Eurmal Stories

These four folk stories concern Eurmal, which was the Theyalan name for the universal Trickster figure (which may or may not have been synthesized into being by the Trickster College of Slontos, a theory which will not be addressed here). While the title of Trickster might bring to mind Mianmo's light-hearted wit and ability to dance around a point, she is here quite clear that the role of Trickster within Heortling culture was to be a negative example of behavior: to show the reason for rules by demonstrating what happened when they were broken.

Eurmal was not a god of Chaos, not inimical to the existence of the world. Indeed, it was necessary in the course of the Lightbringer's Quest, which was carried out by the Seven Lightbringers in order to save and reconstitute all of existence; the world could not have been remade inside of the net called Time without the assistance of Eurmal. But Eurmal is not tame, not good, and not anyone's friend. It is part of the world, but the part that we all would rather overlook and forget: the impulse to be selfish, to take what you do not need, to act without consideration, and to break laws simply because they are there. Such behavior is sadly not unnatural. Eurmal simply is.

Note, however, that Eurmal is allowed to flirt with Chaos, to invite it and its powers of dissolution back into the cosmos. Here we see the origin of a truly horrid Chaos cult (or one of its folkloric origins, at least), after all. This may be reflective of the fact that inside of Time, all of us have the power (should we so abuse it) to invite the inversion of the world back into the world: a world where people eat each other, where what is solid melts away, where broos sing their horrid songs, where Scorpion eagerly clicks her pincers.

There was, there was not...

EURMAL TAKES A NAP

Once, in such and such a direction, there was such and such a clan. They sent their best cattle up to such and such a pasture with Orl Herdsman for the grazing season. One day, Orl was yawning and blinking like a shadowcat, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Eurmal was there. It passed him a waterskin full of beer and said: “Go ahead. I’ll keep watch for both of us.” So Orl drank, then took his hat and lowered it over his face, and thanked Old Elmal for making the day nice and warm.

Eurmal marched back and forth, swatting at the cattle with a switch, and getting kicked for its trouble. But soon enough it kept glancing back at where Orl slept, and frowning heavier and heavier, until it declared: “Why should Orl get all the rest? I’ll hide in his shadow and get a nice nap myself, and when he stirs, I’ll be right awake.”

No sooner did Eurmal curl itself up into a ball in Orl’s shadow then raiders came sneaking into the pasture. Seeing Orl asleep, they drove the cattle out and were halfway across the next hill when the clansmen came to check on their cattle. They dragged Orl out and beat him like a drunken thrall for being a fool.

Eurmal blinked groggily in the sunlight, now that Orl wasn’t being its shade anymore. “Thought we killed you,” it said, squinting up at the sun until its eyes turned black.

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EURMAL HAS A SNACK

Once, in such and such a direction, there was such and such a clan. They received rich blessings from Ernalda, shearing the golden hair off her back. They made beers with it, and flatbreads, and carlrings, and other things which are good to eat, and these things they all put in the lowhouse, and set Yinkin to keep watch over the door.

Eurmal was there. It was so hungry it was gnawing on its own arms. Then it came to the lowhouse and started sniffing around. It drooled so much that a stream gushed out of its mouth, and it watched the water seep through the stones. “I can do that too,” it said, and knocked a stone out of place. Then it took its body apart and tossed all but one arm inside; there, it put itself back together, without an arm, and broke all the pots getting at what was inside, and it ate and ate and ate until it was sick, and then it went right back to eating, using its own sick as a sauce for the flatbread. Then it took itself back apart and tossed all its pieces back out through the hole in the lowhouse; only, its arm wasn’t on the other side, so it couldn’t put itself back together!

When the women of the clan opened the lowhouse and came down the three steps, they found that the food for the ending of the year was all gone. Some of the men went to other clans to ask for help, but they never came back. So the women took all of Eurmal’s parts in their aprons, all but that one arm, and cooked them in the pots. That’s how they learned how to eat men, and come the turning of the year there were none of those left. They were the Ogremothers, those women.

And all the while, Yinkin sat in the corner of the stead, worrying at the bit of bone and meat he’d found out behind the lowhouse. “This tastes funny,” he said, and then kept gnawing on the sinews.

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EURMAL HAS SEX

Once, in such and such a direction, there was such and such a clan. They were feuding with another clan, and it was costing them their best men and their best cattle, and it was costing the other clan the very same. So the women spread out the peace rugs and spoke together in low voices, and they agreed that Erna Weavewoman would marry Orl Herdsman. They came together in Sea Season, when all the flowers bloom, and they managed to get through a wedding without anyone killing anyone else, all because of those good women.

Eurmal was there. It watched the dancing and the kissing and the fireleaping while gnawing on its finger. “It’s not fair,” it said, “I want that, too.” But it didn’t mean the happiness; it fondled its stick in the corner until it was turned out by the clan.

First it stole Erna’s dress and stuck gourds down the front, and when Orl came to bed, he heard Erna’s voice asking him to mount her. Eurmal rode him until he collapsed, and then kept going until he couldn’t walk.

Then it stole Orl’s tunic and stuck a distaff down the front, and when Erna came to bed, she heard Orl’s voice asking to mount her. Eurmal did the same to her, too, and left all satisfied. But both of them had itching, after, and worse.

Come the next Sea Season, Erna gave birth: only, they were all clowns tumbling out of her, striped black and white and walking backwards. Then Orl knew she’d been unfaithful, and sent her back to her father’s household, and the feud roared back to life until both clans were nowhere to be found.

As for its children, Eurmal snuck into the steads of other clans and switched its babies for others, which is why some people are clowns from birth, foolish and doing everything wrong, not understanding what is right to do and what is wrong. “Better them than me,” it said, tossing the babies it stole into the creek to watch them float.

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EURMAL COMMITS SECRET MURDER

Once, in such and such a direction, there was such and such a clan. They were a peaceful clan, rich with trade; every other clan for miles around wanted to marry their women, who knew all the secrets of the arts of the house. They had fine clothing, never wanted for food, and their steadhouses were beautifully made.

Only, one day, Erna Weavewoman was found dead there, her throat slit like a sacrifice. Her clan was furious, and her brothers and her uncles demanded her price from the peaceful clan, since they did not want a feud. But the women of the peaceful clan refused to pay the full price, saying that no one from their clan would ever kill a guest, and that it must have been an accident. The brothers and the uncles gnawed on their fingers and thought about this, and then came to the conclusion that it must have been Orl Herdsman who did the deed. So they went to his stead, and they barred the gate, and they set it on fire. Only, Orl’s brothers caught up with them before they could leave the tula, and there was a fight, with dead on both sides.

After that Orl’s family bought good spears and war paint, and they went and found a stead, and they barred the gate and set it on fire; only, though these were Erna’s clansmen, none of them had been in the fight. After a few more stead burnings, back and forth, Erna’s clan finally came all at once, singing the Humakt songs, wearing the black paint and the white paint, and after that day all of the secrets of the clan would be ash and smoke.

They passed Eurmal on the way, picking at its teeth with its knife. “Tula’s that direction,” it said, grinning, and pointed back over its shoulder with the knife. “Save me a rug, would you?"