Blade of Erogrund
Taste of Truth

Ennor cursed vehemently. He stepped back from Godric while his muscular, scarred arm drew his giant sword and stabbed its tip deep into the ground as his other arm flexed in anger.

Thain’s mouth gaped open, his wide throat visible even amid his dense beard despite the distance at which they stood apart. His eyes were wide spheres that starred blankly out of the slots of his dark, intricate helmet.

Sarah was equally speechless, her hand going again to cover her wide-open mouth.

What’s wrong? Godric wondered. What’s the deal with this sword? Countless thoughts flew threw his mind like arrows from an army of bows, but all were interrupted when Ennor turned back to him and slammed his arm into the boy’s chest. The force drove out his breath like a hammer, causing him to sputter.

“Hellfire you!” Ennor yelled.

Mira screamed, but nobody had the courage to stop the infuriated warrior. The man clenched his teeth in outrage. His toned forearm shoved the boy against the jagged stone, but he turned away and covered his face with one of his hands.

Thoroughly bewildered, Godric warily looked up at Ennor. It took a moment for him to build the courage to speak. Finally he asked the question that ate at his mind.

“What happened? What did I do? It’s just a sword!”

Ennor gave him a withering glare that caused him to flinch, but the warrior just stalked away silently, out of sight behind the piles of rubble.

Godric felt Mira’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her still terrified face, taking her offered hand and stood up. She gave him a small hug and pulled away quickly.

“Godric, that’s not ‘just a sword’,” She murmured, gesturing to the book that she had carried for the last several days. Its cover was worse for wear - several edges were torn and scorched - but the title was still legible. “Erogrund, if that’s what the sword really is, was Ecthion’s. Legend says that it slew hundreds, if not thousands of Dragons. It’s the greatest weapon ever to be seen or sung of.”

The weight of this information sunk in, but it was hard to process in light of all the events that seemed to fly through his mind.

Thain’s voice broke his thoughts. “The lass is right, son.” The stocky warrior walked toward them. His eyes had changed from blank to a mixture of reluctance and anger. “That is no common sword. That is the last of the Elven Blades, forged many years before the Scourge of Niron before it was in the hands of Ecthion. It has no existing parallel.”

Sarah reached down and picked the sword up by it pommel gingerly, as though it might spontaneously strike her. Runes flashed in the sunlight elegantly as the cold light lingered somewhere in the depths of its crystalline edge.

“Well I don’t want it!” Insisted Godric. “Give it to Ennor; he seems to covet it something fierce.”

Sarah shook her head morosely. “You do not understand. There is so much you do not understand.”

“Then explain to me!”

Thain sighed heavily. “Too much is not known to you.” He looked to Sarah and their eyes met, apparently reaching a consensus. “However, some can be explained. To begin, what do you know of Ecthion?”

Godric shrugged, but Mira answered immediately. “He was the High King of Men during the Scourge of Niron, when all the Dragons descended on Niron from the North Peaks. He fought in Ilmara with the king of the Dwarves and the Queen of the Elves; their names escape me at the moment. Erogrund was his sword. It was renown, according to legend, even before the Scourge, but he used it to slay the final Dragon and ended the destruction. Then he and his line gradually disappeared from history.”

This was all new to Godric, but judging from the title of Mira’s book, she knew much of it.

Sarah nodded. “That is correct. He was a tremendous warrior among men and a noble king. Above all, he was a champion of Men and the wielder of Erogrund, which you,” pointing to Godric, “have already felt the power of. After his death not long after the end of the Scourge, Erogrund was given to his son, Erenthior, and it became an heirloom of the House of Ecthion. The sword was the symbol of the King of Niron and it was cherished by its sons.”

Mira tilted her head questionably. “But the House of Ecthion dwindled quickly. There are almost no records of them after Erenthior.”

“Correct,” Sarah agreed. “However, the Elestil know much that Men do not. We keep not extensive records or dusty books for our memories go back long beyond those of mortal Men. It is the lore of our people that Erogrund was passed from Erenthior to his son, Elliondor, to his son, Eremor, but then it was lost. A war erupted between the cities of the Kingdom of Niron and it was soon broken apart. At the Battle of West Plains, an army of Men destroyed the troops led by Eremor and he was slain, but his son was rescued and fled into the wild. This was well over a hundred years ago.”

“This is all good and well,” Godric interrupted, “but what does it have to do with this sword and Ennor?”

“Because, my boy,” Thain broke in, “the slayer of Eremor took the sword and carried it into many battles.” The dwarf spat with disgust into the dirt. “The barbarian waged war after war until much of Niron was broken apart.”

“But that’s another story,” Sarah intervened.

“Aye, very true,” Admitted the dwarf. “Anyways, in time the warrior died and the sword was passed from warlord to warlord as tiny nations were forged and broken, each in turn for many, many years. While this went on, the son of Eremor survived in the wild and gathered a band of warriors around him that were still loyal to the House of Ecthion. There were not many, but together they crafted their own small nation and became known as the Blue Guard.”

Mira’s eyes widened. “Those thugs are from the descendants of Ecthion?”

Sarah shook her head. “Not so fast. This was the original Blue Guard. They were much different than the bandits you know, or rather knew, before. Eremor’s son grew to a fine leader of the Guard and they slowly began to retake the land that was theirs, but still they did not have Erogrund so they could not fully unite the cities of Niron.”

“It was not long after that disaster struck,” Thain continued. “A new warlord arose to combat Eremor’s son and he had somehow found Erogrund. At this point the Blue Guard had recaptured nearly half of Niron, but so had this fighter and his band. The two kingdom’s contested each other for many years until at last both armies drew together in the valleys just south of Mountain of Cahir, which lies to the northeast. Both armies fought valiantly to be sure, but the Blue Guard fell before Erogrund and broke as the battle wore on.

“Fortunately for the Heir of Ecthion, the warlord who had fought with Erogrund lost the sword in the heat of battle and it was recovered, but the warlord escaped and fled back to his kingdom. It was then that the son of Eremor faced a difficult place,for he could not wield the sword.”

“I don’t understand,” Said Godric. “How come he could not wield the sword? Was he not strong enough?”

Sarah smiled wearily. “No, he was far more than strong enough.” She gripped the sword more tightly with one hand while carefully touching the runes that were inscribed in its lustrous blade. “These are written in Elestil. Our words are more than simple representations of what we mean; our words are the essence of what we described. These words are an oath that bind the person who carries this sword.”

“There is a spell written on the sword?” Mira asked with wonder

“Of sorts,” The elf answered. “The Elestil do not truly use magic as you might believe it to be, but yes, these words carry power beyond what might be expected of them. They are the reason that the Heir of Ecthion could not carry the sword. When this weapon was crafted early in the First Age, its craftsman inscribed these words into the sword so that whoever it was they forged it for would not get it stolen by the hand of an enemy.”

“What do they say?” Asked Godric. The story was enthralling to him, but he still could not completely understand it.

“Even I can not truly read the words as they are transcribed,” Sarah responded. “But the curse of the sword is that whoever possesses it can be the only one to draw blood with its blade. Should another take it and strike a foe, all the injury that they deal would be dealt upon them a hundred-fold. Only if the possessor of the sword is slain can another take the sword. Whoever is the first to draw blood with it is its new owner and to him or her only will it serve.”

“So that is why Ecthion’s heir could not wield the sword while the warlord survived?” Mira concluded.

“Correct,” Grumbled Thain. “He fought well even without Erogrund and in time the warlord died, but no one knows how or when. Still the son of Eremor fought, but he would not carry the sword into battle or use it against his foes because he was not aware that the warlord had passed.

“More time passed, as it has an awful habit of doing, and the son of Eremor also died, leaving Erogrund and his kingdom to his son, Eroth. Eroth was an even more inspiring leader than his father. It was under his guidance that the Blue Guard retook all the lands that had once been under the dominion of Ecthion and peace settled over Niron. Unfortunately, as with all things, this peace did not last.

“It was in the reign of Eroth that a Dragon, which had been previously unseen in the lands of Niron for an Age, tore its wrath across the forests of the North where Eroth’s dominion was greatest. It was unchecked and unstopped for it was great in wrath and ruin, even compared to its peers. Terror gripped the Kingdom of Niron and, for the first time in over half a century, the Blue Guard met a foe they were not prepared to defeat. It inspired horrendous fear in the hearts of Men that ate at them and corrupted their bravery. The stout hearted fled in fear and the ranks of the Blue Guard dissipated even as Eroth struggled to rally them to face the beast.

“Eroth saw this and it came to him that facing the Dragon was all he might do to inspire courage in the souls of his men and so he declared his intention to march against the daemon. However, this brought no comfort to the Blue Guard for they wondered what might happen if Erogrund was lost to the talons of the Dragon. It was for this reason that all attempted to dissuade him of his intentions, but the cities of the North were slowly reduced to smoldering ruins one by one at the claws of the Dragon.

“The army travelled several days to the caverns where the Dragon hid, but when Eroth finally led the hosts against it, they fell with horror. Its fire was greater than any beast or army they had ever faced and all were slain at its vengeance. Eroth did his best to call his men to the Banner of Ecthion, but when at last he stood alone amid the fires of war and the dead of his army, it was revealed that someone had stolen Erogrund and replaced it was a lesser sword. He still fought bravely until his last breath, but a courageous heart is not enough to win a battle. He fell also amid the corpses of the brave, giving in his honorable death a spark of pride to the dying.”

Sarah wiped a single tear from her eye, both of which were distant and filled with emotion. “Where the sword went, no one knew. Rumors abounded, but no one could claim the true location. Eroth’s son, who had not even reached his tenth year, was left to pick up the pieces of a broken kingdom. The Blue Guard was lost. The divisions and platoons that had once been so well trained and respected were nothing more than thieving marauders. The Dragon was left to freely harass the Northern cities until none were left untouched and more such creatures came over the Mountains. Half a dozen such monsters cursed Niron as the kingdom that had been briefly united splintered once again. Eroth’s son had nothing to restore his throne on, not even the legends of an ancients sword. All but the most loyal followers of the House of Ecthion fled into the wild places to escape the Dragons’ fire. These cowardly men that fled from the son of Eroth are those that you know now as the Blue Guard.”

Godric listened to the story intently. At its conclusion something clicked in his mind. Ennor said they were searching for something. That this Dragon was just the beginning; that nothing else would matter if they could not find what they searched for.

“Ennor is Eroth’s son, isn’t he? Ennor is the true King of Niron and the rightful wielder of Erogrund.”

Thain nodded sadly. “Aye, lad. That he is.”

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