he found no clearing but rather a ruthless hacking here and there and a spoilage of the best of trees: and thereon he reflected saying, ‘For such labour is the knave unsuited, for he has spoiled the best timber and now I know not whither to send him or to what I may set him.’ But he bethought him and sent the boy to make a fencing betwixt some of his fields and the wild; and to this work then Honto set out but he gathered the mightiest of the trees he had felled and hewed thereto others: firs and lofty pines from blue Puhōsa and used them as fence stakes; and these he bound securely with rowans and wattled: and made the tree-wall continuous without break or gap: nor did he set a gate within it nor leave an opening or chink but said to himself grimly, ‘He who may not soar swift aloft like a bird nor burrow like the wild things may never pass across it or pierce through Honto’s fence work.’ But this over-stout fence displeased Ūlto and he chid his slave of war for the fence stood without gate or gap beneath, without chink or crevice resting on the wide earth beneath and towering amongst Ukko’s clouds above. For this do men call a lofty Pine ridge ‘Sāri’s hedge’. ‘For such labour,’ said Ūlto, ‘art thou unsuited: nor know I to what I may set thee, but get thee hence, there is rye for threshing ready.’ So Sāri got him to the threshing in wrath and threshed the rye to powder and chaff that the winds of Wenwe took it and blew as a dust in Ūlto’s eyes, whereat he was wroth and Sāri fled. And his mother was feared for that and Wanōna wept, but his brother and elder sister chid them for they said that Sāri did nought but make Ūlto angered and of that anger’s ill did they all have a share while Sāri skulked the woodlands. Thereat was Sāri’s heart bitter, and Ūlto spake of selling as a bond slave into a distant country and being rid of the lad. His mother spake then pleading, ‘O Sārihontō if you fare abroad, if you go as a bond slave into a distant country, if you perish among unknown men, who will have thought for thy mother or daily tend the hapless dame?’ And Sāri in evil mood answered singing out in light heart and whistling thereto: Let her starve upon a haycock Let her stifle in the cowbyre And thereto his brother and sister joined their voices saying, Who shall daily aid thy brother? Who shall tend him in the future? To which he got only this answer, Let him perish in the forest Or lie fainting in the meadow. And his sister upbraided him saying he was hard of heart, and he made answer. ‘For thee treacherous sister though thou be a daughter of Keime (#litres_trial_promo) I care not: but I shall grieve to part from Wanōna.’ Then he left them and Ūlto thinking of the lad’s size and growing strength relented and resolved to set him yet to other tasks, and is it told how he went to lay his largest drag-net and as he grasped his oar asked aloud, ‘Now shall I pull amain with all my vigour or with but common effort?’ And the steersman said: ‘Now row amain, for thou canst not pull this boat atwain.’ Then Sāri Kampa’s son rowed with all his might and sundered the wood rowlocks and shattered the ribs of juniper and the aspen planking of the boat he splintered. Quoth Ūlto when he saw, ‘Nay, thou understandst not rowing, go thresh the fish into the dragnet: maybe to more purpose wilt thou thresh the water with threshing-pole than with foam.’ But Sāri as he was raising his pole asked aloud, ‘Shall I thresh amain with manly vigour or but leisurely with common effort threshing with the pole?’ And the net-man said, ‘Nay, thresh amain. Wouldst thou call it labour if thou threshed not with thy might but at thine ease only?’ So Sāri threshed with all his might and churned the water to soup and threshed the net to tow and battered the fish to slime. And Ūlto’s wrath knew no bounds and he said, ‘Utterly useless is the knave: whatsoever work I give him he spoils from malice: I will sell him as a bond-slave in the Great Land. There the Smith Āsemo (#litres_trial_promo) will have him that his strength may wield the hammer.’ And Sāri wept in wrath and in bitterness of heart for his sundering from Wanōna and the black dog Mauri. Then his brother said, ‘Not for thee shall I be weeping if I hear thou has perished afar off. I will find himself a brother better than thou and more comely too to see.’ For Sāri was not fair in his face but swart and illfavoured (#litres_trial_promo) and his stature assorted not with his breadth. And Sāri said, Not for thee shall I go weeping If I hear that thou hast perished: I will make me such a brother – with great ease: on him a head of stone and a mouth of sallow, and his eyes shall be cranberries and his hair of withered stubble: and legs of willow twigs I’ll make him and his flesh of rotten trees I’ll fashion – and even so he will be more a brother and better than thou art.’ And his elder sister asked whether he was weeping for his folly and he said nay, for he was fain to leave her and she said that for her part she would not grieve at his sending nor even did she hear he had perished in the marshes and vanished from the people, for so she should find herself a brother and one more skilful and more fair to boot. And Sāri said, ‘Nor for you shall I go weeping if I hear that thou hast perished. I can make me such a sister out of clay and reeds with a head of stone and eyes of cranberries and ears of water lily and a body of maple, and a better sister than thou art.’ Then his mother spake to him soothingly. Oh my sweet one O my dearest I the fair one who has borne thee I the golden one who nursed thee I shall weep for thy destruction If I hear that thou hast perished And hast vanished from the people. Scarce thou knowest a mother’s feelings Or a mother’s heart it seemeth And if tears be still left in me For my grieving for thy father I shall weep for this our parting I shall weep for thy destruction And my tears shall fall in summer And still hotly fall in winter Till they melt [the] snows around me And the ground is bared and thawing And the earth again grows verdant And my tears run through the greenness. O my fair one O my nursling Kullervoinen Kullervoinen Sārihonto son of Kampa. But Sāri’s heart was black with bitterness and he said, ‘Thou wilt weep not and if thou dost, then weep: weep till the house is flooded, weep until the paths are swimming and the byre a marsh, for I reck not and shall be far hence.’ And Sāri son of Kampa did Ūlto take abroad with him and through the land of Telea where dwelt Āsemo the smith, nor did Sāri see aught of Oanōra [Wanōna] at his parting and that hurt him: but Mauri followed him afar off and his baying in the nighttime brought some cheer to Sāri and he had still his knife Sikki. And the smith, for he deemed Sāri a worthless knave and uncouth, gave Ūlto but two outworn kettles and five old rakes and six scythes in payment and with that Ūlto had to return content not. And now did Sāri drink not only the bitter draught of thralldom (#litres_trial_promo) but eat the poisoned bread of solitude and loneliness thereto: and he grew more ill favoured and crooked, broad and illknit and knotty and unrestrained and unsoftened, and fared often into the wild wastes with Mauri: and grew to know the fierce wolves and to converse even with Uru the bear: nor did such comrades improve his mind and the temper of his heart, but never did he forget in the deep of his mind his vow of long ago and wrath with Ūlto, but no tender feelings would he let his heart cherish for his folk afar save a[t] whiles for Wanōna. Now Āsemo had to wife the daughter [of] Koi Queen of the marshlands (#litres_trial_promo) of the north, whence he carried magic and many other dark things to Puhōsa (#litres_trial_promo) and even to Sutsi by the broad rivers and the reed-fenced pools. She was fair but to Āsemo alone sweet. Treacherous and hard and little love did she bestow on the uncouth thrall and little did Sāri bid for her love or kindness. Now as yet Āsemo set not his new thrall to any labour for he had men enough, and for many months did Sāri wander in wildness till at the egging of his wife the smith bade Sāri become his wife’s servant and do all her bidding. And then was Koi’s daughter glad for she trusted to make use of his strength to lighten her labour about the house and to tease and punish him for his slights and roughness towards her aforetime. But as may be expected, he proved an ill bondservant and great dislike for Sāri grew up in his [Āsemo’s] wife’s heart and no spite she could wreak against him did she ever forego. And it came to a day many and many a summer since Sāri was sold out of Dear Puhōsa and left the blue woods (#litres_trial_promo) and Wanōna, that seeking to rid the house of his hulking presence the wife of Āsemo pondered deep and bethought her to set him as her herdsman and send him afar to tend her wide flocks in the open lands all about. Then set she herself to baking: and in malice did she prepare the food for the neatherd to take with him. Grimly working to herself she made a loaf and a great cake. Now the cake she made of oats below with a little wheat above it, but between she inserted a mighty flint – saying the while, ‘Break thou the teeth of Sāri O flint: rend thou the tongue of Kampa’s son that speaketh always harshness and knows of no respect to those above him. For she thought how Sāri would stuff the whole into his mouth at a bite, for greedy he was in manner of eating, not unlike the wolves his comrades. Then she spread the cake with butter and upon the crust laid bacon and calling Sāri bid him go tend the flocks that day nor return until the evening, and the cake she gave him as his allowance, bidding him eat not until the herd was driven into the wood. Then sent she Sāri forth, saying after him: Let him herd among the bushes And the milch kine in the meadow: These with wide horns to the aspens These with curved horns to the birches That they thus may fatten on them And their flesh be sweet and goodly. Out upon the open meadows Out among the forest borders Wandering in the birchen woodland And the lofty growing aspens. Lowing now in silver copses Roaming in the golden firwoods. And as her great herds and her herdsman got them afar, something belike of foreboding seized her and she prayed to Ilu the God of Heaven (#litres_trial_promo) who is good and dwells in Manatomi (#litres_trial_promo). And her prayer was in the fashion of a song and very long, whereof some was thus: Guard my kine (#litres_trial_promo) O gracious Ilu From the perils in the pathway That they come not into danger Nor may fall on evil fortune. If my herdsman is an ill one Make the willow then a neatherd Let the alder watch the cattle And the mountain ash protect them Let the cherry lead them homeward In the milktime in the even. If the willow will not herd them Nor the mountain ash protect them And the alder will not watch them Nor the cherry drive them homeward Send thou then thy better servants, Send the daughters of Ilwinti (#litres_trial_promo) To guard my kine from danger And protect my horned cattle For a many are thy maidens At thy bidding in Manoine (#litres_trial_promo) And skilled to herd the white kine On the blue meads of Ilwinti Until Ukko (#litres_trial_promo) comes to milk them And gives drink to thirsty Kēme. Come thou maidens great and ancient Mighty daughters of the Heaven Come thou children of Malōlo (#litres_trial_promo) At Ilukko’s mighty bidding O [Uorlen?] most wise one Do thou guard my flock from evil Where the willows will not ward them Out across the quaking marshland Where the surface ever shifteth And the greedy depths are gulping. O thou Sampia most lovely Blow the honey-horn most gaily. Where the alder will not tend them Do thou pasture all my cattle Making flowers upon the hummocks: With the melody of the mead-horn Make thou fair this heathland border And enchant the skirting forest That my kine have food and fodder, And have golden hay in plenty And the heads of silver grasses. O Palikki’s little damsel (#litres_trial_promo) And Telenda (#litres_trial_promo) thy companion Where the rowan will not tend them Dig my cattle wells all silver Down on both sides of their pasture With your straying feet of magic Cause the grey springs to spout coolly And the streams that flow by swiftly And the speedy running rivers Twixt the shining banks of grassland To give drink of honey sweetness That the herd may suck the water And the juice may trickle richly To their swelling teeming udders And the milk may flow in runlets And may foam in streams of whiteness. But Kaltūse (#litres_trial_promo) thrifty mistress And arrester of all evil, Where the wild things will not guard them Fend the sprite of ill far from them That no idle hands do milk them And their milk on earth be wasted That no drops flow down to Pūlu (#litres_trial_promo) And that Tanto drink not of it But that when at Kame (#litres_trial_promo) at milk tide Then their milkstreams may be swollen And the pails be overflowing And the good wife’s heart be gladdened. O Terenye maid of Samyan (#litres_trial_promo) Little daughter of the forests Clad in soft and beauteous garments With thy golden hair so lovely And thy shoon of scarlet leather, When the cherry will not lead them Be their neatherd and their shepherd. When the sun to rest has sunken And the bird of Eve is singing As the twilight draweth closer Speak thou to my horned creatures Saying come ye hoofed cattle Come ye homeward trending homeward. In the house ’tis glad and pleasant Where the floor is sweet for resting On the waste ’tis ill to wander Looming down the empty shorelands Of the many lakes of Sutse. Therefore come ye horned creature And the women fire will kindle (#litres_trial_promo) In the field of honeyed grasses On the ground o’ergrown with berries. [The following lines are offset to indicate a change of tone. Kirby’s edition does not so distinguish them, but notes in the Argument at the head of the Runo that it contains ‘the usual prayers and charms’ (Kirby Vol. 2, p. 78). Magoun gives the lines the heading ‘Charms for Getting Cattle Home, Lines 273–314’ (Magoun, p. 232).] Then Palikki’s little damsel And Telenda her companion Take a whip of birch to scourge them And of juniper to drive them From the hold of Samyan’s cattle And the gloomy slopes of alder In the milktide of the evening. [As above, these lines are offset to indicate a shift in tone and separate them from those preceding. Kirby’s Argument notes a charm for ‘protection from bears in the pastures’ (p. 78), while Magoun supplies the heading ‘Admonitory Charms Against Bears, Lines 315–542 (p. 232).] O thou Uru O my darling My Honeypaw (#litres_trial_promo) that rules the forest Let us call a truce together In the fine days of the summer In the good Creator’s summer In the days of Ilu’s laughter That thou sleepst upon the meadow With thine ears thrust into stubble Or conceal thee in the thickets That thou mayst not hear cowbells Nor the talking of the herdsman. Let the tinkling and the lowing And the ringing in the heathland Put no frenzy yet upon thee Nor thy teeth be seized with longing. Rather wander in the marshes And the tangle of the forest. Let thy growl be lost in wastelands And thy hunger wait the season When in Samyan is the honey All fermenting on the hillslopes Of the golden land of Kēme Neath the faring bees a-humming. Let us make this league eternal And an endless peace between us That we live in peace in summer, In the good Creator’s summer. [As with the other separations, this indentation is offset to indicate change in tone, in this case the conclusion or peroration of the lady’s prayers. Neither Kirby nor Magoun so distinguishes these lines. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/verlyn-flieger/the-story-of-kullervo/?lfrom=334617187) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
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