There dwells a terrible creature,
Born from a wise female giant,
Fathered by the king of all shadows.
Called only by his description,
Dyret meaning ‘beast’.
A cambion of massive proportions,
Able to break chunks of rock from the mountains,
And hurl them down,
He was the maker of all unnatural avalanches,
And he loved to terrorise.
In particular,
A nearby village,
Called Ingenplass,
Often felt the horrific hands of the giant.
He would pinch their cattle,
And hurl the left over bones into their streets.
He would drink all their well water,
And throw the bricks onto the roofs of their homes.
He would also launch snowballs,
And cover the entire village in six feet of ice and snow.
The villagers knew something would have to happen,
Something would have to be done to stop the Dyret.
And so they prayed.
They called out to their patron god, Thor.
“Oh Thor, Oh Thor, mighty god,
Send us one strong enough to save us!”
And the sky cracked with lightening,
And the air rumbled with thunder,
And then it ended.
There was no sign of anything else,
Until three days had passed,
And upon the doorstep,
Of the village blacksmith,
Appeared a basket,
With a newborn baby inside.
The villagers took this as a sign,
And they named the child ‘boy’,
Or in their tongue,
Gutt.
Three days passed and the boy aged three years.
The villagers were stunned,
The eldest of Ingenplass addressed the town,
“People, do not be shocked,
For this is what we prayed for,
Thor has sent us Gutt,
And he will slay the Dyret!”
The villagers were unsure,
Yes Gutt was magnificent,
And special,
But still he was only a child.
Three days passed and the boy aged another three years.
The boy was now six years of age,
The eldest of Ingenplass addressed the town,
“People, this is what we prayed for,
Thor has sent us Gutt,
And he will slay the Dyret!”
The villagers were unsure,
Yes Gutt was magnificent,
And special,
But still he was only a child.
Until, one day,
When the Dyret was tossing tree logs,
Down upon the village.
One trapped the blacksmith,
Pinned him to the ground,
But Gutt lifted the log,
High above his head,
And freed his adoptive father.
The towns people cheered,
And it made them listen to the elder,
They decided the boy was ready,
To fight the Dyret,
Even though he was so young.
The blacksmith was not happy,
He did not want such a young child,
To go into such danger,
And so he crafted him a sword,
Silver handled,
And so he crafted him a shield,
Lined with gold,
And asked Freyja to bless both items.
He gave them to Gutt,
And the boy was sent towards the mountain,
Where the Dyret roamed.
The Dyret let out a horrendous laugh,
That sounded like a high pitched scream.
“Foolish villagers, sending a boy,
What do they think will happen?
I am the Dyret, And I am a prince,
No child is a match for me!”
The Dyret continued to laugh,
It sounded like a whaling cat crying.
“Foolish villagers, sending a boy,
What do they think will happen?
I am the Dyret, And I am a prince,
Look at the men I have slayed!”
And he pointed to the skeletons of many warriors,
And he pointed to the skeletons of many knights.
Despite all this,
The boy kept moving closer to the Dyret.
The Dyret continued to rant,
And as he was distracted,
Gutt thrust the silver sword into the giants smallest toe.
“Ghaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” yelled the Dyret.
His toe bled.
He was so angry with the boy,
And the villagers that had sent him,
That he rushed t0 the nearest mountain,
Broke off the cap,
And held it above the village,
Ready to drop,
And crush everything.
But it was too late,
The rock had been dropped.
Without hesitation,
Gutt threw his shield at the rock,
And it smashed it,
Into a thousand pieces,
Each one tiny and insignificant.
“Ghaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” yelled the Dyret.
He began to chase Gutt,
Gutt sprinted,
Faster and faster,
Ducking and dodging every swipe,
From the terrible fiends oafish hands,
Until eventually,
The Dyret,
Exhausted from running,
And all the blood he had lost through his toe,
Fell to the ground dead.
His collapse let out a huge earthquake,
Letting all the villagers know,
That finally he was no more,
And they rushed to Gutt,
And cheered.
Gutt was a hero,
And he had proved once again,
That size did not denote strength,
That the old are not always the most cunning,
And that bravery is shown,
By the deeds we enact.