The Boy, the Giant, and the Sword of the Tree

In the heart of Norway, nestled in a deep valley was the enslaved town of Swellsander.

Ulf the giant, came many years ago and levied a tax on the town: 6 oxen, 12 sheep and 3 maidens. If they did not pay he would demolish the town, kill the men and eat the women and the livestock. So they cowered to the giant and gave him his tax.

The town looked for a champion that would save them: the champion who could wield the sword of the tree.

For even longer ago, Fjolkoner the slayer, killed most of the giants in the land. And his sword was believed to possess magical abilities. Once his eyes were dimmed by old age, he took his sword and stabbed it into the Earth beside a sapling of Shagbark Hickory. The tree grew and consumed the sword and, in time, died.

Now, in the middle of the fallen carnage, stoond the stump, out of whom protrudes the sword. And the townspeople believed that the champion who had the power to retrieve the sword, would be the champion who would slay the giant.

Many warriors, knights, and fortune hunters came from far and wide to claim the renowned sword, some actually meant to face the giant, once they had the sword.

Summer set in and a knight, a champion, and a warrior strolled into town. They paid Wolfen, the stable boy, to carry their arms as they moved about the town. The four of them scouted and spied out the location of the sword, the challenges involved, and the competitors in the area.

Finally after a week of inquiry, they approached the path that led to the sword. The first obstacle was a thigh-deep pool at the foot of the waterfall, and the falling stones that the waterfall was eroding.

The yellow knight, clad in chain maille and yellow surcoat, and armed with a sword and shield, came from a settlement in the grassy planes, where daisies grew. As a matter of fact, there was a daisy emblazoned upon his yellow shield.

Taking his sword and shield from Wolfen, he waded out into the thigh-deep water. He held his shield over his head to deflect the falling fist-sized rocks. They thudded and banged then splashed into the flowing water below.

Then he trudged forward and faced the second obstacle, the thirty-foot waterfall. He thrust his hands into the pounding water and grasped the slippery rocks. One after another, he climbed from rock to rock. Halfway up, his strength failed him and he lowered himself back down.

Next came the champion. He wore blue linen and came from a harbor town. He was quite used to moving in the water, for it was just like pushing a longboat out to sea, and it was nothing for him to evade the falling stones. At full strength he began to climb the waterfall. But he had scarcely reached the edge when he became weak because of the constant downpour. His hand slipped on the cold wet rocks and he fell back down to the pool.

As the townsmen fished the champion out, the warrior stepped forward.

He had come from the mountains, and clothed himself in white wool and bearskins. The mighty warrior slowly passed through the pool, to conserve energy. And any rock that fell within range of him, he caught or batted away with his big hands.

Living in the mountains had accustomed him to icy surfaces, so with little effort he climbed through the waterfall, and reached the most slippery rocks at the edge of the cliff.

Finally, he crossed the grassland at the top of the cliff, and found the ruined Shagbark hickory. There it was the sword of Fjolkoner. The warrior’s palms sweated as he hesitantly reached for the hilt. A thousand thoughts passed through his mind, as he stood there, arm extended.

Like a whip, he withdrew his hand and sped away, dropping his weapons.

A week passed and the townspeople watched the falls, waiting for the warrior to return. Finally, Wolfen said that he would go and see what befell the him.

The yellow knight advised Wolfen to carry the knight’s shield over his head, like he had done, and to be agile, like the champion, and to move slowly and conserve strength, like the warrior.

Wolfen took the knight’s shield and held it over his head, then waded slowly into the water. The rocks clanked then splashed all around him as he move toward the waterfall. The weighty flow broke upon his crown, as he slung the shield across his shoulder, and began climbing the slippery stones.

Had he not carried their weapons and armor for the last two weeks, the water would have peeled him off the rocks. He gritted his teeth and worked his way up one hand at a time.

Grasping the edge, he pulled himself up with the last of his strength. The grassy plains seemed to extend in all directions. Wolfen had no idea where to go, he just meandered in the most likely direction.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the stump, gazing upon the sword. He reached out and took it. There was not a magic barrier, or lightnings; no fiery guardians or dragons; just a sword in a stump! Wolfen, sword in hand, made his way back to the waterfall.

Letting himself down was just as wearisome and time consuming as when he climbed it. With the last of his arm’s strength, he lifted the shield over his head and waded back through the pool.

The townspeople cheered and applauded as the stable boy held the sword aloft.

Through the commotion Wolfen saw the warrior lurking in the shadows. He walked over and asked what had happened to him.

The warrior hung his head and said that he could not allow himself to take the sword if he did not intend to face the giant. But he had not the courage, so he shamefully fled.

Wolfen assured him that there was no shame in declining the challenge.

To that the warrior thanked him and led him back to the crowd.

They sang and danced and feasted all night, all except Wolfen. He collapsed on his straw bed and fell fast asleep.

The next morning, they set the sword in the town square to see who would take it and be the champion, who would slay the giant. The meeting went on for hours; they discussed, voted, nominated, and argued, but came to no decision.

While they bickered, they were interrupted but the thundering and taunting of Ulf, as he approached the town. Everyone fled for their lives; where once was clatter, silence now smothered.

Wolfen looked out from the stables and saw the sword by itself in the town square. Fearing the giant would recognized the sword and take it, he dashed out and grabbed it’s hilt. But before he could run, Ulf walked into the square behind him.

The giant looked down on him and guffawed. Faced with no other choice, Wolfen challenged the giant, who in turn laughed even harder. Wolfen swallowed hard and stepped closer.

The yellow knight caught Wolfen’s attention from a near by door, and slid his shield to him. The giant reached into the bag on his belt, pulled out rocks, and cast them at Wolfen, just for fun.

Once again, Wolfen held the shield aloft and deflected the falling boulders. He ran up under the giant, and climbed the vine-like hairs of his leg.

Ulf wiggled and kicked, but Wolfen held fast, for it was just like scaling the waterfall. He climbed up passed Ulf’s bearskin shorts, and beyond his thick leather jerkin.

The giant flailed and grunted, trying to knock the stable boy off of his shoulders.

The sword of Fjolkoner, flashed like lightning in the mid-day sun, as Wolfen held it high.

Down! Carving air and flesh, the sword swung true.

Wolfen, a stable boy, was the champion who saved the town.

The End