Bevoluf the Conqueror

[Divine Intervention]

The Tome of Champions
By Jorvamund Eirskarl

Herein lies a record of the great deeds of valiant men, forever remember them, lest we forget their sacrifices and honour.


Bevoluf the Conqueror

The Birth of Man

In the dawning of days, when the earth was  first brought forth from the heaving oceans, and the sun, moon and  stars were scattered across the sky by the titan Thanarak, the Gods sat together and bent their will to the shaping of the races that would inhabit the lands they had forged.  First came the elves, and their deities decreed that these would be the fair folk, long lived and fae of nature, masters of the woodland realms.  Then came the dwarves and gnomes, and their Gods spoke and did decree that these would be the stout folk, smiths and craftsmen, forever to rule over the deep places of the world, born of stone and metal.  Next came the halflings, small and cunning, to this people the urge to wander and a homeliness was bestowed.  Unto them the hills and rolling fields of the new earth were granted to make their homes and venture from.  

As each of the pantheons departed with their servants to watch over their people, one God remained and he sat in silence to wonder what people He should bring forth.  For many passings of the moon and sun He sat and wondered and then it came to Him and He took up the very essence of things and from it He made man.  As he looked in wonder on his idea come to life, he knew that man was a complex being, and that he alone could not watch over all aspects of his creation.  He spoke one last time unto man and said,
"Go forth and prosper, I do not grant you long life, nor all a mastery of one art, but I have made you each unique and you shall be the most numerous of these races we have made.  Spread far and wide with my blessing and grow strong as you learn, this is my will."

With His last words to his people, the Great Creator, Father of Man mustered his power and unmade himself, to become many not one, for man was many and so must be his Gods.  In His sacrifice the first Gods of Man were born.

The Seeking

As the last words of the Creator rang out from the heavens, the many clans and tribes of men departed the Cradle of the Dawn to build cities and empires in all lands.  Many were lazy, idle, feeble or weak and these men perished in the journey or settled in lands of easy living, there to waste their days in sloth and slumber.  Some men took to the seas, some to the hills and some to the deserts there to carve their names into the lands with great feats.  

Of all though, there was one man who was stronger and bolder than all the rest, Bevoluf they named him and he lead he people further than any other chieftain.  Onwards he marched and his loyal followers trailed in his wake, seeking always the place where he would make a home for his clan.  Many times he would settle and spend summers and winters in comfort, but he was discontent, for he knew this was not his fate.  Driven on by his restless spirit he journeyed ever Northwards, beyond the forests and rolling plains until he reached the snowy vast of the Far North.  Many refused to go on, they thought it folly to enter the lands of ice, for it was too inhospitable for the means of mortal men to survive they claimed, but Bevoluf knew that this was to be his land.

Leaving behind those who would not press on, Bevoluf lead his stalwart clansmen across the vast rivers and ice fields of the frozen lands until one bitter morning, as the sun rose high above the distant mountains, the fog that covered the land did part and before him lay a valley.  Bountiful was this vale upon which he set his gaze, for in it's rivers swam shoals of salmon and in it's deep pine woods roamed foal and fowl for the hunting. With surety in his heart he at last knew he had found a Home for his clan.  

The Proving

Gladly did his people rejoice in this choice of Bevoluf's and with pride he planted his walking stave amidst the pines to mark the site of a grand Meadhall for his clan to revel in.  As the tip of his worn old stave touched the earth, the heavens did rumble as they had in the dawning and from on high spoke a Voice of great power and magnitude, a bellowing roar like thunder which shattered the quiet of the vale.

"Bevoluf, know that I have watched and witnessed thy deeds as thou hast travelled across these lands.  Thou art determined I see to settle in this place, so far beyond the endurance of lesser men.  I am well pleased with thee and you shall be my blessed people, but understand this paradise does not come without a price.  Each summer you will toil and live in peace, but come the winter I cannot shield you from the wrath of the jealous.  'Ware and heed me well for you shall be tested by the will of the Frostmaiden most cruel."

Accepting of this challenge, determined to win this vale for his people, Bevoluf resolutely set to work with his clan, building for them home and hearth.   For many days and weeks they worked and with the sweat of their brow they made their sanctuary, but the days of summer are swift to die in the vast North and with the inexorable march of time came the icy grip of winter.   Long weeks did pass and the snows piled up around his village, but Bevoluf was wise and his people were well stocked for these endless snows with the bounty of warmer times to keep them fed.  

As the snows grew deeper and the days darker, a thudding could soon be heard in the camp of Bevoluf, a distant booming from the heart of the frozen peaks of the North, growing closer and ever louder.  For seven days and seven nights the thudding swelled in volume, resolving itself to the sound of footsteps of a truly enormous beast.  At dawn on the eight day the Voice of the heavens did echo once more amidst the vale.

"Bevoluf, the hour of your greatest proving is at hand, go forth to the highest peak of this valley and there you shall find and confront your foe, sent by the Icemaiden to drive your people from these lands."

With a hard heart and a steely determination, Bevoluf took up his axe, a weapon so hefty only a man of his great strength could bear to wield it, with a haft of oak and a head of granite.  He walked for hours as the sun rose in the sky and eventually reached the summit of the tallest peak, whereupon he gazed into the face of his enemy, the King of Ice Giants, Grazanak.  In one mighty hand the creature bore a blade of razor sharp ice, a sacred relic of Auril known only as "The Heart of Winter" and crowning his brow sat a circlet of gems, each the frozen prison of a soul lost to the wastes of the North.  

Any lesser man might have fled when confronted with a beast of such fearsome prowess, but Bevoluf was unshaken, for he knew it was his destiny to triumph over the wicked machinations of the Ice Queen.  Thus, with a warcry so loud it rocked the foundations of the mountain, Bevoluf charged and battle was joined.  The two champions, giant and man struggled back and forth, matching blow for blow in mortal combat.  Alas though, Bevoluf realised that not even a man of his great physique and prowess could match a giant's strength forever, but wise and cunning was our hero too and as the duel dragged on and the sun sank lower, his moment came.  

The dying embers of the red sun blazed in the splendour of a last showing before darkness covered the world and caught in the eyes of Grazanak, blinding the furious monstrosity.  Seizing his chance, Bevoluf scoured the mountain top with his gaze for some last hope to grant him victory and noted a spur of rock jutting from above.  With a speed and skill born of dire need he scaled the cliff face behind and clambered up to the spur as the giant raged at the hated light of the sun.  

As the last embers of light faded from the world the Giant,  freed from it's blindness turned on Bevoluf and charged, it's sword  held high to sweep him from his perch.  Awaiting his moment, Bevoluf stood silent, and then with a mighty roar he brought his axe down upon the spur of rock.  Once, twice, thrice he roared and crashed stone on stone, until with a thunderous crack, the jagged spur snapped from the cliff and fell.  Down it fell, straight onto the head of Grazanak, shattering his crown of souls and cleaving his almost in two.  With his life force banished the Giant's form shattered, scattering icicles across the North and great shards into the frozen seas to become the first Icebergs.  

With Grazanak dead a shriek erupted from the Far North, the ploy of the Ice Queen failed and Man standing triumphant, the chill air did warm some small amount and Bevoluf knew he had done well.  From the heavens, the Voice spoke one last time unto Bevoluf.

"Thou hast done well Bevoluf, vanquisher of Grazanak.  My  faith in thee was not misplaced.  Thou hast conquered winter and know  that whilst each year the Frostmaiden will try again to rout thypeople,  so long as thou keepest thy hearth fires close and thy axes to hand,  thou shalt not fail in this challenge.  I am the Foehammer, Father of  Battle and I do name you my chosen people, fight well and prosper!"

To this day in the lands of my home we still celebrate Bevoluf's victory over Grazanak and the Frostmaiden each year at Midwinter, with a grand feast and we tell this tale to remember that even in the darkest of days, there is hope that spring will rise anew once the cold blackness is past.