The Book of Dwarf
The Book of Dwarf
Prelude
Wait! Whilst I tell of a wondrous dream
that came to me in the middle of one night
when dwarfs were sleeping on their beds of stone
and all the jewels of heaven sparkled overhead.
[Yes, Snurri the Scribbler is a bit verbose to say the least, Editor]
For, it seemed to me, I heard a wondrous voice
that spoke into the portals of my ears
and breathed upon me hot and fiery breath
[Here, Snurri is trying to lay claim to having seen the Book of Dwarf, albeit in a dream, Editor]
I woke, I deemed, and saw before
the likeness of a book upon a basalt plinth
and when I reached to touch that grain
again the voice boomed out upon me.
[It has always been a significant convenience to claim some kind of divine commandment when making extreme claims. It helps to gain some credibility with the reader, Editor]
And it commanded me to read.
And so did I and turned each marble page
and wondered at the sharp runes within,
bright and black obsidian.
What mystery it was that I could hear
the words as all the marks I scanned
and laid my finger on each one?
Like a new learned child, I marvelled
at the power of those words:
each bright liquid crystal of understanding.
How long I stood and read and touched thereupon?
When at last I turned the stone and found
the pure perfection of the empty page,
I woke and I was alone upon the sullen moors
with all the fell things abroad.
My heart was beating fast
and on my beardless face the sweat did cool.
I grabbed my dirk and cast about
and through the whispering mist did flee
until with mud upon my boots and kilt
and lank hair like snakes upon my head,
I tumbled through the eager door
and crashed upon the hard unyielding flags beneath.