Side Chapter 15. The lord's price.

One sunday mornin Lambton went, a fishing in the Wear, he catched a fish upon his hyuek, he thowt it very queer,

but what a kind of fish it was, young Lambton couldn’t tell,

He couldna fash tea carry it hyem, so he hoyed it doon the well.

The Lambton Wyrm

The lord had been away at the Crusades for many years now, and when he returned home it was to find his land being ravaged by a wyrm of tremendous size. The wyrm would steal lambs, sheep and even cattle. It was so great in size that to rest, it would coil itself ten times round a nearby hill, and still have space left.

Hearing the description of the creature, and where it came from, he learned it was the same creature he had thrown away before heading out to the Holy Land all those years ago. The guilt at inadvertently unleashing such a beast upon his own domain gnawed away at him until it became insufferable.

Eventually, the threat was too great and he knew something had to be done. He took a dozen men and prepared to battle the beast. Yet when he faced the creature despite his best efforts it rebuffed him, for hours and hours the battle raged on, with the mighty beast snapping lances like a child's toys, blades bouncing from the creature's gleaming hide as if they were nothing. In the end, only he returned from the battle alive.

It took time to gather more men, and while he did the wyrm’s hunger grew insatiable, and the raids grew worse.

The next time he rode out to battle he was better prepared, and caught the beast by ambush. Two score of his best warriors, and weeks of planning, yet it still was not enough to lay the creature low. The desperation was growing in the lands now, as the beast had moved on from hunting livestock to children, and any attempt to reason with it only showed that all reason had long since fled.

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Eventually, he heard whispers of a way to defeat the wyrm once and for all. He had to seek out the lady at the crossroads, and be ready to pay a price for the knowledge he sought. Normally, the lord would never entertain such an idea, but desperation makes fools of us all. So one night, he waited in the darkness at the old crossroads with a pocketful of gold, willing to pay for the knowledge he sought.

The woman came to him in a hooded robe, and deep inside he knew whatever was beneath that hood was not human, but his options were exhausted so he laid out the coins before her and begged her aid.

“You think I want your worthless coin mortal?” She spat, then contempt was clear in her voice. "Coin for the likes of ye hauds nea worth. Yecan always get mair, and the blood shed for it is na valued mair than livestock.”

“Then what do ye seek as payment if na coin, land? Servants?”

“Just like a mortal tea think of such worthless things. Ye want mi aid, the price I ask is the body of the first thing ye clap eyes on after your victory, laid tea rest alongside the body of the wyrm itself. I’ll accept nowt less. Follow through with this bargain and one day your ancestors will profit greatly by your actions. But steer ous wrang, or break your word and your ancestors will pay in blood the price ye didna.”

The lord agreed to the price, as he already had a plan. He was told to craft armour with blessed blades, quenched in the waters of a sacred spring near Hadrian's Wall.

For the bargain, he prepared to have his favourite hound released as soon as he approached after battle. He cherished the dog after all. It seemed like a more than fair price. Then, clad in blessed armour, he once more rode out to do battle with the beast.

This time every strike of his sword struck true. The wyrm wrapped itself around him many times to try to crush him, but each time it wounded itself further on the blades. Then at long last, the beast fell, cut into pieces.

It was far too big to carry back alone, and he knew he had to keep his word if he was ever to know peace in his own domain. So the lord rode homeward to seek aid in burying the body.

Tragically, his son did not know of the bargain, and beat the hound to its master's side. He lacked the heart to slay his own kin; instead he slew the hound, and so the bargain was broken. The hound was buried with the body of the Wyrm, taking nigh on fifty men due to the Wyrm's tremendous size. So the son lived on, unaware that for his sake the bargain had been broken twice.

Many years later long after the father died the son made a discovery. The bones had changed, they were crystal now. One that was rapidly growing and glowed in stunning colours. Taken in by their beauty he had a piece brought to the surface as a gift for his sweetheart.

Now as anybody could tell you, the Folk will sometimes forgive a slight, even a broken deal, once, and in rare cases even twice. But thrice is different. Breaking a bargain thrice shows you are willing to suffer for your folly.

Deep beneath the earth from the hound and the bones of the wyrm the first Wyrmling was born, from that day on if man was foolhardy enough to ignore a proper price then they would pay it in blood.