Dear Arturo,
Despite the costs I accrue in sending these letters, I simply had to share this story. It belongs to the cycle of Marrareth tales and I personally believe it has one of the most satisfying endings in the series.
I discovered it after a long period of combing through regional verses to the song. I came across a verse sung only in Hennavale and the accompanying tale was hard to find. It seems to have arisen early in the tradition but some ancient compiler deliberately omitted it from his anthology and it has been obscure ever since.
Please do tell me if you enjoy the resolution as much as I did. I will send the verse of the song as well. I will try to write again soon with some actual news.
In a lonely land by the Whispering Weir lived Marrareth. She lived in a small dark cottage by a tall dark tower, and up the tower was a bell which she was to ring if ever weald-wights or woodwoses overran the Whispering Weir. She lived there alone, farming the fields and watching the woods and always hoping for a helper to come and lighten her lonely labours.
Marrareth had to keep careful account of her supplies. Only every other month would the city aldermen send messengers to visit the frontier and collect whatever goods the marchmen had to sell. They also took orders for food, tools, and whatever else the marchmen needed and two weeks later they returned to make their deliveries. It happened once that the delivery man was late by a whole week and Marrareth was very hungry.
Yet she continued working the land and tending to her meagre crops. She kept a close watch on the woods and looked out for any signs of trouble as was her duty. Even at night in the light of the waxing moon she kept watch. At times she glanced to the distant south where smoke rose above hamlet chimneys and in her hunger she thought she smelled roasted nuts and boiled meat. She wished more than anything that she could leave her post in the hands of a helper so that she could travel to the hamlet and beg for their scraps.
On the day that the delivery was eight days overdue she awoke to the sound of clattering wheels and trotting hoofs. As she pulled herself out of her cot and rushed to the door she complained,
“Finally! I’ve eaten only crumbs for the past week! What kept you? I’ll be having a word with the aldermen about this! If I had gone another day without proper food I would have slumped over and- ”
Just then she opened her front door. There were two trained deer harnessed to a carriage full of supplies and the carriage driver sat on the seat, slumped over and perfectly dead.
Pitying the poor beasts who had completed the trip on their own, Marrareth shared some quinces and mushrooms with them before driving them off, now unburdened of her order and of the corpse. She dug half a grave before setting out on her morning rounds and in the evening she dug the rest. She wondered if the carriage driver had been attacked or if some illness had seized him. There was no telling.
As she made ready to place him in the grave the full moon rose and its light shined on the corpse’s face and stirred it to speak. Marrareth jumped but the corpse lay limp and unthreatening as it talked.
“You are at the Whispering Weir,” she answered. “Were you attacked?”
“I don’t think so,” it answered. “I can’t remember. But I lost my ghost somewhere along the way. I was not ready to die. My uncle has no heir but me and he wished for me to live long enough to claim his estate. If you bring me to my ghost I will serve you as long as he lives and then give you half of his wealth.”
Marrareth was delighted. “Of course! Early tomorrow we will set out and we will find your ghost before my morning rounds!”
“No,” said the corpse. “For only by the full moon’s light may I speak and once it is passed this body will rot. You must take me tonight.”
She cursed herself for sending away the deer. Loading the corpse onto her back she asked, “Where did you lose your ghost?”
“I will only know it when we are close,” was his answer.
So she set out on the same path the deer had taken. They walked for an hour and they came near a wooded grove. There the corpse called out, “Halt! There is a ghost nearby and it may be mine.”
Marrareth left the path and they went into the wooded grove. Thick webs of bare branches rattled above them and only thin shafts of moonlight reached the ground below. In the middle of the grove was a mound and atop the mound sat a banshee quietly sipping her brew.
“I have nothing to do with you, Marrareth of the Whispering Weir,” said the banshee. “Away with you.”
Marrareth trembled and asked, “Will you not shriek and kill me?”
“There’s none of that to be done tonight,” said the banshee. “My business for the day is done. I have my take for the day and soon I’ll be off to the north to bring it to my kin.”
The banshee then produced a little flame which flickered as though it had a heartbeat and the corpse said, “That is not mine. That is the ghost of an alderman of the southern hamlet and he was a selfish miser. Let the banshee keep it.”
Marrareth then yielded to her fear and fled as fast as she could with the corpse weighing on her back. The delighted banshee’s laughter followed them until they reached the road once more and they continued their journey. After they walked for two hours they came near a graveyard and the corpse called out, “Halt! There is a ghost nearby and it may be mine.”
Marrareth left the path and they went into the graveyard. Mist swarmed around her feet and she found no sure footing. In the middle of the graveyard was tomb and behind the tomb sat a circle of woodsmen whispering eerily.
One of them said, “We have nothing to do with you, Marrareth of the Whispering Weir. Away with you.”
Shaking and shuddering Marrareth asked, “Will you not kill and eat me?”
The woodsman said, “There is enough to eat here already. And we are disturbed enough by the grumblings of one angry spirit without yours to bother us also.”
Marrareth then noticed a flickering little flame buzzing like a fly about the woodsmen’s heads. The corpse said, “That is not mine. That is the ghost of a beggar from the southern hamlet and he was a lazy ingrate. Let the woodsmen keep it.”
Marrareth then yielded to her fear and fled as fast as she could, tripping over rocks and loose sod as she went. She carried on down the road for another three hours before arriving at the southern hamlet. The corpse cried out, “Halt! There is a ghost nearby and it may be mine.”
They entered the hamlet and she crept quietly down the road, avoiding the watchmen’s gaze. In the middle of the hamlet was a square where a criminal sat locked up in stocks.
He said, “I have nothing to do with you, Marrareth of the Whispering Weir. Away with you.”
Looking around nervously Marrareth asked, “Will you not call the guards?”
The criminal said, “I won’t trouble you when I already have blood on my hands. It was an accident out in the fields. Someone loosed my axe head as a trick and now this old man’s ghost will never forgive me.”
He shifted in place and showed Marrareth the flickering flame which burned on his back. Though it gave off no heat it clearly tormented him. The corpse said, “That is not mine. That is the ghost of a trader who visited here and he traded dishonestly. Let the criminal keep it.”
Marrareth carried the corpse outside the hamlet and walked for another half hour. She could not bear the weight much longer and the moon was now far to the west. She had little time left. She stopped along the road and she saw a deer lying in the ditch. A wolf had killed it but not eaten it. The carriage also lay there in the ditch and Marrareth knew it was one of the same deer she had sent away before.
The other of the pair then walked up to her out of the shadows and said, “I am glad to see you again, Marrareth of the Whispering Weir.”
Marrareth gasped and cried out, “You speak now?”
“I do,” it answered. “Thanks to the ghost which came to me. After the wolf attacked this body it lay dead, but when the ghost came I rose again and scared the wolf off.”
Marrareth noticed the flame burning in the deer’s heart and the corpse cried out, “That is it! That is my ghost! Return to me, oh my spirit!”
But the ghost argued back, “I will not! This body is fleet and free and I can run for hours and hours! No longer must I suffer the long long roads to the northern frontier!”
The corpse said, “But if the priests find you like that they will end you!”
“Only if they can catch me!” said the ghost. “And what if I should return to you? You tarried on the road performing evils – cheating the alderman his dues, abusing the poor beggar, and driving the old trader into the fields! It was a fair fate that a snake from the fields followed you into the carriage and bit you. Now I can outrun snake and priest alike! But Marrareth, since you fed me and unburdened me I will free you of your burden as well.”
And as the moon set over the west the deer snatched up the silent corpse and bore it swiftly away to the woods of the north, never to be seen again.
After that long night without sleep Marrareth returned to the Whispering Weir in time for her morning rounds. She wearily went about her day’s work and collapsed back on her cot well before dark. Her final thought before she drifted to sleep was that she would rise early the next morning and write to the city aldermen and ask if they had found anyone to send to help her.
Alas for poor Marrareth. Lonely she tills
The field she was given and guards the north hills.
Alas for poor Marrareth, lone on her land.
Will nobody join her or lend her a hand?
But look! Here’s a corpse and the promise of wealth.
A ransom of riches to reap for yourself!
He makes a fine carcass and that means somewhere
Is some grieving guardian needing an hear!
But if the corpse rises you’ll learn this for certain –
That once the dead die they must bear their own burdens.
Alas for poor Marrareth. Lonely she tills
The field she was given and guards the north hills.
Alas for poor Marrareth, lone on her land.
Will nobody join her or lend her a hand?
geldorad.ca 
Leave a comment