dannydmc

(this entry was interupted by Dan going to a bar wher an Irish bad, unexpectedly, was playing. Plese excuse an drunken type brought on by the 5.5 beers he drank and the Irish music)


Lately I've been looking back through the epic I finished several months back. Those of you who've been reading my journal for a while might well remember that I've spoken of that poem oft times before. In fact, a year or so ago I labored at writing a prose version which I posted in this forum in an effort to work through the story in my own head before I attempted it in verse.
The prose version petered out after several weeks, much to my own dissapointment. I can work on the same poem for three years running, but apparently I get bored and distracted if I concentrate on bloging about the same topic for too long.
In my defence there was a lot going on at that time (a quick look through my backlog will uncover roughly 4 or so 'missing' entries from October 2006. Said entries were removed because they delved into my feelings of teaching, perhaps, a bit too deeply and caused no small amount of embarrasment when they were uncovered by someone in the village I was teaching in). Suffice to say, it wasn't a good time and, as I poured more and more of myself into the poem, and neglected to keep ip on the prose version.
Where is this going? Well, as a treat to my long term readers, I've decided to finish the story over the course of the next couple of weeks.
However, I know for a fact that many people have begun to read my rambling entries since that time. So, being the nice guy I am, I'm going to include the links here to the previous instalations. Take a look at them, I think you might well like the tale (of course, I WOULD say that, wouldn't I?)
You'll have to excuse the stilted writing; the story itself is better told in poetry form where the formal speaking rings truer to the ear. But I'm not evil enough to post a 136 page poem to journal. Or, AM I?

The Tree Splitters: Episode One

The Tree Splitters: Episode Two

The Tree Splitters: Episode Three

The Tree Splitters: Episode Four

The Tree Splitters: Episode Five

There you go, you've done you're reading? Good. Now lets get ourselves into the right mood for the great tale you are about to hear. Sit down here around the fire and amongst your friends I tell those tale of tragedy and heroics. Of a hero who dared to battle against fate itself, and the beast which was to become his doom.

When we last left Sigismund and his band, they had sallied forth against the Wendigo, a giant beast which had killed his Father and many friends in an attack on the Lumber camp. Although the hero eventually tracks the monster down, he's unable to kill it; his Father's axe shattered on the Monster's head and he is only saved by a forest fire which developes and scares the Wendigo off.
The band finds him, barely alive. They take his body and flee blindly north until they come upon a small Chippewa village ruled by the kindly Cheif Buffalo (a real person, as a matter of fact) who welcomes them in and gives them shelter. Sigismund's body is cured, but his mind remains wounded by the battle. The Cheif convincs him to stay in the village until Summer when they can get him help on the island of La Pointe in Lake Superior.
Our hero agrees, and offers to help around the village as much as possible. He quickly becomes one of the best hunters. One day, while out hunting, he gives chase to a 30 Point Buck which appears to lead him to a young womand washing clothes by the River. Her name is Winona, the Cheif's daughter, and two instantly fall in love. even though she predicts that if he continues in his quest, he will one day cause her death. She eventually tells him to return to camp and ask her Father for advice; he knows more of the Wendigo than he's said so far.


The great Northwoods where our story takes place


Fall in the Nortenwald; winter stands ready to pounce and make war against the Summer. The Wendio prepares to share the woods with its howl.

The Tree Splitters: Episode Six (Prose Edition)

Sigismund, the great lumberman returned to the village in the daze of love; his skin burned hot and his eyes were vacant, a small smile was frozen upon his face. The other lumberman, his comrades and friends, saw this expression and were overjoyed; their poor cheif, so badly wounded in his battle against the demon Wendigo, had smiled little in past months.
"Brave Sigismund", one bold fellow called out, "I've seen that look upon the face of many. Our cheif has found love at last. Tell us, did you find a young deer out there in the woods? Did you have to chase off a rutting buck to get her?"
"A deer?", another man yelled. "Our brave lord here would never be interested in such a creature. Now a porcupine, thats more to his liking! Short, far and mean as hell. Besides, it takes skill to make love and avoid the stickers!"
Sigismund let out a bellowing laugh which echoed through the forest, "Oh shut you're mouths, you lazy whelps. The only thing you know of love, you learned from watching the cows on your father's farms. How many farmers found you in the barn with their sheep over the years?" The men all shared a great laugh, because they were pleased to see their lord back to his old self.
"We'll continue this another time", Sigismund said, "I have to have words with our host. Have you seen him?"
The men told him that their host, the cheif of the village, was in his lodge, waiting for the pine prince's return. Sigismund nodded at the news and walked off, the smile slowly dropping from his face and an unease coming over him as he did so. Even a brave man might quake at the thought of expressing his love of a girl to her Father, and the Cheif was no ordinary Father; though he had extended every hospitality to the Lumbermen, Sigismund worried about offending him.
He came to the Cheif's home and knocked on the wall, "Come in", a clear voice called out from within. Sigismund took a deep breath and walked inside.
"Ah! My young friend, come and sit down", the elder man said with a smile.
Sigismund nodded and sat down.
"What brings you to my home on a night like tonight?"
"I bear tidings from your Daughter, Winona [Note: Hurit in the last entry]. She told me to tell her that she loves you."
A twinkle lit up the Old Man's eyes, "Ah, she did, did she? I don't suppose she had anything else to say, by chance?"
Sigismund took several seconds to collect his thoughts. "As a matter of fact, she did; yes. She told me that she was aware of my journey, wished me well, and told me to ask you what you know of the creature that I chase."
A cloud fell over the Cheif's features and now it was his turn to sigh deeply. "You must understand", he said, "that I had every intention of telling you when the time was right. I had hoped that I might convince you and your friends to settle here with us in this village. We always have need of strong arms here, and already your people and mine have taken to one another."
Sigismund shook his head, "Nothing would please me more than to stay here with you; but we've pledged ourselves to killing the Wendio. The God's themselves have heard my vows. I could not turn back now, even if I wished to; the killer of my Father must pay with its own life. How many more must die before its cries are choked off once and for all."
"Truely, it suprises me. Your people are brave and strong, and yet none have ever struck out to kill this creature? Fear doesn't seem to rest in your hearts, and yet that demon continues to menace these woods!"
The Cheif bristled slightly, but refused to rise at the bait dangled before him, "Yes, many of our men have gone against the fiend that you track. None have returned. My own son sallied forth against it many years ago; his bones were found the next summer, still clutched his box in hand. All of the flesh had been stripped from them. There was little left."
Sigismund bowed his head; "I'm sorry; I spoke rashly and meant no disrespect. But this just proves why I have to kill the Wendigo; so no one else will have to suffer the death of a loved one. Now, tell me; what do you know of the creature?"

The Chief chose his words carefully. "There once was a Frenchman in these parts, many years ago. He was a trader; he bought furs from the tribes here and sold them to his people in Europe. His name, I believe, was Henri St. John and he was a good man; brave, kind to his friends, and honest. Much like someone else I know. He had one problem, however; an obsession in fact. He was in love with gold, and was always searching for ways to get more"
" One day he heard stories of a creature said to live in the midst of the Northwoods; the Hodag. It was a rare animal, as large as a moose, and covered in the scales of a snake with the teeth of a pike. The Trader came to believe that, if he could catch one, its hide would be worth a great deal of money in Quebec. He became obsessed with the notion, no matter how many times he was told that to search for the Hodag in winter would be suicide."
"Finally, a friend of his, a local guide, agreed to go out with him. Whether he thought his friend's plan was good, or if he only wished to keep him safe, I can not tell you. What we do know is that they left in the middle of a thaw in January in good spirits. They traveled towards the land where the city of Tomahawk is now. All was going well until suddenly a storm blew in upon them; one of the great blizzards we used to have in those days."
"The two took shelter in a cave, hoping to wait the storm out. Perhapse the storm wasn't naturaly, or maybe it was; but the snows fell upon them for five days. Soon they had run out of food, and the panic of starvation took ahold of both men. The trader, one night, woke to find a demon standing above him; it whispered advice in his ears, telling him to take a knife and slit the throat of his friend. That if he did so, he would have all the food he would ever need."
"The trader was in a trance, and did as the voice told him. With tears in his eyes, he watched his friend die, and then began to feed on the corpse. For two days he did nothing but eat the flesh of his friend; and then the storm stopped and he left to return to the village."
"When he came here, he told us that his friend had dissapeared while looking for food in the storm. We excepted the tale at first, but were supisious; the man looked too well fed to have been locked away for over a week in a cave. Many began to question the truth of the man's story, although none of us wanted to believe the worst."
"The next spring a hunter came upon the bones of the man; he noticed the gnaw marks on the bones and became terrified; he fled back here to camp and told the story. By that point, several local hunters had dissapeared and everyone had become frightened. The hunter's story was the final straw; a group confronted the trader and, with tears running down his face, he admitted to the deed and begged forgiveness."
The cheif shook his head, "There can be no cure for a man who has come under the curse of the Wendigo and tasted the flesh of another. We banished him from the village, chased him into the woods and prayed that the matter was sealed. But it was not the case; as years went on the trader lost more and more of his humanity; the more he ate, the larger he got, the more powers he developed. But, at the same time, the hungrier he got. He had become a Wendigo and has haunted these hills ever since."
Sigismund stood up and looked across at the Chief, "Your tale is a sad one, But the fire in my belly growes more ferious.as the words spill from your lips."
"As I feared", spoke the Chippewa cheif "know that I am proud of my future son for your burden. There are weapons I will give you; a cloak made from the hhie of a Wendio and two hatchets carved from its bones. But only after you have been healted by the wiraculous man who lives on la Pointe"
Then Sigisnund thought hot easy it would be to take these treasurees; but a small voice cautioned "no, the Chippewa Cheif has been an ally, and good to you. Only a theif would take by force what ios given." and the rage in his soul was quieted.
"I will be healed by the man of La Pointe, and then fight the dancingg demn as best i can. A foe I will not be to your tribe, for they have treated me as well as they could"
Then Cheif Buffalo perceived the struggle in Blond BVeard's mind and smiled "So iut shall be. I will give my gifts when you've grown strong again. You're a good man, the greatest of the land"

Top be continued ...