Jodie Forrest has taken a familiar story — that of Thomas the Rhymer — and successfully fused it with both Norse mythology and her own blend of history and fantasy.
Thomas, or rather Tomas, is a young Norseman in this telling, sent to Wales as a member of a raiding party in an attempt to avoid scandal at home. He is a follower of Odin, but not in the berserker sense his crewmates share. Not surprisingly, Tomas is a skald, skilled with both voice and harp. Having no taste for blood, Tomas flees the first battle his crewmates instigate. In his horrified and sickened state, Tomas witnesses a vision of the Norn (Norse Fates) weaving in the sky above, and then encounters a woman who will forever change his life: the Welsh elf queen, Moira.
A brief dalliance with Moira leads to the familiar trip to Fairy, though from there Forrest’s rendition veers far from the traditional. There is the usual loss of time in the mortal world, and the elf queen’s gift of true speech and prophecy, but the circumstances are far different.
Tomas, it appears, has been brought to Fairy not merely at Moira’s whim, but to accomplish a task for the whole of Fairy: steal Odin’s twin ravens, Thought and Memory, from their home in Asgard. Worship of the Norse gods, and of the Nazarene even moreso, has impinged upon the elves’ ability to travel between worlds, and has adversely affected Fairy itself. The ravens possess knowledge, and would make a fine bargaining chip with Odin. Or so Moira tells Tomas.
From there, the novel chronicles Tomas’ travels from Fairy to Asgard via Wales, Wessex, Ireland, Birka and Uppland, each step dogged by his new-found abilities (not all of which were expected), and by Hel, who has been cheated of Tomas’ death by Moira. It is a journey of growth and self-discovery, as the short-sighted young Norseman becomes more aware of the nature of others, of the worlds around him, and most importantly, of his own being. Several of the characters he interacts with are memorable: the historical King Alfred of Wessex, wise old Mother Aud of Birka, and Loki (yes, that Loki), father of lies. The last, in particular, is delightfully rendered by Forrest, and appears all too briefly, alas. To reveal too much of the plot specifics would do the book — and the two that follow it — a disservice. I will just say that Tomas is successful in his quest, but at an unexpected, world-shattering price that neither he nor Moira could have anticipated.
Although Forrest’s prose drags a bit in places, on the whole, The Rhymer and the Ravens is an enjoyable, easy read. There is good attention paid to historical accuracy and to the blending of divergent mythologies (Celtic and Norse, in particular). Forrest’s elves, pookas, nisses and other fairy folk are well fleshed-out and full of personality — charismatic and otherworldly. Tomas himself is a well-rounded character, struggling and conflicted as he comes to grips with who he is and the reality of his life-to-be. For a unique view of a well-known tale, The Rhymer and the Ravens is definitely worth a read.
The musically inclined may also wish to listen to the accompanying rock opera of the same name.
(Seven Paws Press, 1995)
