The Queen versus Aedra

The Queen versus Aedra

A Poem and a Reply

 

The Queen of Air and Darkness

By Poul Anderson

 

It was the Ranger Arvid,

rode homeward through the hills,

among the shadowy shiver leaves,

along the Chiming Rills.

The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

The night wind whispered round him,

with scent of Brock and Rue.

Both moons rose high above him,                   

and hills aflash with dew.

            The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

And dreaming of that maiden,

who waited in the sun,

he stopped, amazed by starlight,

and so he was undone.

            The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

For there beneath a Barrow,

that bulked athwart a moon,

the Outling Folk were dancing

in glass and golden shoon.

 

The Outling Folk were dancing,

like water, wind and fire.

To frosty-ringing harpsstrings

and never did they tire.

            The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

To Arvid came she striding,

from where she watched the dance,

the Queen of Air and Darkness

with starlight in her glance.

 

With starlight, love and terror

in her immortal eye,

the Queen of Air and Darkness

cried softly under sky.

 

“Light down, you Ranger Arvid,

and join the Outling Folk.

You need no more be human,

which is a heavy yoke.”

            The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

He dared to give her answer,

“I may do naught but run.

A maiden waits me dreaming

in lands beneath the sun.

 

And likewise wait me comrades,

and tasks I would not shirk.

For what is Ranger Arvid,

if he lays down his work?

 

So cast your spells, you Outling,

and wreak your wrath on me.

Though, maybe, you can slay me,

you’ll not make me unfree.”

    The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

The Queen of Air and Darkness,

stood wrapped about with fear.

And north-light flares and beauty,

he dared not look too near.

 

Until she laughed like harpsong,

and said to him in scorn,

“I do not need a magic,

to make you always mourn.

 

I send you home with nothing,

except your memory,

of moonlight, Outling music,

night breezes, dew and me.

 

And that will run behind you,

a shadow on the sun,

and that will lie beside you

when every day is done.

 

In work and play and friendship,

your grief will strike you dumb

for thinking what you are - and

what you might have become.

 

 

Your dull and foolish woman,

treat kindly as you can.

Go home now, Ranger Arvid,

set free to be a man.”

    The Dance weaves under the Fire-thorn

 

 

In flickering and laughter,

the Outling Folk were gone.

He stood, alone, by moonlight

and wept until the dawn.

 

 

          *****

 

That song is part of a Poul Anderson story, where the song is part of another species’ psi-op.

 

Here is my reply poem.

 

 

*****

 

 

No-One Disses Aedra

 

 

It was the maiden Aedra,

rode poleward through the hills,

among the shadowy shiver leaves,

along the chiming rills.

            The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

The night wind whispered round her,

with scent of brock and rue.

Both moons rose high above her,                    

and hills aflash with dew.

            The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

And dreaming of a ranger,

Ensorcelled in the sun,

she stopped, and saw by starlight,

her vengeful quest was done.

 

For there beneath a barrow,

that bulked athwart a moon,

the Outling folk were dancing

in glass and golden shoon.

 

The Outling folk were dancing,

like water, wind and fire.

To frosty-ringing harp strings

and never did they tire.

            The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

To Aedra came she striding,

from where she watched the dance,

the Queen of Air and Darkness

with starlight in her glance.

 

With starlight, love and terror

in her immortal eye,

the Queen of Air and Darkness

cried softly under sky.

 

“Speak up, you maiden Aedra,

I’ll lend to you an ear.

How fares our ranger Arvid?

Does he still hold me dear?”

            The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

Said Aedra with a passion

“He hates you, as do I.

You said you used no magic

But I say that you lie.”

 

“He knows not love, nor friendship;

You’re all that he can see.

I come to break your spell-craft

And set my Arvid free.”

            The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

The Queen of Air and Darkness,

stood wrapped about with fear.

And north-light flares and beauty,

Though Aedra leaned too near.

 

Until she laughed like harpsong,

and said to her in scorn,

“But human, I have magic,

to make you always mourn.”

 

“I fear you not,” said Aedra,

“Your spells are all unreal.

But see! I’m clad in iron

And armed with guns and steel.”

 

“So stand now and deliver!

Thy crown I rob from thee!

You called me dull and foolish

But no-one disses me!”

    The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

It was the maiden Aedra,

rode homeward through the hills,

among the shadowy shiver leaves,

along the chiming rills.

 

“I’m home now, ranger Arvid!

I’ve beat the Outling folk

Let’s shatter her enchantment

Which is a heavy yoke.”

 

 

“I bear her tinsel headgear

Let’s go and crown the cow

Then say, dear ranger Arvid

Who’s dull and foolish now?”

            The dance weaves under the fire-thorn

 

******

 

Hellerstein’s comment:

 

I have reservations about this song, even though I wrote it. Aedra’s a barbarian. She escalates a quarrel starting from a rejected party invitation, to armed robbery. Her motivation is ostensibly romantic (“and set my Arvid free”) but underneath it’s an affair of honor. (“You called me dull and foolish / but no-one disses me!”) Very street of her. But I do admit that, though a barbarian, Aedra’s quite a gal.

 

I worry; did Aedra escalate the Human/Outling conflict? Well, judging by Anderson’s song, there was no love lost there. And I figure that the Queen stepped over the line with ‘your dull and foolish woman / treat kindly as you can.’ This violated the central rule of all politesse; never accidentally insult anyone who matters. I conjecture that Aedra thought, “‘Twixt Arvid and the Queen, that’s their quarrel; but as for me, she needs to learn some respect!” Armed robbery of royal mind-control headgear was plenty gangsta; but crowning the cow was a crowning insult, and sharp tactics too. Any thrall that the Queen sends to Aedra’s farm will moo.

 

In Anderson’s story, a detective figured out that “Queen of Air and Darkness” was actually psi-war propaganda by the planet’s natives; but he later regrets their defeat, for he had Native American ancestry, and he saw that the planet’s natives will be put on a reservation.

 

Shorter “Queen of Air and Darkness” and “No-One Disses Aedra”:

 

Queen: Hey, wanna party? Like, forever?

Arvid: Sorry, I have a life, and a girlfriend.

Queen: Buzz off, loser, I’m too pretty for you. Go abuse your skanky ho!

Aedra: Ex-cuuse me, bitch?! Stick ‘em up!