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Old March 11th, 2003, 02:33 AM
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

Krsqk, check your mail.
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Old March 11th, 2003, 02:57 AM
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

Got it, thanks.
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Old March 12th, 2003, 02:00 AM
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

You lucky, lucky people! 2 Chapters in 2 days! Here is chapter 21 for your entertainment. Chapter 22 is nearly ready, I just have to work out some dates and fill in some system names.

Enjoy.

==============================================
Othaglot & Cane: Chapter 21
==============================================
( click here for chapters 1-19. Chapter 20 is available further down this thread. )
==============================================

The Endeavour flew around the Gamallon system for a week, attempting to tidy up the mess caused by the destruction of the Marilyn. First, it returned to the old freighter’s wreck to collect the team left to search through the scattering debris. The hulk, still travelling on its original course and velocity toward the Ceres warp point, rolled idly in space, surrounded by a cloud of broken metal and spinning cargo containers. The engine portion had been utterly obliterated, and only a few twisted shards of hull remained of the massive cargo area. Somehow the bLast had been directed forward in a blade-like shape, splitting the remainder of the ship down the middle along more than half of its length: Only the frontmost third of the structure held the ship’s port and starboard together. An angular incision into one side of what used to be the cargo bay’s front wall showed where the medical bay had been surgically extracted.

By the time we came for them the search team had recovered bodies or body parts to account for everyone aboard at the time of the explosion. No Cue Cappan remains had been found, although they had not been ordered to look for any.

The crewman who had suffered from exposure had died without waking up, five days after the bLast. Of the Marilyn’s crew that left only Captain Frasier and a young woman named Yenn, a maintenance technician. Frasier was making a steady physical recovery. He would eventually require new legs, grown for him from his own DNA, but until he could get back to a planetary hospital he would be adequately mobile on military-issue prosthetics. According to Yenn however, his personality had become somewhat unpredictable, and she said that his appearance had aged 30 years since the bLast. He had already made arrangements with his insurance company to go back to the Marilyn with an assessor and salvage crew.

Mentally, I added forty-three counts of murder to the fugitive’s charge list: Seventeen personnel from the Endeavour and twenty-six from the Marilyn’s complement. Now that she had committed such a devastating crime in Terran space, the humans would want to try her themselves. As well as being pursued by the local police forces, the Terran military would now harbour a grudge against her for the Endeavour’s casualties. There was also the backdrop of military espionage alluded to by Enyemin Cane and the subsequent involvement of the intelligence agencies. Add to that the possible murder of various Vikings, her recent betrayal of the Gla and her list of enemies was growing long. Here in alien territory where no one has even heard of Frontier Order, I began to feel as though a queue was forming in front of me for this woman and in the case of an arrest, my demands for extradition would be pushed to the back of the line.

I voiced these concerns to Commander Lock, and after some consultation with his chain of command it was agreed that the entire incident was to be dealt with through the intelligence agency that was ‘borrowing’ me from Frontier Order. They ordered, via Lock’s superiors, that everything was to be kept as quiet as possible until my work on Plenty was concluded. The local law enforcement and space traffic management authorities were notified of the “accident” according to normal protocols, and the Endeavour’s crew removed and stored all evidence of sabotage was the ultimate conviction of the killer, if she still lived to be tracked down and brought to justice. When the salvagers came for the Marilyn, they would find nothing to contradict the official story of an engine malfunction.

Captain Frasier was outraged, since such a malfunction would affect his not only his reputation but also his insurance claim. Offers of compensation and talk of Federal security did little to lessen his anger, but eventually he accepted that he could do nothing about it, and reluctantly swore himself to secrecy.

Once business had been concluded with the Marilyn, the Endeavour pursued the first escape pod at full speed and found it empty as anticipated. Rather than proceed to New May, Lock decided to return to Plenty. With the death of the Marilyn’s Last casualty there was no longer any pressing need for medical facilities beyond the scope of the Endeavour’s own high-tech medbay, and the new destination was more convenient for everyone. The Endeavour would be able to replace its lost crew members from the military base there, I would be able to continue with my undercover assignment and Cane could return home to do whatever it was he had planned. Frasier was due to transfer to a salvage ship a week or so into Ceres, heading back to the wreck we had just left. Yenn insisted on going with him.

All this time, I found myself more and more alone. Cane avoided me religiously, hiding himself away with Loorl for days at a time. I used the time to research the viking cult, taking full advantage of the ship’s extensive information systems. Reluctantly, I reminded myself that the capture of the murderess was out of my jurisdiction and no longer any of my concern. I had to focus on the daunting task of infiltration ahead of me. I found I could learn far more easily without Loorl’s ‘tuition’, and by the time we reached the warp station I had absorbed the history of the ancient and modern cults, and most of the terminology and traditions I would have to emulate in my undercover role. All that remained was to learn the extensive mythology central to the story-telling rituals.

The ship picked up a dozen or so people at the warp station, dropping them at the sibling station on the other side to continue their journey. Now within the Ceres system, my goal was within sight. Plenty was a bright blue point at this distance, and with every passing day it grew brighter and rounder.

Eight days into Ceres, Captain Frasier and Yenn were due to take a shuttle to meet up with the salvage ship, and so a formal dinner was arranged to mark their departure. Lock and his officers were dressed in their finest red uniforms, and Loorl soon arrived in what he often described as his ‘best helmet’, although I knew him to possess only one. I was surprised when Cane entered the room and took the place laid for him. He was wearing a new suit, and only after some time did I realise what was strange about it. When he had explained in the Marilyn’s medbay that the skinsheet was his own, I had assumed he would have the Endeavour’s medical personnel graft it onto him to remove the scars from the mining colony. Instead he seemed to have opted to keep the scars and wear the skin as a suit, although who he had found on board with the necessary tailoring skills I could not imagine.

There was something strange going on between Cane and Loorl, and I took a look into Cane’s mind to find out exactly what it was. I was stunned at how suddenly I learned what it was.

All Cappans, as part of their education, are taught certain mental disciplines. These exercises structure their minds in a particular way, making them better hosts for Cue and allowing not only the cappans themselves but also joined individuals to more easily find information within that mind. A by-product of this education is that Cappans usually become sufficiently aware of their own mental processes that they can restrict access to probing psychics if they choose. General mind states and emotions will still be unblocked without further training, but specific information can be shielded. It is normal practise in my culture for both joined and unjoined to keep sensitive things hidden away in private, but allow access to the larger part of one’s knowledge to anyone who may need it.

The moment I tried to read Cane, it became instantly clear what he and Loorl had been doing in secret for the Last two weeks. Cane’s mind was completely surrounded by a barrier. His utter refusal to allow any kind of access to his mental space would be considered highly rude in Cue Cappan culture, and I flinched at the shock of it. Cane noticed my movement and smiled, turning to face me.
“I’ve learned some valuable lessons lately, Othaglot.” He said. “I hope you’ll excuse my distancing myself from you lately, but I felt I was at a disadvantage and I didn’t want to talk to you until I could do so on equal terms.”
I could still read his general mood, and he seemed more calm and balanced now than he had been since I first met him. This led me to hope that the mental self-examination required to attain this new skill had at least been therapeutic for him.

The meal began. I felt extremely uncomfortable, although Cane seemed entirely at ease. Loorl exhibited no small amount of glee at my discomfort. As usual, Loorl and I were served a large pile of unheated seafood, on this occasion it was something called salmon accompanied by crabsticks. The humans, as usual, had a wide variety of heated animals and vegetables to choose from. They also served wine, which I had not seen before. From Loorl’s reaction, I guessed it to be an intoxicant and I decided to accept a small amount for myself. I would doubtless need to drink the stuff in order to fit in with the vikings on Plenty. I drank very cautiously, and I had to admit that I found it acceptable, although it had a strange warming effect on my digestive system.

Twenty minutes into the meal, we were all listening to Captain Frasier recount some anecdote about his extensive travels when Loorl interrupted rudely.
Why aren’t you eating?”
The question was directed at Cane, who had accepted no food or wine, taking only water.
Cane flushed and stammered, and I understood the dilemma he was faced with. Would it be less polite in the eyes of these etiquette-conscious Earthers to acknowledge the interruption and reply to Loorl or to disrespectfully ignore him for Frasier’s sake? Whichever he did would probably have been wrong, but Frasier mercifully baled him out, making allowances for Loorl even though I sometimes thought he had a better grip on the Earther mentality than either myself or Cane.
“I imagine he’s fasting.” Said Frasier, and Cane nodded.
Loorl looked shocked, and Cane laughed. “Don’t worry, as an outsider you won’t be expected to participate.”
“Why would anyone deliberately deny themselves food?” Asked Loorl.
“It’s a tradition on Plenty.” Cane replied. “In the week before the summer festival we take in nothing but water, in memory of what happened during the Oxy War.”
There was an uneasy silence, and Frasier broke it. ”Since Mr Othaglot and Mr Loorl will soon be visiting Plenty for the first time, perhaps a little history would be a good thing. I’ll be happy to tell the story if it’s difficult for you Mr. Cane, but I’m sure it would be more accurate coming from a native of the planet.”
Cane nodded quietly, and fell silent for a few moments, his headed dropped. After a few moments he looked up. His face was wet.
“Excuse my emotion. This story always touches me, ever since I heard my Grandfather tell it for the first time. He would always cry when he told it, but he would never start the story without finishing. I’ll try to tell it as faithfully as he did.”
He paused again and began. Story telling for anything other than practical purposes is a rare thing among my people: We prefer to describe things as they are rather than how they came to be. My study of humans, however, leads me to believe it is something of an art form among them. The Viking cult, certainly, revel in it. It seems to be an instinctive part of their nature, the result – or maybe the cause – of their linear minds. From the responses of the others around the table, I could tell that Cane was a good story-teller. For my own part, I listened with interest, but all the time I was self-consciously aware that this was something the wiring of my mind would never allow me to fully appreciate.

[ March 11, 2003, 14:00: Message edited by: dogscoff ]
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Old March 12th, 2003, 02:33 AM
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

dogscoff,
Quote:
Originally posted by dogscoff:
You lucky, lucky people! 2 Chapters in 2 days!
Why, yes we are. I like it, very much!

mlmbd
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Old March 11th, 2003, 06:18 PM

Baron Munchausen Baron Munchausen is offline
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

An interesting problem of SciFi is whether 'non-psychic' races have any ability to control access to their thoughts or if being 'psychic' is something completely outside normal mental abilities and 'non-psychics' are completely helpless in the 'psychic' realm. Different authors decide on different solutions. I see you have decided that normal minds can discipline themselves somehow or other and achieve some power to control access to their thoughts. If this is so, can they also learn to 'reach out' to other minds?

You see the paradox I am leading up to? If 'normal' minds can resist being read then they have the ability to control those same 'thought emanations' that psychics use for distance communication. So why would there be any genetic barriers to being completely psychic? Wouldn't training up to 'full abilities' necessarily be possible?
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Old March 11th, 2003, 06:49 PM
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

Quote:
An interesting problem of SciFi is whether 'non-psychic' races have any ability to control access to their thoughts or if being 'psychic' is something completely outside normal mental abilities and 'non-psychics' are completely helpless in the 'psychic' realm. Different authors decide on different solutions. I see you have decided that normal minds can discipline themselves somehow or other and achieve some power to control access to their thoughts. If this is so, can they also learn to 'reach out' to other minds?

You see the paradox I am leading up to? If 'normal' minds can resist being read then they have the ability to control those same 'thought emanations' that psychics use for distance communication. So why would there be any genetic barriers to being completely psychic? Wouldn't training up to 'full abilities' necessarily be possible?
It's an interesting point. I have been planning to to close Cane off for a while now, mainly for the purposes of plot and character development. I figured that if the unjoined Cappans can do it, then so can humans.

To be honest the whole thing is a bit of a sci-fi cop out anyway as far as I'm concerned, since (a) the idea of all these races being so compatible/ similar is pretty absurd anyway and (b) I don't usually like psychic stuff in sci-fi. I think the suspension of disbelief necessary to believe in psychic powers in a technological setting is pushing the envelope a little too far. Of course hat begs the question "why use a psychic race in O&C then", but the simple answer is that when i wrote the first chapter of this story and included a Cue Cappan I had no idea that there would be a chapter 2.

But I digress... yeah. If there is such a thing as psychic powers/ telepathy (I'm doubtful), then I think the physics of it would be a far more complex and acute mechanism than just picking up the very faint and vague waves radiating from the brain.

If you believe that the mind is greater than (and even capable of existing outside of) the brain it resides in, then that would open up all kinds of possibilities for telepathy, remote viewing and all that mumbo jumbo.

Of course, we're edging into the spiritual realm here, but that's a whole other argument. Personally I don't necessarily think that you have to believe in any kind of supernatural stuff/ God/ spirit world to accept the possibility of the mind being beyond "ordinary" physics.

Man, if Fyron reads this thread he's gonna toast me for that Last remark=-)

To sum all that up, For the purposes of the scoffoverse we'll just say that psychic races are psychic, and the best anyone else can do is to learn to block them. I could try to explain it all with technobabble, but let's just not and pretend I did=-)

[ March 11, 2003, 16:52: Message edited by: dogscoff ]
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Old May 31st, 2003, 01:44 AM
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Default Re: Othaglot and Cane - Story Thread

Here's Chapter 22. Not sure when you can expect to see chapter 23, but you've all been waiting for this for too long.

Earlier chapters are available on this thread and on my website, although i know that the website is missing some of the more recent chapters.

I'm finding this story harder and harder to tell lately, and I'm really starting to feel that it's drifting off in the wrong direction. I'd really appreciate any feedback on this. Does anyone think there's too much emphasis on the emotional side of things lately? is it getting bogged down? Is it clear what's happening to the two main characters in terms of their development since their reunion? I find it really hard to look at it objectively, I'd really appreciate some help.

Anyway, here it is, Chapter 22.
*****************************************

Cane began his tale.
“The Oxy wars took place about fifty years ago- I’m afraid I can’t translate that into the Earth or Cue Cappan Calendar.”
“Fifty-nine years on Earth, about forty Cue Cappan.” Chipped in the Navigational Officer, who had a huge store of such facts and figures available for instant retrieval.
“Thank you.” Continued Cane, now addressing myself and Loorl. “This is all long before we made contact with your Commonwealth, so I should explain a little of the background history. Ceres IV was colonised just under eighty years ago - Plenty years - at the end of the first great human expansion. It has a favourable climate, huge surface area and rich natural resources, so it was quite a prize. To this day it is the wealthiest, most heavily populated planet of any nation in the known galaxy, if you discount homeworlds.”
Everyone nodded sagely, including Loorl who had adopted the habit of bobbing his eye stalks to indicate a nod.
“With the scarcity of uninhabited nitrogen/ oxygen-atmosphere planets in the galaxy and the proliferation of oxygen breathing species looking for worlds to colonise, a planet like that was bound to cause aggravation for whoever got there first. We did, and none of the other oxygen races were happy about it. Most notably, the Sergetti claimed to have had a coloniser fleet on the way which mysteriously disappeared just before arrival.”
Several of the crew grumbled sourly at this point, and Cane chuckled at their response. He explained for the benefit of the non-humans.
“Even though the war ended half a century ago, anti-Sergetti sentiments are still strong on Earth.”
I sympathised, but did not mention the uneasy relations between the Sergetti and my own people.
“Ironically,” added Cane, “those feelings are now almost non-existent on Plenty, where we have the best reason to hate them.” The audience fell silent again, allowing Cane to continue.
“The Sallega also claimed to have rights to this system, since it is close to their space, and there were at least two other oxygen breathing species who wanted it. Now this was shortly after Earth’s first contact with these races- who were among the first non-humans we had ever met- and interstellar relations were shaky to say the least. The framework we have now for interspecies trade and politics was not in place, and in a way, this lack of understanding was one of things that delayed the inevitable war. We all knew very little about one other and no one wanted to risk conflict with an unknown opponent. As understanding and political co-operation grew, however, so did jealousy and discontentment. Twenty-five years later, when Earth colonised some oxygen moon in the Quikil system, the Segetti declared it the latest act in a greedy monopolisation of the galaxy, which had started with the unlawful colonisation of Ceres IV. A coalition of the Sergetti, Sallega, Praetorian and Piundon declared war on Earth. It was fairly evenly matched. Due our extensive colonisation, we Terrans were by far the largest power in the known galaxy, and with support from the methane-breathing Druckshoka we were able to hold them off.

Plenty, as we had optimistically named Ceres IV, had grown impressively in the three decades it had been colonised. Although its industrial and economic contribution was limited in comparison to the homeworld’s output, it was strategically important and so was equipped with impressive defensive installations and considered itself ready for any attack. However, no enemy fleet came. The Sergetti had a far more sinister offensive planned, concentrating their firepower instead on the eastern end of the Terran territories.

The Sergetti captured a human officer and then allowed her to escape in the southern portion of their empire. She stole a ship – as they had intended her to do – and made her way to the nearest human outpost, which at that time was Plenty. Unfortunately, they had introduced into her gut a specially engineered breed of Sergetti knife-worm, suspended in tiny capsules. Within hours of the escapee’s triumphant arrival, the capsules made their way into the environment and dissolved as they were designed to. The knife-worms were released and began to multiply.

Plenty has no native animal life, but it has evolved its own plants, which happen to be toxic to just about everything. Therefore humans had to either ship in all their food or set up the ecosystem necessary to grow it there. Setting up a full ecosystem takes decades, even over a small area like the islands which hold Plenty’s human population. Hydroponics and dome farms and so on are all very well, but on a fertile planet like Plenty it is far more economical and reliable in the long run to have old fashioned farms growing meat and vegetables in the context of a fully self-sustaining ecosystem.

First, then, they introduced bacteria, grasses, mosses, plankton and seaweeds from Earth which competed extremely well with the less-evolved native flora. After just five years or so, the terraformers were confident enough to introduce herbivorous insects, small plant-eating mammals and fish, and a variety of more complex plants. The animal life flourished, and soon minor predators had to be introduced to keep their numbers in check, with larger herbivores and other creatures imported and released later at the appropriate stages. Balancing all of the different parts of the complex food web, from tiny bacteria all the way up to humans, is crucially important and extremely difficult, and it is now understood that the original plan for Plenty’s ecosystem was far too ambitious- They introduced too much too soon. In thirty years they had almost a complete ecosystem installed around the inhabited islands, but and it was unstable. Every year one link or another in the food chain would be verging on extinction or explosion.

The Sergetti knew all this and their voracious knife-worms tipped the balance. They damaged everything they encountered on land or sea, multiplying more rapidly than anything could kill them and feeding at an unsustainable rate. They ate the introduced plankton and plant life, but they would also infest the digestive system of animals, including humans, knotting together to cause painful and damaging blockages. With the basic plant life under attack, the ecosystem was doomed. Once they had eaten every shred of introduced chlorophyll on the entire planet the knife-worms starved to extinction, but the damage was done. Plenty had only a month’s worth of food stored up. The Sergetti moved to block relief ships from Earth, forcing us to divert fleets away from the eastern front in an attempt to get supplies through.

With all the introduced plant life gone, people ate the starving cattle and other herbivores, and then when the herbivores were gone they ate the starving carnivores and then the starving scavengers. Then everything was gone. A few pockets of introduced life remained in unreachable parts of the ocean but effectively, there were now just the humans, the inedible native plants, dirt-and dung eating bugs and the flies which fed off the dead humans. In the end the people of Plenty were reduced to eating worms, maggots, fabrics and even – allegedly – one another.

It was horrific. Four million people – a third of the planet’s population - were dead within five months of the first knife-worm. At was at this point that a Terran and Drukshocka joint offensive seized a number of key Sergetti planets and forced the coalition to make peace. The Sergetti themselves flew in the first relief packages to Plenty, and were allowed to establish a community in the planet’s vast ocean as part of the peace treaty’s terms. Disease and malnutrition affected every single survivor to some extent, and more than a half of them were destined to die less than two months after the aid finally came.”

Everyone had stopped eating.

“My grandfather lived through it all.” said Cane, solemnly. “So did my father, but he was just a baby. My Grandmother and her three other children all died in the famine. All of my mother’s family was wiped out except for her and my uncle. My Grandfather died ten years ago on Festival’s Eve, at just eighty-eight years old. He was one of one of the Last of Plenty’s first-generation colonists, and until the day he died his cupBoards were always stocked with a half-year’s worth of food.”

Loorl looked guiltily at his plate. I noticed with some alarm that I had already emptied my wine glass. It didn’t seem to have affected me so I accepted some more.
“That is why we fast.” Concluded Cane.

The meal had a rather more solemn tone after that, although it did recover a certain amount of joviality toward the end. For once I was actually enjoying myself, my frustrations at being restricted to just conversation and eating forgotten for the time being. I was pleased that Cane seemed to be prepared to converse with me once more, although he was understandably quiet for the rest of the meal. He left the table quite soon after finishing his story, leaving me with Loorl, who for some reason seemed more tolerable than usual. I retired that night more satisfied than I had been in months, and awoke the next morning with a persistent, thumping ache in my brains.

Loorl came to find me in the morning, making loud and irritating jokes about hangovers, whatever they are. I was feeling far too uncomfortable to take much notice. He told me that Cane had persuaded him to resume my instruction in viking lore, and that he would try to be more tolerant of my intolerance. Under ordinary circumstances I would have thrown him out and told him exactly where he could tolerate his instructions, but I took the quieter option and accepted his peace gesture.

We began immediately. Loorl started in his usual style, speaking authoritatively on a subject I had already researched for myself. Within ten minutes, as usual, he had meandered away from the topic in hand to tell a tale about the time he and his friends had been drinking with the murdered human. Rather than provoke another argument, I simply allowed him to talk, listening absently to his words, and discovering that my brain-ache made it very uncomfortable to read his mind. It soon became clear that he was inventing much of this re-telling - his official accounts of his night in the container had been very complete and not consistent with what he was saying now- and I was about to dispute this fact with him when suddenly it all clicked into place. I knew he was making it all up, and he knew that I knew, but it didn’t matter. That’s what he had been trying to teach me all along. He had altered the events of the night to include a lengthy retelling of one of the old myths and I felt a pang of recognition. The myth he had woven into the story concerned the thunder god Thor. Thor’s hammer had been stolen by a giant named Thrym, and in exchange for its return the thief demanded Freya, a much desired Goddess, as his wife. Freya was unwilling to participate, so Thor himself disguised himself as a bride to retrieve his property.
I suddenly realised that the story was about me: He was drawing a parallel with my undercover mission to infiltrate the Viking clan in the guise of the murderess. From the emphasis of certain parts of the tale I also guessed that Loorl cast himself as Loki, the quick-witted half-god, half-giant trickster who accompanies Thor and explains away Thrym’s suspicions.

This story-telling that I had dismissed as childish foolery had taken on a new depth, and I listened carefully to the rest of his tale. I was at once gratified and dismayed by the ending in which Thor successfully accomplishes his mission, but then having retrieved his hammer bludgeons Thrym and his family to death with it. By the end of the story I had much to think about. His story concluded, Loorl left to find some of his new human friends. He was genuinely surprised as he exited when I thanked him for the lesson.

Alone again and lost in my thoughts, for the first time in a long time I took time to stare out at the stars. This time, the sense of peace and comfort I normally find in the void escaped me, and I felt something I do not ever remember feeling before- loneliness.

*********************

Addendum- the norse tale Loorl told is known as Thrym's Lay. If you want to read it for yourself, there are a million Versions of it available Online.Click here for one of them.
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