culture On Reinmaren Runekeeping

[DogWithABanana 100]

 

On Reinmaren Runekeeping

by Estmund von Ehrenwald
 

 

To Rosalyn,
My Rose.

 

“I make this Schwur. That I plan to have not only my creations last longer than us, but our lessons and traditions of the trade persist as well. Including the art of runecarving.”
~ Tribesman Estmund von Ehrenwald at the Reinmaren Moot of Saint's Week 1988

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

Recollection
A diegesis of a memory, separate from the book.
 

A depiction of an earlier erected runestone, inspiration for Estmund's start in Runekeeping.

 

It was light after dawn, the sky a dull blue as cold air hovered high with the pines and scented low with the dewy grass, wooden wheels ground against dirt and stone as it creaked its way through the trees. There was a storm in the distance, serene rumblings of thunder rolled over. Estmund preferred to walk in the mornings, flanking a cart carrying a heavy load of stones. 

"Here," He calls to the driver and points, "Have the cart by the stone." They had just arrived to one of the many runestones Estmund had traced along in a route. A planned pilgrimage of sorts of structures venerating tales of yore.

The structure stood before them tall and vigil, testament to ancient story tellers' works. For when our voices fail, let the earth speak for us. Estmund thought to himself, resting a hand upon its cool, mossy surface. His thumbs brush gently against its carved writings to clear its font for legibility. This stone spoke of an ancient marriage between a warrior, Wulfnoð, and his wife, Bealdhild, for whom he battled seven men who had wronged her honour. Estmund produces a small book and quill, transcribing the stone by eye. Its runes running along its shape and size.

A depiction of Wulfnoð fearlessly confronting an adversary in front of his entourage.

"ᛞᚨᚢᚷᚺᛏᛖᚱ ᛏᛟ ᚨ ᚹᚨᚱᚱᛟᚱ-ᚲᚺᛁᛖᚠᛏᚨᛁᚾ, ᛊᚺᛖ ᚹᚨᛊ ᛞᛖᛊᛁᚱᛖᛞ ᛒᛁ ᛖᛁᚷᚺᛏ ᛗᛖᚾ ᛟᚠ ᛞᛁᚠᚠᛖᚱᛖᚾᛏ ᛏᚱᛁᛒᛖᛊ. ᚨᛚᛚ ᚹᛖᚱᛖ ᚺᚨᛚᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛟᚠ ᛊᛏᚱᛖᛜᚦ, ᚲᛟᚢᛚᛞ ᚠᚨᛊᛏ-ᚱᛁᛞᛖ ᚺᛟᚱᛊᛖᛊ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᚱᚨᛁᛊᛖ ᛊᚺᛁᛖᛚᛞ ᚹᚨᛚᛚᛊ. ᛒᛖᛚᛞᚺᛁᛚᛞ ᚹᚨᛊ ᛒᛖᚢᛏᛁᚠᚢᛚ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚹᛁᛊᛖ ᛒᛖᛁᛟᚾᛞ ᚺᛖᚱ ᛁᛖᚱᛊ, ᚨᛒᛟᚢᚾᛞ ᚹᛁᚦ ᚲᚺᛟᛁᚲᛖ, ᛊᚺᛖ ᛊᛟᚢᚷᚺᛏ ᚦᛖ ᛒᛖᛊᛏ ᚷᚱᛟᛟᛗ ᚨᛗᛟᛜᛊᛏ ᚦᛖᛗ. ᛊᚺᛖ ᚠᛟᚢᚾᛞ ᚹᚢᛚᚠᚾᛟᚦ ᛊᛏᚱᛟᛜ ᛁᚾ ᛒᛟᛞᛁ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚺᛖᚱᛏ, ᚺᛁᛊ ᚹᚨᚱᛗᚦ ᛏᛟᚹᚨᚱᛞᛊ ᚺᛖᚱ ᚨᚲᛁᚾ ᛏᛟ ᚨ ᚺᛖᚱᚦ ᚨᛏ ᚹᛁᚾᛏᛖᚱ. ᛊᚲᛟᚱᚾᛖᛞ ᛒᛁ ᚺᛖᚱ ᚲᚺᛟᛁᚲᛖ, ᚦᛖ ᛟᚦᛖᚱ ᛊᛖᚢᛖᚾ ᛗᛖᚾ ᛏᚢᚱᚾᛖᛞ ᚦᛖᛁᚱ ᛒᚨᚲᚲᛊ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚲᚱᛖᛖᛞᛖᛞ ᛏᛟᚷᛖᚦᛖᚱ, ᛊᛈᛁᛏᛁᛜ ᛒᛖᛚᛞᚺᛁᛚᛞ ᚹᛁᚦ ᚱᚢᛗᛟᚱᛊ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛚᛁᛖᛊ. ᛖᚾᚱᚨᚷᛖᛞ ᛚᛁᚲᛖ ᚨ ᚱᛟᚨᚱᛁᛜ ᚠᛁᚱᛖ, ᚹᚢᛚᚠᚾᛟᚦ ᛊᛟᚢᚷᚺᛏ ᛖᚲᚺ ᛗᚨᚾ ᛟᚾᛖ ᛒᛁ ᛟᚾᛖ, ᛒᛖᛊᛏᛁᛜ ᚦᛖᛗ ᛖᚲᚺ ᛁᚾ ᚨᚾ ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱ-ᛞᚢᛖᛚ, ᛖᚲᛊᛏᚱᚨᚲᛏᛁᛜ ᛈᚱᛁᚲᛖᛊ ᚠᚱᛟᛗ ᛖᚲᚺ ᛟᚾᛖ. ᚢᚾᛏᛁᛚ ᚦᛖ ᛊᛖᚢᛖᚾᚦ ᛗᚨᚾ, ᚹᚺᛟᛗ ᚺᚨᛞ ᚠᚨᛏᚨᛚᛚᛁ ᚹᛟᚢᚾᛞᛖᛞ ᚹᚢᛚᚠᚾᛟᚦ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚹᚨᛊ ᚲᛁᛚᛚᛖᛞ ᛁᚾ ᚱᛖᛏᚢᚱᚾ. ᚹᚢᛚᚠᚾᛟᚦ ᚱᛖᛏᚢᚱᚾᛖᛞ ᚺᛟᛗᛖ ᛏᛟ ᛒᛖᛚᛞᚺᛁᛚᛞ, ᚺᛖᚱ ᛞᛁᚷᚾᛁᛏᛁ ᚱᛖᛊᛏᛟᚱᛖᛞ. ᚺᛖ ᛈᚨᛊᛊᛖᛞ ᛟᚾ ᚺᛁᛊ ᛊᛈᛖᚱ ᛏᛟ ᚺᛖᚱ, ᛒᛖᚠᛟᚱᛖ ᚺᛁᛊ ᛊᛈᛁᚱᛁᛏ ᛈᚨᛊᛊᛖᛞ ᛟᚾ ᚨᛊ ᚹᛖᛚᛚ. ᛒᛖᛚᛞᚺᛁᛚᛞ ᚺᚨᛞ ᚱᚨᛁᛊᛖᛞ ᚦᛁᛊ ᚱᚢᚾᛖᛊᛏᛟᚾᛖ ᛏᛟ ᛈᚱᚨᛁᛊᛖ ᚺᛖᚱ ᛚᚨᛏᛖ ᚺᚢᛊᛒᚨᚾᛞ×ᛊ ᚨᛈᛈᛖᛊᛖᛗᛖᚾᛏ ᛏᛟ ᛞᚢᛏᛁ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱ.  ᛏᚺᚨᛏ ᚺᛖ ᛒᛖ ᚱᛖᛗᛖᛗᛒᛖᚱᛖᛞ, ᚨᚾᛞ ᚦᛟᛊᛖ ᛞᛁᛊᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱᚨᛒᛚᛖ ᛗᚨᛁ ᚾᛟᛏ."

To which he then translates:
"Daughter to a Warrior-Chieftain, she was desired by eight men of different tribes. All were hale and of strength, could fast-ride horses, and raise shield walls.
Bealdhild was beautiful and wise beyond her years, abound with choice, she sought the best groom amongst them.
She found Wulfnoð strong in body and heart, his warmth towards her akin to a hearth at winter.
Scorned by her choice, the other seven men turned their backs and creeded together, spiting Bealdhild with rumors and lies.
Enraged like a roaring fire, Wulfnoð sought each man one by one, besting them each in an honor-duel, extracting prices from each one.
Until the seventh man, whom had fatally wounded Wulfnoð and was killed in return.
Wulfnoð returned home to Bealdhild, her dignity restored. He passed on his spear to her, before his spirit passed on as well.
Bealdhild had raised this runestone to praise her late husband's appeasement to duty and honor.
That he be remembered, and those dishonorable may not."

"Is it a good one this time, Meister?" The young son of the driver approaches. Estmund turns his head from his book and smiles, "Yes, we'll be staying the night for this one. Let's set up."

In the ambience of history, Estmund laid camp through the day into the dark night, writing throughout the night by lantern and campfire light, in both common and modern Reinmaren runes. He breathed it all in, he could feel and imagine the spirits of those who had walked the path he sat upon before. As if he could only raise his head to see the men who raised this stone by rope and muscle, and that he could even see Bealdhild standing spectacle to this. All of this in the dark, before his imagination fades and he returns to writing.

"Will you be able to read it to us tonight, Meister?" The young boy sat by the fire next to Estmund, hugging his knees to himself with dirtied hands. He had assisted them throughout the day in loading practice stones for Estmund to recreate the carving techniques he observes and theorizes.

Estmund didn't spare to lift his tired eyes from his pages. He sips from a wineskin and shakes his head, "I'm sorry, child. It's a large one this time. Perhaps in the morning."

"Isn't this our last one?" The boy asked, Estmund nodded in reply and silence between them returned alongside the quiet crackle of fire. "Why?" 

Estmund would break the silence, "Prefer there to be more?" He asked. 

The boy replied, "It's hard work, sir. But I always look forward to your stories." 

Estmund shook his head again, "These aren't my stories, remember that young one." – "They're stories I have the honor of keeping remembered by the world. These stones last generations and may outlast you. It's their stories."

"But why upon stone? Why not paper?" The boy asked. Estmund replied, "Because it's tradition, we Reinmaren must uphold tradition, it is our culture. It is who we are. What was wanted of us by our ancestors, whom we must venerate at any opportunity." The boy enraptured, gave a wide gawp of a smile before uttering, "What?"

Estmund realized he was in a moment of passion, his hands found raised during his speech. He lowers them before clearing his throat,

"Can you read, boy?" Estmund asked. The boy shook his head. "Would you like to be taught how to read?" Estmund asked. The boy nodded.

Estmund leaned forth, "Well, I can teach you then." He said, then raising a finger. "But only on one condition. Perhaps you try your hand in what I'm doing too. And perhaps you can retell stories on your own, and then someday make your own." He then smiled, "Doesn't that sound like a plan?"

 

Learnings

An excerpt from "On Reinmaren Runekeeping", by Estmund von Ehrenwald.
 

 

INTRODUCTION
On this day of Sigismund's End of the Year of our Lord 1990,

I've returned to home, warmth, and family from a long journey of a series of journeys. Pilgrimages of the land to learn about the tradition of Reinmaren and Waldenian methods of teaching and storytelling. Most held sacred was the art of Runekeeping. Raising large structures of stone in varying shapes and sizes, all meant as an expression from the earth and cemented by effort of mortals to tell a time everlasting story. 

Each runestone I had visited and found in my travels were carved by heart and soul, each ridge and cut, designs and art preserved upon the faces of the stone, embedded with spiritual fervor that you could imbibe out of the air. These studies have taken years of my life, and I sometimes feel I haven't even scratched the surface of anything in this field of knowledge. I fear that it either may be lost to time, or there are limits to pages and knowledge that cannot be put to words. But we can simply say this:

There need be nothing more for the raising of runestones besides heart, strength, and stone. The writing of runes is just another voice of an array our great Lord has given us as choices. We must preserve these choices for long our generations to come, as these are roots to what and whom we truly are. Living continuations of our ancestors and tribes that live on through all of us. Long as we keep this in mind and sacred.

HOW IT IS DONE

Part of who we are is our designs, aesthetics, cultures, and traditions. Language, especially, and though not all of us may be as attuned to ancient lexicons as others may be, I encourage its learning as my appreciation of it has raised to astronomical heights. To think our modern language has come from this, "ᚱᛖᛁᚾᛘᚪᚱᛖᚾ ᚪᚾᛞ ᚹᚪᛚᛞᛖᚾᛡᚾ ᛚᚪᛝᚢᚪᚷᛖ". One can see the resemblance with enough comparison by eye.
 

Runestones may be raised and piled by hand, whilst others may work in groups and raise tall spires by rope and pulley of branches. Either are fully acceptable by the earth and spirits. Efforts and heart behind the contents of what is carved into the stone is what truly matters, in my humble opinion. What good is a story if it is half-told? What good is knowledge if it is half-thought? One must also not think too hard on the matter and merely tell a story in the end, the method to this is honesty overall. A lie carved on stone remains a lie and must be treated like poison. For poison can very much poison minds and hearts as it does bodies.

Next, the carvings' writings must be written in the third person. The stones reflect our words and retell it for the ages, we must never use or write runestones to elevate our own stories and selves for selfish gain. Accomplishments that uphold values in groups or individuals as epitomes of ideals may be venerated, and that is of different thought than selfishness. Glory of the one is not glory for the whole. But glory for the whole can be glory for one. 

These carvings may be anywhere upon the stone but depending on shape and size of the structure it is mostly upon wider faces of the rock and stone; some stories extend to or down the sides. Others wrap all the way around. Some structures have words that are tiny enough to cover the structure from its very top to its bottom, that no inch be left empty and uncarved.

Several runestones may be placed in close proximity to each other in a designated area. Or they may be isolated in a patch of forest rarely visited. What's important is the meaning of such area to be placed in. Practicality may also have a factor in its chosen area of raising. Be it in a village for all to see, or a site near and dear to those who know its story. Any and all may raise their runestones and must be encouraged as long as it is in good spirit.

Lastly, designs of runestones are more vital parts of the runestones that others think not much of. These designs are remnants of who we are not just as warriors but as artisans, shqiptar, and storytellers. There may be geometrical designs, like squares and zags, or rounds like spirals and circles. There could be depictions of flowers, or trees, even animals or people, weapons, and ships. These images may even accompany the written story as a whole in a complementary sense. A heart desiring to express a story may have no problem with intuiting these designs to add to the runestone.

 

A depiction of a site with many runestones, a runekeeper retelling a story of a Chieftain's ancestor.

 

CONCLUSION

Runestones are venerations of those past and present yet never the future. Stones that retell stories of us even past when we are all long gone. A method of immortality that our God has blessed us with. So that those that remain will remember us so, remember what truly matters. The lessons and values that we as Reinmaren must uphold to remain who we are as a proud people. 

This sense of pride and identity is what binds our society together, through strife and tribulations no man lives without his tribe. It has been that tribes after battles and victories would record the history by raising these runestones together in a communal fashion, breeding the sense of tribesmanship we carry today. Its importance will never change, even despite its lessening of practice over the generations. 

The ideal and practice of Runekeeping remains strong in Reinmar, and that is a testament to who we are in our reverence of tradition and diligence in its preservation. That those who learn of our stories and respect it may come to befriend our tribes, perhaps even join it. And those who do not, oust themselves as incapable of compatibility.

Runekeeping is part of the Reinmaren way of life. No person may subvert it, even with the highest effort.

 

 

 

 

---

WER RASTET, DER ROSTET

Authored and Published by
Estmund von Ehrenwald, Geehrte of Reinmar

Ehrenwald Sigil, "Bewachen Unser Ehre"

[HugoAntero 1962]

Otto mused on the meanings of runestones. Perhaps he should erect one himself one day, after he had made a mark on the world.

[rep2k 3192]

Amidst his tiresome work, Louis-Caspian dismisses letter after letter, finally revealing one with strange markings that catch his eye.

 

“Oh… Oh, this is intriguing… Interesting. I ought to have studied this better…” he murmurs repeatedly as he reads the missive’s contents.

[Barbarus 1232]

The elder Stroheim’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he saw the sheer effort and quality put into this.

[Samson Option 9652]

A letter is penned to Estmund. On one side of the letter, a stark & geometric laconic phrase, WHERE, is penned. On the other side of the letter though reads multiple lines:

 

Where, may I ask, stand your runes?

From which quarries are your stones mined & who among you hewns?

Whither exalted ends will the runes bid your kin toward?

I ask this not from wroth, nor from rudeness, but to urge this practice forward

I am of the Cingedoz, whose kinsmen raised many such runestones

I invite you to look upon them at the greater peak overlooking Merryweather

And upon the lesser hill seen from the castle of Apfelberg

Look upon one rotund runestone caught in the marsh betwixt Aaun & Lurin

And another that has survived the war against Veletz outside the St Judite keep

Many more runestones had been raised in old Almaris

Study them, but better yet - RAISE THEM

Keep this art and this practice alive!

Your kin of the Reinmarenoz & my kin of the Cingedoz

In fact raised a runestone together in the lands of old Minitz in Almaris

 

The letter is stamped deeply with the following symbol:

[DogWithABanana 100]

Spoiler

1 hour ago, Ibn Khaldun said:

A letter is penned to Estmund. On one side of the letter, a stark & geometric laconic phrase, WHERE, is penned. On the other side of the letter though reads multiple lines:

 

Where, may I ask, stand your runes?

From which quarries are your stones mined & who among you hewns?

Whither exalted ends will the runes bid your kin toward?

I ask this not from wroth, nor from rudeness, but to urge this practice forward

I am of the Cingedoz, whose kinsmen raised many such runestones

I invite you to look upon them at the greater peak overlooking Merryweather

And upon the lesser hill seen from the castle of Apfelberg

Look upon one rotund runestone caught in the marsh betwixt Aaun & Lurin

And another that has survived the war against Veletz outside the St Judite keep

Many more runestones had been raised in old Almaris

Study them, but better yet - RAISE THEM

Keep this art and this practice alive!

Your kin of the Reinmarenoz & my kin of the Cingedoz

In fact raised a runestone together in the lands of old Minitz in Almaris

 

The letter is stamped deeply with the following symbol:

 

Estmund received a letter post-haste. One side decorated with the large letterings of WHERE. He raises it in a better light to read its contents then finally smile at the stamped symbol. He appreciates it by eye before putting the letter down. "Cingedoz..." He says aloud then muses. "I should host an expedition."  He grabs his coat and leaves for a cartography shoppe.