The Long, Lost Poem - Scroll the Appalling!
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The Long, Lost Poem - Scroll the Appalling!
David Wiles: Steve; I need to here of Scroll the giant. Joy IS in the ears that here after all. If you would dig it out and share it we will listen.
I was going to blow you off (no offense). I'm not particularly interested in the contents of my wastebasket. But then, almost inadvertently, I stumbled on a copy of "Scroll the Appalling". In fact, it has been published: back in June, 1982, in an Australian fanzine called "Wahf-full", issue 9, variously referred to as "Volume 4, No. 1" and "29 vi 82". So here it is, "a song sung by Pitchwife in contemplation of the Soulbiter." I think you'll see why I cut it out of WGW. And even if you don't, I do. Looking back, I'm reassured to see that I made the right decision.
"Scroll the Appalling"
Scroll was calm, though beset as ever.
Mishap found him in all weather,
For which he has been sadly sung.
Vessels sank beneath his feet;
Balmy winds were changed to sleet;
His life grew weeds instead of wheat,
For which he has been sorely sung.
But Scroll was not dismayed by doubt.
His calm was never tossed about.
"This little wind," he said aloud,
When gales every Giant cowed,
"Will pass"--
For which he has been sung.
Once a reef took on his ship
And would not let the dromond slip,
For which he has been faintly sung.
But Scroll was not a whit distressed:
With calm he was extremely blessed.
He ordered every sail dressed,
For which he has been wanly sung.
Top-heavy in an icy blast,
His Giantship capsized at last.
"This reef is beaten now!" he cried.
In such victories he took pride
And sank--
For which he has been sung.
Upon a time he fought a war
With whales beached upon the shore,
For which he has been slightly sung.
His losses there were rather dear:
One ship, two longboats, and a spear.
But Scroll could not be reached by fear,
For which he has been wrily sung.
Dead fishes could not him affright:
He flailed at whales all the night.
And when the tide bore them away,
"How bravely we have won today!"
He said--
For which he has been sung.
Now Scroll would not submit to death,
Though Giants begged for his last breath,
For which he has been darkly sung.
He said that he would walk the world
With all his victories unfurled
'Til Time itself was bent and curled,
For which he has been grimly sung.
So he was locked up in a rock
And sealed tighter than a crock
To stop him. Yet he bravely called,
"I will be calm and free!" Appalled,
They fled--
For which he has been sung.
So there.
(Incidentally, some of the formatting seems to have disappeared. A web site eccentricity. Each line that ends in "sung" should be indented.)
(08/17/2006)
Personally, I like it, but I agree that it's not all that funny, however I can see Pitchwife singing it in an attempt to comfort his fellow Giants.
I was going to blow you off (no offense). I'm not particularly interested in the contents of my wastebasket. But then, almost inadvertently, I stumbled on a copy of "Scroll the Appalling". In fact, it has been published: back in June, 1982, in an Australian fanzine called "Wahf-full", issue 9, variously referred to as "Volume 4, No. 1" and "29 vi 82". So here it is, "a song sung by Pitchwife in contemplation of the Soulbiter." I think you'll see why I cut it out of WGW. And even if you don't, I do. Looking back, I'm reassured to see that I made the right decision.
"Scroll the Appalling"
Scroll was calm, though beset as ever.
Mishap found him in all weather,
For which he has been sadly sung.
Vessels sank beneath his feet;
Balmy winds were changed to sleet;
His life grew weeds instead of wheat,
For which he has been sorely sung.
But Scroll was not dismayed by doubt.
His calm was never tossed about.
"This little wind," he said aloud,
When gales every Giant cowed,
"Will pass"--
For which he has been sung.
Once a reef took on his ship
And would not let the dromond slip,
For which he has been faintly sung.
But Scroll was not a whit distressed:
With calm he was extremely blessed.
He ordered every sail dressed,
For which he has been wanly sung.
Top-heavy in an icy blast,
His Giantship capsized at last.
"This reef is beaten now!" he cried.
In such victories he took pride
And sank--
For which he has been sung.
Upon a time he fought a war
With whales beached upon the shore,
For which he has been slightly sung.
His losses there were rather dear:
One ship, two longboats, and a spear.
But Scroll could not be reached by fear,
For which he has been wrily sung.
Dead fishes could not him affright:
He flailed at whales all the night.
And when the tide bore them away,
"How bravely we have won today!"
He said--
For which he has been sung.
Now Scroll would not submit to death,
Though Giants begged for his last breath,
For which he has been darkly sung.
He said that he would walk the world
With all his victories unfurled
'Til Time itself was bent and curled,
For which he has been grimly sung.
So he was locked up in a rock
And sealed tighter than a crock
To stop him. Yet he bravely called,
"I will be calm and free!" Appalled,
They fled--
For which he has been sung.
So there.
(Incidentally, some of the formatting seems to have disappeared. A web site eccentricity. Each line that ends in "sung" should be indented.)
(08/17/2006)
Personally, I like it, but I agree that it's not all that funny, however I can see Pitchwife singing it in an attempt to comfort his fellow Giants.
- iQuestor
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SRD is certainly more suited to the somber and Dark, but I do like it.
Becoming Elijah has been released from Calderwood Books!
Korik's Fate
It cannot now be set aside, nor passed on...
Korik's Fate
It cannot now be set aside, nor passed on...
Heh, im not a big fan of poetry in general, and frankly, i hated this.
But if you're all about the destination, then take a fucking flight.
We're going nowhere slowly, but we're seeing all the sights.
And we're definitely going to hell, but we'll have all the best stories to tell.
Full of the heavens and time.
We're going nowhere slowly, but we're seeing all the sights.
And we're definitely going to hell, but we'll have all the best stories to tell.
Full of the heavens and time.
- Holsety
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Is the last paragraph hinting that the giants sealed Foul in the Creche? I'd never imagine them having that sort of power....
The only other evil rock type thing is the Illearth Stone, but that's seperate and different from Foul.
EDIT-Let it be known that henceforth the Illearth Stone shall be known as "The Evil Rock Type Thing That isn't Ridjeck Thome, Also Known as Foul's Creche, Which I Speculate Was Created by Giants to Entrap Lord Foul".
The only other evil rock type thing is the Illearth Stone, but that's seperate and different from Foul.
EDIT-Let it be known that henceforth the Illearth Stone shall be known as "The Evil Rock Type Thing That isn't Ridjeck Thome, Also Known as Foul's Creche, Which I Speculate Was Created by Giants to Entrap Lord Foul".
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- Holsety
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Omg! That's amazing. You're amazing! Seriously, I'll never forget such a wonderful conceptual palindrom, though it is unfortunately not a syllabic (is that how I'd say it?) palindrome.Variol Farseer wrote:If it were written on a scroll, it would be a conceptual palindrome . . . .
The Appalling Scroll of Scroll the Appalling!
- drew
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AS stated above...I kind of saw it as a gianish version of Kastenessen's story...about being banished.
-I can see why people didn't like it though, it seems a little corny for SRD's standards
-I can see why people didn't like it though, it seems a little corny for SRD's standards
I thought you were a ripe grape
a cabernet sauvignon
a bottle in the cellar
the kind you keep for a really long time
a cabernet sauvignon
a bottle in the cellar
the kind you keep for a really long time
- Holsety
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But, but...drew wrote:AS stated above...I kind of saw it as a gianish version of Kastenessen's story...about being banished.
-I can see why people didn't like it though, it seems a little corny for SRD's standards
He flailed at whales all the night.
EDIT-If that doesn't evoke some ancient, powerful emotion in all of you, YOUR SOULS ARE DEAD!
- wayfriend
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First of all, it is astounding that Donaldson shared this with us. It's not really like him; I guess the fact that it was published at some point puts it in the same class as Gildenfire in his mind. Three cheers for his sense of fairness.
(I wonder what the circumstances were that led the poem to be published in Australia. Anyone down under ever hear of "Wahf-ful"?)
That being said, the poem is, indeed, subpar, shall we say. In fairness, though, I don't think it's even close to being finished. For instance, it is clear that there should be several more stanzas between the first and the last. After all, a Giantish song would spend a lot more time telling us of Scroll's various deeds.
We should judge it, then, on intention. I think that this -
Scroll is a Giant with a peculiar sense of accomplishment. Life seems intent on handing him lemons, from which he diligently tries to make lemonade; a Giant Job. But his choices are odd, comically pyrrhic. Scroll's definition of success leaves the Giant's agasp, appalled.
And yet he survives, moving from mishap to mishap, leaving one to wonder if he is a unfortunate dimwit or brilliant in ways that we cannot see. There is a lesson here, similar to the lesson of the Waynhim.
The ending of the poem, then, is insufficient and ineffective. SRD must have been trying for something much loftier, I am sure.
(I wonder what the circumstances were that led the poem to be published in Australia. Anyone down under ever hear of "Wahf-ful"?)
That being said, the poem is, indeed, subpar, shall we say. In fairness, though, I don't think it's even close to being finished. For instance, it is clear that there should be several more stanzas between the first and the last. After all, a Giantish song would spend a lot more time telling us of Scroll's various deeds.
We should judge it, then, on intention. I think that this -
- Top-heavy in an icy blast,
His Giantship capsized at last.
"This reef is beaten now!" he cried.
In such victories he took pride
And sank--
Scroll is a Giant with a peculiar sense of accomplishment. Life seems intent on handing him lemons, from which he diligently tries to make lemonade; a Giant Job. But his choices are odd, comically pyrrhic. Scroll's definition of success leaves the Giant's agasp, appalled.
And yet he survives, moving from mishap to mishap, leaving one to wonder if he is a unfortunate dimwit or brilliant in ways that we cannot see. There is a lesson here, similar to the lesson of the Waynhim.
Scroll is fated to a life of "weeds", and "mishap in all weather". The way he chooses to meet his fate is the stuff of Giantish legend. The Donaldson message here is clear: you cannot be beaten as long as you don't give up on yourself.In [u]The Wounded Land[/u] was wrote:It is a contradiction-fate and choice. A man may be fated to die, but no fate can determine whether he will die in courage or cowardice.
The ending of the poem, then, is insufficient and ineffective. SRD must have been trying for something much loftier, I am sure.
.