Page 3 of Grimdark Magazine Issue 48

To convey this lament for the past, the poet used a very old story and showed excellent taste by adding a dragon to it. We know that Grendel and his mother came from a communal cauldron of stories, the poet’s ancestral inheritance, because analogues to them exist in Old Norse. But the dragon! The grimdark tone marking the poem’s early portions casts a towering shadow over the poet’s original portrayal of an old king battling the scaly monster that attacked his home.

Beowulf abounds with ripped-off arms, chopped-off heads, and fang-punctured necks, but gore is only one of its grimdark traits. Even during the hero’s triumphs, there is an undercutting tone of bleakness, a reminder that this bright victory too will succumb to the long darkness. Following Grendel’s defeat, the celebration in the mead hall includes the scop’s tale of Hildeburh. A noblewoman given as a peaceweaver to a rival tribe’s leader, Hildeburh witnesses the peace unravel horrifically as warriors on both sides renew the feud. With her, we see the eager flames devour her son and her brother at their funeral pyre. It also foreshadows how Grendel’s mother will shatter the peace by carrying on the feud with the Danes.

Fragile human efforts at peace and order seem doomed in a world where violence predominates. Grendel attacked Heorot in the first place in opposition to the light and order that Hrothgar had established; the song of creation within particularly enraged him. But it is not the monsters who wreak the most destruction. Beowulf is rife with tangents and allusions to stories like Hildeburh’s, stories of human vengeance and feuds that bring to ruin our attempts to build and prosper.

Even Beowulf, the hero of the hour, sees little reason for optimism. When he reports home to his uncle Hygelac, he predicts Hrothgar’s efforts toward peace with a rival tribe by marrying off his daughter will end in disaster (they do).

But Beowulf is the hero, one who follows the pagan heroic code to its utmost. Doom and darkness surround him, and fate is unstoppable, but Beowulf’s answer to this is “defiance in the absence of hope”: “Wyrd oft nereð unfægne eorl, þonne his ellen deah!” (Lines 572-573). “Fate often spares an undoomed warrior when his courage holds!”

Beowulf’s embodiment of the pagan Germanic heroic code explains his decision to fight the dragon alone. He must obtain vengeance for its hostility toward his folk, whom he protects. The old king also wants to go out with a fireball. Win or lose, what better song to leave behind for the scop than combat with a dragon, his last great deed?

Doom hangs over the whole encounter, with Beowulf foretelling his demise. In the end, he needs Wiglaf’s help. More importantly, even loyal Wiglaf makes clear the consequences of Beowulf’s glorious death. “Oft sceall eorl monig anes willan wræc adreogan, swa us geworden is.” (Lines 3077-3078). “Often many suffer harm through one man’s will, as has happened to us.” Bereft of their great leader, the Geats will succumb to foes, and their tribe will be no more. The dragon is dead. So are the Geats. A Pyrrhic victory, indeed. Beowulf is no antihero, but his adherence to ideals is costly.

The poem ends, as it begins, with a pagan funeral. Amidst lamentations, the Geats honor their dead king by burying the treasure he won from the dragon in his mound, a testament to his greatness in a culture where treasure tells stories of bravery and loyalty. Yet, there is a hint of futility to the gesture. What good will buried treasure be to a tribe facing extinction? There’s even a whiff of a curse about the gold and jewels as this is not the first time they have witnessed a tribe’s death. The “lay of the last survivor” relates the fate of the treasure’s previous owners, before the dragon took it over. Like the Geats, they are gone. Like brave Beowulf, keenest to win fame, their tale has ended in grim darkness.

An English professor specializing in medieval literature, Dr. Philip Chase is the author of The Edan Trilogy and its sequel, While Darkness Gathers, which take some inspiration from Beowulf, among other things. In addition, he runs a YouTube channel, "PhilipChaseTheBestofFantasy," that is dedicated to the critical exploration of fantasy literature. On a good day, you're as likely to find him on a tennis court as not.

The Art of Making: Peter Orullian on Music, Darkness, and Story

By Beth Tabler

Peter Orullian has built a creative life in which music and fiction are almost impossible to separate. He is a novelist, composer, songwriter, and live performer, but those parts of his work do not exist in isolation. Music finds its way into his fiction through his characters, his worldbuilding, and his magic systems. His work with Symphony North moves in the other direction, using concept albums and live performance to tell stories on a larger scale.

That meeting of music and fiction is at the heart of Songs of the Dead, the first book in The Strata Wars, co-written with Brandon Sanderson. Music is built into the novel’s world rather than added for atmosphere. It shapes the characters, the magic, and the story itself, drawing directly on Orullian’s experience as a musician.

We talk about collaboration, the vulnerability of publishing, the challenge of keeping creative work alive once deadlines and expectations enter the picture, and the difference between honest darkness and empty spectacle. We also explore what music can do that prose cannot.

What comes through most clearly is how seriously Orullian takes the act of making art, not only the finished work, but the discipline, vulnerability, and persistence required to bring it into the world.

[GdM] You’ve built a creative life through fiction, songwriting, recording, and live performance. Do those feel like separate parts of your life, or does the same impulse sit underneath all of them?

[PO] Most fiction I write incorporates music in some way, whether it’s a music magic system, musician characters, music as a key part of the worldbuilding, etc. It’s just such a part of who I am that it naturally creeps in. Similarly, almost all the composing I do these days uses narrative to help drive the music and lyrics. I love writing concept albums for that very reason. So, creatively, the two sides just always combine. Performing is creative, too, though in a different way. And I will say live performance stands as one the most rewarding things I do. The immediacy and vulnerability and power of standing in front of an audience and really digging in to deliver your best performance is an experience prize above most things.

[GdM] When an idea arrives, can you usually tell whether it wants to become a song or a story? Have you ever chosen the wrong form at first?

[PO] I don’t get these things crossed up, really. In fact, lately, most of what I create I develop for both mediums. For example, the first concept album I wrote for my group Symphony North, is a 24 song record, a touring production, and I recently completed the novel to flesh out the story in a way that’s not possible with lyrics and a live show.

[GdM] What can music do to an audience that prose cannot? And what can fiction reach that music cannot?

[PO] Fiction is amazing, of course. But I think music touches human emotion in a much more direct and powerful way. It’s a language of its own, and one that is—save lyrical pieces—universal. I love that people all over the world can listen to a Tchaikovsky piece and have much the same experience and feeling.

Fiction, on the other hand, provides the artist more time to develop characters, which I think are likely the most important part of the story. It’s not really possible to delve deep into the backstory of a character and follow on the nuances of decisions and growth, even in a two hour double album and/or show. So, getting invested in characters is, for me, the chief advantage of fiction.

[GdM] Has being a musician changed the way you hear prose? Do you notice rhythm and pacing in a sentence before you notice meaning?

[PO] It has. Though I think I came out of the womb this way. I’ve always heard language musically, in patterns, with cadence and rhythm and sound. I’ll add or subtract words from a sentence that make them less grammatical simply because I think they sound better after the change.

I don’t know that I noticed this before meaning. In fact, a great flow inside even a single sentence does a lot, for me, in emphasizing and landing the meaning.

[GdM] In Songs of the Dead, music is not decoration. It is built into the world itself. Why did music need to be part of the structure of reality rather than simply part of the atmosphere?

[PO] It didn’t, necessarily. I think I could have written it atmospherically, and just had the character be a musician and a part of the music scene. But when we did the worldbuilding, we decided to lean into the character’s competence with music to set him apart. I like how it turned out, and I’m glad we did, especially as the leap point it’s created for the work I’m doing in book 2 right now. And for what it’s worth, I think musicians have an advantage when writing a music magic system, just because they have a different relationship with the art and skill of it. At least, that’s what my readers tell me.

[GdM] Was there anything about music that proved unexpectedly difficult to put into prose?

[PO] The opposite, really. The music elements were the easiest to integrate and write. I suspect if my character had been a carpenter or painter, that would have presented some challenges. I’d have enjoyed those challenges, and I don’t shy away from writing from different perspectives. But I do love writing through a musical lens.

[GdM] Can you remember the first song, album, or live performance that made you realize heavy music could hold more than anger?