Why the Sea is Salt

by Lord Janek Shiron (m.k.a. Ron Garret)

[Based on a folk tale as told by an unknown story
teller in Tarnmist circa AS20 or so.  If anyone knows
who this might have been please let me know.]

Good even' gentles, good health unto you all
So too unto your glorious feasting hall
For I have travelled many, many days
Down road and avenue and other ways
There living by what means I could devise
The particulars I'll leave to your surmise
Suffice to say I twice nigh lost a hand
And poor men are not honored in the land

But here is bounty beyond all compare
Matched only by the charm of ladies fair
Whose charm is matched in turn by verity
And matched above all else by charity
So for your kindness, gentles one and all
Your company, the shelter of your hall
For all which to you I in debt remain
I humbly thank and thank you for again
Where'er I go where I my glass may raise
There shall the fair folk of the Mists be praised

And so that kindness be repaid in kind
I have a tale to tell which you will find
Is God's own truth in every last devise
And may He strike me down if these be lies!

Then by your leave the tale I shall relay
Of why the sea is salt unto this day

For God did not create the oceans brine
But filled the seas with water sweet as wine
As fresh and clear as any mountain stream
And multitudes of fish did therein teem

Somewhere within this golden age long gone
There lived a good, hard-working farmer man.
Not rich, and yet not poor, he was content
With that which every autumn harvest lent.
What he could eat he kept, the rest he sold
Bought clothing for his family with the gold
And lived his life a happy man and free
Content with but a simple destiny

But then one year the storms in August came
And lashed his fields beneath a pounding rain
And from the skies a swarm of locusts came
To claim the meager harvest that remained
Great hardship did befall that winter time
For he had neither meat nor ale nor wine
And they had to content with rats and flies
And grumbling stomachs over children's cries

Now, the farmer's brother was a wealthy man
Whose influence ranged far across the land
His manor it was said had rooms a-score
A library, great baths, ten hearths or more
His larder never lacked for meat nor mead
His horses never wanted for their feed
And so the farmer set out for to plead
For charity in this his time of need

His journey took him far and took him wide
Over many miles of countryside
And through a silent, dark, and sullen wood
And past a little clearing wherein stood
A little bearded man with axe in hand
And many trees had bowed to his command

A friendly greeting did the two exchange:
"What ho, my friend, what causes you to range
upon a frigid froth December day?  Pray tell
Mayhap I'll help you find the way."

"I seek my brother's manor to convey
My greetings for the coming Yule tide day
And for to seek a scrap of charity
With which to feed my hungry family."

"God speed you on your way, my friend, and then
Perhaps we'll meet when you return again."

The farmer then continued on his way
And found at length the valley wherein lay
His brother's manor.  And a warmer greeting still
Did show his brother's friendship and good will
And when he told his brother of his plight
He said, "You'll have a ham this very night!"
And sent him with a servant to his store
Where hung nigh 'bout a hundred hams or more
And gave to him the very smallest one
('twas all that he could carry all alone)

The farmer thanked his brother and departed
The great smoked ham upon his back he carted
Through muck and mire and snow and sludge and rain
Until he happened to return again
Unto that self same clearing in the wood
And once again the little man there stood

"What ho, my friend, I see you did succeed
To gain your brother's grace in time of need
But listen, I've a secret for to tell
And if you heed 'tis bound to serve you well
For I know where the faery folk do dwell
'tis there beyond those trees that I did fell
Their magic it is great, all things they can
And they just happen to be fond of ham
If you just go and enter in their lair
And let this fine smoked odor linger there
Their mouths will water and their stomachs roar
And soon their eyes'll peek out behind the door
And they will make you offers for your ham!
But each and every one you must withstand
First silver by the handful, then in piles,
Then droves to fill a road for miles and miles
And gold the likes no king has ever dreamed
Jewels and gems that none have ever seen
And riches far beyond what I can say
But to every one you must say nay
And wait until their riches they reclaim
And ask you then for your own price to name
Then quickly say to them these words, no more:
I'll have the hand-mill lying behind the door.
Then haste, make fair exchange and take the mill
Come quickly to me here and then I will
The remainder of my secrets then reveal
And tell you why you'll've got yourself a deal."

The farmer, being curious, did agree
And went off to the woods there for to see
And lo! there was a hole there in the ground!
And in he went, and down, and down, and down
And soon the smell of ham did fill the air
And just as soon the faery folk were there
"Kind sir, what may we offer for your ham?
We'll pay in fair exchange what you demand
We'll give you silver and we'll give you gold
We'll give you jewels lovely to behold
And riches in whate'er amount you please"
Said the farmer, "I'll be having none of these."
"Surely will you in no way be swayed?
For we've not tasted ham these many days
So sate ourselves no other will suffice
We'll give you anything, just named your price."
And then the farmer spake these words, no more:
"I'll have the hand-mill lying behind the door."

Immediately the faeries raised the cry
"Nae, that we cannot give, we'd sooner die!"
But they had bade him name his price, and so
For honor's sake, they let the hand-mill go.

And so the farmer left the faerie lair
The ham he'd toiled to get he left them there
And so returned unto the woods again
And this the little man did tell him then:
"You've done well as the fickle fates allow
A ham you had, but no ham have you now
Yet think upon that ham you once possessed
So finely smoked with smell and flavor blessed
Think on't, and then the mill these words do tell:
Grind ham, and do it quick, and do it well."
And when the farmer did has he was shown
The mill began to grind all on its own!
And at one end a little ham did show
Which then began to grow, and grow, and grow
No sooner did one ham lay by their side
That a second ham the mill began to grind
But before the mill could grind out yet a third
The little man did speak a magic word.
As quick as it began, it stopped.  The man
Reached down and lifted up one of the hams.
"That ham is yours for which you named this price,
This one is mine, the fee for my advice."
And so the man walked off onto the fen
And the farmer never saw of him again.

Immediately the farmer took the mill
So too the ham for he hungered for it still
And ran back to his wife as quick as thought
And said to her, "See, wife, what I have got!"
Now I'll not weary you with long accounts
Of what he ground and when and what amounts
Suffice to say his fortune did expand
And soon he was a very wealthy man.

Now news of his good fortune quickly crept
For such a secret cannot long be kept
And soon the farmer's brother came to call
To ask the price to buy the mill withall
Said the farmer, "There is no price on my mill
I shall not sell it now, and never will."
They argued long and hard and hours passed
Yet still by his refusal stood he fast
And so in peace the brother did depart
But still the greed lurked deep within his heart
And he resolved to stand behind his will
So he returned that night and stole the mill

Then quickly to his manor with his prize
He plotted how to make his fortunes rise
But first he thought to test the mill a bit
Upon a whim -- a pudding well would fit!
And so he went and spake unto the mill
"Grind pudding, and do it quick, and do it well."
Immediately pudding issued forth
The finest pudding in the south or north
It spilled from off the table to the floor
And sent a pudding river out the door
And soon a mighty hue and cry was heard
For the brother didn't know the magic word.

The brother sent a rider to the farm
To beg for help before all came to ham
And when the farmer came he was amazed
To see acre upon acre in a glaze!
And such a fine and tasty pudding too
But a puddingside for country would not do
So the farmer spoke the magic word, and then
His brother never bothered him again.

I wish this were the ending of my tale
For all would then be happy, sound and hale
Alas the fates permit it not to be
For some months later came there from the sea
A salt merchant, the mill he hoped to buy
But the farmer did refuse him low and high
And again the merchant would not let it be
And so he stole the mill and put to sea
And being a salt merchant told the mill
"Grind salt, and do it quick, and do it well."

The ending of my tale you all now know
The mill ground salt, the hold did overflow
The ship went down, and that is why I say
That greed is why the sea is salt today
For somewhere far beneath the ocean's foam
Where ne'er a man nor beast may ever roam
There lies a hand-mill far beneath the spray
That grinds out salt unto this very day.