Metafiction, Myth and Language: A World in Words (and Pictures)

  The Ylfu – the ‘elves’ of my world – whilst ensconced in their mighty subterranean barrow beneath their ancient city Dofran (the OE name for Dover, complete with ‘steadfast white sea-walls’), are more precisely informed by Welsh culture, especially the bardic tradition, which underlines the poetry recited in the court of Yldfreah (the name which our narrator gives to the Ylf-lord – his name literally ‘Old lord’, which is more of a title really – cf. the Old Norse fertility god, Freyr, and probably one given to him by the narrator as a reference to his own linguistic culture). Hence the very Welsh-derived lament which the Ylfish bard Meloth sings in honour of the leader of Gifli’s expedition: 'The Song of Haeleth of the Dawn’s-Light' ‘Seven we were, and seven we fell, seven in strength, by honour bound now none but names, now none remain, to light the lands of multitudes. For while we stood, we held our ground and seven by seven foes in rage could not bear battle at our shield

    New addition to the ever-growing library arrived yesterday: The Cambridge Companion to Old English Literature , primarily for J. D. Niles' often-cited essay Pagan Survivals and Popular Belief, which covers many areas of folklore in the Anglo-Saxon period, although the other contents look to be invaluable in terms of background research, also. One of the most exciting aspects of writing this epic poetic work - and developing its background and narrative themes - is its sheer dynamism and fluidity, where new research, interests and readings have been able to feed directly into its development and suggest new directions, stories, parallels, and reference points, especially those gathered through the Old English Texts  Semster 2 Humanities module. For example: The Ruin directly influenced the ubi sunt nature of the heroes' arrival in the land of the Ylfu, (the elf-like race who have lived in voluntary exile beneath the earth for countless generations), and exposed the illusor

(A change to today's planned post, since for some reason Blogger (Google) has chosen not to allow me to upload any images. Instead, some written reflections upon one of the themes during the main narrative - that of the land itself, not just specifically of the small, mythical nation 'Gyldland' of the title, but of all land everywhere - including ours.) The title of chapter XXIV, ‘The Visitors’, is a deliberate ploy: at first, as it is presented, a trio of hostile animal and bird-headed spirit-beings announce themselves to King Hodar’s camp at night in a blaze of baneful light, bearing dire warnings. Yet as the chapter concludes, it is clear who the real ‘visitors’ truly are – the heroes themselves, and by extension all sentient races, who have merely ‘lease’ upon the land which has been defended and guarded by these nature spirits ‘since day first dawned’. The lives of kings and heroes are temporal – the land is eternal, and so its guardians. While rather unfairly picking