93

wyrm


"I don't propose to tell you all the legends of Mercia, or even to make a selection of them. It will be better, I think, for our purpose if we consider a few facts--recorded or unrecorded--about this neighbourhood. I think we might begin with Diana's Grove. It has roots in the different epochs of our history, and each has its special crop of legend. The Druid and the Roman are too far off for matters of detail; but it seems to me the Saxon and the Angles are near enough to yield material for legendary lore. We find that this particular place had another name besides Diana's Grove. This was manifestly of Roman origin, or of Grecian accepted as Roman. The other is more pregnant of adventure and romance than the Roman name. In Mercian tongue it was 'The Lair of the White Worm.'

My stomach is full. Possibly too much stew from the kettle. Its not easy keeping warm. I want to sleep but it isn't possible. Especially after Brother's long winded tale about the dragons. How they came about. The legend.

"What we are yearning here, is no dragon," he says. "Rather a God. Possibly a serpant. But he thinks he's one, none the less. Yes, my love, he's wormed its way into our life. Don't you understand? There are worshipers out there who bring it to life everyday. There is no stopping it."

He claims in his youth, he thought he could tolerate such a burden. "But it draws you in. It has its way. And you need it, after while. Because it lets you become it. If only for a time. If only for a moment."

Perhaps God has changed him. I'm not quite sure. I pray I know these things. But I'm not sure if what he says is true.

Its all a bit squimish to me. The blood of virgins. The sacrifices. Lingering in the caverns about our world.

It grows. So much to swallow. So much ancient times.

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