The Prince In the Pond Myth in Heathens | World Anvil

The Prince In the Pond

In an Epoch unknown... and in a place not so unfamiliar, there was man, a prince to be exact. The folk thought well of him, and he intern repaid their kindness. Said to be generous, dashing and brave he roamed this once unbroken land as a Fiann, offering a helping hand to any who might need it.   One day in his travels among the high cliffs and emerald hills of Tol Vierda, where the folk of Traigh and Brone reside, he heard speak of a dreadful beast. It lurked in the deep woods. Great and black, A hound of foul origin. The villagers whisper of Til Na Drah, The farer Lands and its hand in monster's appearance in the once peaceful forest. So in fear they turned to their prince to deliver them from this terror. The noble was strong, he had slain many wicked men and beasts. It filled him with pride, so he took to the darkness of the forest without a second thought and in so doing sealed his fate.   It was on the third day, on the third hour of travel, through the bramble and past the briers did our Prince find his mark. It lumbered with great weight and purpose into a clearing, it fur like oily midnight, it claws long like dagger, but then their were its eyes, which truly brought the foolish Fiann up short. They were dead things, bloodshot and swarming with buzzing flies. This Wicked hound smelled of death, of rot, of the otherness just out of reach of mortal men. It spoke then that hound of nightmare in a scornful parody of speech.   "Snickity snack, I shall feast upon your flesh"   "creekity crack, skitter and flee, for three threshes they'll be"   "Nashing bashing madness, I am, I will be again and so will you, again and again."   "slashing crashing darkness, will be my fate and yours, down and down again"   "Break and bind, the fae have align, to see a prince beneath and bound"   "forsaken and consigned we will forever be entwined to Glas and Drowned..."   It rattle rasping voice assailed our fair hero, sending his mind into deep freeze of pain and confusion. he did not know yet what this horrible hound spoke of. but he would in time. Then with a great howl the monster did charged That prince of man fangs bared.   They fought among the trees, the hills and the cliff. Atop The Burrow of Blagyn and beneath the bows of the Wending Tree. For threefold days and nights, man and beast weaved in a deadly dance to blood and gore. With the princes mighty axe he cleaved into into it inky hide, disgorging blood the color of pitch, it bleed and wined but still it came on undaunted by the steel. Battled and racked with weeping wounds himself the prince stumbled on the thirds night into a pond, deep with The Cairnswood.   It was here that the final fates of the two would be foretold. As the prince regained his footing amongst the reed and shallows, he saw that great dog had stopped in it pursuit of his flesh. it hesitated shying away from the water. The prince curious at his foes meekness, struck the water and dousing the black monstrosity as it stood before him. It let out and ear shattering howl as it the water burned its dark skin. confidence and strength filled the Warriors mind. He dropped his axe, sprang forward with every once of power he could muster and grappled the hound, wrenching the beast into the pond with him.   There a grand struggle ensued under the starlight of an unforgiving night the pair wreathed vying of purchase. Dragging one another further an further into the pool. The Black hound scream agony all the while. Just as the footing grew too treacherous and deep for the prince his hand wrapped around the hilt of his only remaining weapon, his dagger. pulling it free The Fiann prepared to deliver a final fatal blow to the monster that had tormented him and his folk . But before he could plunge the blade deep into the dogs skull its skin parted before his very eyes. like doffing of a clock beneath the living fur was a woman of insurmountable beauty. Dazed was he by her stunning otherworldly visage did our Protagonist make his final blunder. He hesitated to slay her and he would suffer eternally for it. The fae struck, an evil grin marring that perfect face.   Down and down the duo went, deeper into the depth of the pond, The prince struggled and writhed against the supernatural grip of the fae. his world would be darkness from then on. he watched in horror as the still living skin of the hound slithered and begun to warp around the drowning man's form. Three time the skin encircled around his body and three time he fought and failed to stop it. at the bottom of that pond that we now call Loch Glas. our doomed prince did fall prey to that deadly trick. Warp and bound, he would reside. entwined by the fae and the fur. forever imprisoned, downing but undying. They say he still resides there to this day. cursed to be the black hound himself. some folk claim to have seen him, a soaked black dog step forth from that infamous pool when the moons are full and the wailing hours are at hand.
Illustration by Adam Burke
Date of First Recording
143 EL by Brohnwyn Three Strings
Date of Setting
Specifics unknown


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