dannydmc

For three years I have been hard at work on an epic poem. I usually say that the idea came to me one evening at a coffee shop when, while reading Beowulf, I realised that many of the old heroic myths were pretty similiar to the tales told by old men sitting around bars to this very day. I thought it would be an interesting idea to take one of those old stories and put it in a more modern setting and see how it came out. Around the same time I had become frustrated with many of the people who read poetry at that same coffee shop; much of their work was about nothing buy peace, love and the usual topics of poets who desperately aspire to be either Hippies or Beatnicks. It was also terribly pretencious (I know; me faulting others for being pretencious!). I figured it might be a good idea to write an epic of the old style which would be filled with fighting and brave deeds, and which would hopefuly cause the pseudo-hippies to run, screaming, from the coffeehouse with ears bleeding. I figured it would be about 10 pages long and fairly comedic.
THree years later, I've just passed the 50 page mark The story itself, nearly from the beginning, stopped being a comedy, and I began to take it much more seriously. From that time onwards, its been burning a hole in my brain; I can't seem to get it out.
Now, being me, I have wanted to share this story for some time. Having been working on it for some time, there is a great deal of me in it; I've most likely revealed more about myself within its pages than I have in any other way. But, its not finished! Also, suprisingly few people are unwilling to sift through 50 pages of uncompleted poetry. Therefore, in honor of the occasion, I've decided to write out the tale in prose.
I hope that you all will enjoy this little story which has become, to be at least, very much a love ode to the heroic myths I was raised on, as well as to my homeland; the beloved Wisconsin

The Tree Splitters: A Prose Rendition
By: Dan McCollum

Once upon a time in the land of Bavaria, far across the Eastern ocean, there lived a bold Knight by the name of Dietrich. Dietrich was the greatest warrior in all of the Kingdom, a famed rifleman, and was loved by both the people of the Kingdom as well as by the King himself. So loved was this warrior that the King decided to give the hand of his old child, Wilda, to Diertrich to web. Dietrich had long loved the fair princess, and was overjoyed; the happy couple was married on Christmas day.
But the happiness was not to last; for soon the wedding bliss would be shattered in the most horrid way. Shortly after the wedding, Wilda became pregnant; it was a long and terrible pregnancy and soon after giving birth to a son, Sigismund, Wilda passed from this world to the next.
Great was Deitrich's grief, seeing his wife and true love perish. But even more sorrow was to soon follow, for many of the advisors to the King feared the influence of the warrior and feared even more the thought that his son would someday become King. They hatched a plot, and soon began whispering lies into the ears of many within the Kingdom that Dietrich had killed fair Wilda in an effort to gain the throne for himself. The King, although usually wise and noble, was sick with grief and upon hearing these horrid tales he became convinced they were the truth.
Deitrich was brought forth before the King and accused of the crime by one of the chief advisors at the court. At hearing the charges, he exploded in a rage, grabbed his rifle and shot his accuser dead on the spot. He then realized the importance of his actions and realised his life was over; and that, furthermore, should be die that there would be no one to protect his young son. He fled from the court, took Sigismund and entered into exile.

Now, it so happens that many were leaving the ancient land of Bavaria and the surrounding Kingdoms then, seeking adventure and oppertunity in the new world of America. One place in particular drew Dietrich; fabled Wisconsin, with its fertile fields and thick ancient forests. He and his son left Bavaria with little more than the clothes upon their backs; soon they were on a ship setting sail for that land.
Deitrich arrived in Wisconsin and spent several years living alone in those great woods; although he survived, he did not prosper and there was many a night when he and Sigismund went hungry. After one particullarly hard time, he decided that the time had come to take employment. He entered into contract with Skule Thorson, and gained the lumbercrews of S and T Lumber. Dietrich loved being a lumberjack; for the first time in years he felt content with his life. It was said that he could cut more timber than any other man in the camp; he was once again loved and respected by all.
Word eventually reached Skule Thorson of this remarkable man who came from Bavaria, which gave him an idea. Skule has a witless son named Karl, who was thought weak of body and mind by his Father. Skule hoped that an extended time in the forest might do his boy good; he gave Karl the job of Foreman, but then came to Deitrich and asked him to teach the young boss of the ways of the lumbercamp. Dietrich readily accepted, he had always enjoyed instructing others.
Karl, however, proved to be a figure of derision amongst the other jacks, who mocked him for his city ways and his disdain for hard work. Being a young man, this bothered him greatly, and so the young Thorson hatched a plan to win the respect of the camp once and for all; he decided to head out into the woods himself and scout out the next patch of White Pines by himself.
Deitrich heard this plan and was horrified; he liked his student, but knew that the young man had no chance of surviving the harsh Wisconsin winters by himself. He urged Karl to not go out, but was unable to. The young foreman left early one morning, just before a North Western wind blew a blizzard down upon the Lumbercamp.
Deitrich knew immediately what must be done; he grabbed a wood axe and headed out into the woods himself. For three days he tracked young Karl, making hast but not able to catch the boy who moved much faster than the old warrior would have expected. Finally, however, he reached the crest of the hill and saw Karl below.
Karl was in a horrid state, weakened by hunger and fatigue he had made good prey for a pack of wolves who were now attacking the hapless foreman. Deitrich, seeing this, let out a shout and charged into battle. Many a wolf was laid low by the blade of that axe, which forever after would be known as "Wolves' Bane". Finally only the Wolf King himself was left alive; the King and Warrior faced one another and charged, the wolf lept up and bit into Deitrich's leg who bucked and hurled his attacker against a tree. Then, in a battle rage, he brought down Wolves' Bane upon the King's head, blanketing the white snow with its blood.
Wounded, the warrior picked up Karl who was still alive and began the long trek began to the camp. They arrived several days later, wounded and tired, but alive. Word soon came back to Skule Thorson of the heroic tale; taking the train he soon arrived at the camp and interviewed all. Karl readily admitted his actions and how he had been saved by Deitrich; his honesty greatly impressed Skule who proclaimed his son grown up. He then went to Detrich and offered the man the position as Foreman. Deitrich pledged his loyalty to Skule and accepted the position.
The next week, during a great festival which involved the eating of great quantities of food and the drinking of many kegs of beer, Deitrich shook hands with Skule and officially became Foreman. He would reign as the Prince of the Pines for many years, and much was said of his rule, until a great tragedy fell upon the camp; sending his son Sigismund on a quest for vengeance which, it was prophesied, would not end until he himself was dead. And it is with those words that our tale truely begins.

To be continued

(this work and story is copywrited by me. Don't even think of stealing it! )