Grávölvan

In faith and fable

forego disbelief,

For what I fancy

fortune found to be.

And fate, though fickle,

favors those brave few

First formed by Freyja,

forged in flesh and fire.

Three lives, though different,

this one thread did share.

Though unthinkable,

thus far unfathomed,

That through the thresher

thrice one seed fell forth.

Three times thus to live,

three brother kings served.

Rage, rot, and ruin

riddled that first reign

Where Eiðgir the Gray

ruled o'er raid and rape.

Right at his ready

ruthlessly rode I

'Til an arrow rent

reckoning regret.

Cremate nor coffin

could hold me a corpse,

Incarnate I came

cursed in second life.

Now a skjaldmey clad

in King Ráðgeirr's court.

Trothed to the king's kin,

caged by creed and cunt.

Governed by Ráðgeirr

great was our grown clan.

But Gray Eiðgir's guilt

gambled off his gain.

For godless glory

gathers godly gall,

And grim greed begets

grief for gaiety.

To Vidar's vengeance

vowed Eiðgir's rivals,

Vandalizing veiled

votive revelry

With the vile vitals

of our envoy's heads.

Their visit a vain

vendetta devout.

Half our host hastened

hell's hunt for those fiends.

Whilst helmed and hardy

hied husband and I,

Hazarding Höðgr,

harsh havoc to sow.

Hence hewn by heathen

hordes to horrid ends.

Newborn in nightmare,

nascent and nerveless,

A nonperson now

once honored noble.

No gods to my name

nor natural home.

Notched down to nothing

and naïve to what's next.

Yet I remained yare,

yolked and still loyal.

Sinew and soul yen,

yearning beyond.

Norn’s yarn at the yew

used up youth not will.

Yield not nor refuse,

yonder yawns renown!

What patron picked me,

plucked from all the planes,

As puppet and pawn

placed in strange power?

Three princes, proud kings,

paired with this poor soul?

Each past life a path

planned out to purge hence:

Eiðgir's crazed razing

as eldest devised

Cozen possession,

zealously misered,

By risen devils

hazing his whole line.

Bizarrely chosen

was I to excise.

Sweet Fáðgir, last son,

seiðmenn 'twas assumed,

Took his sacred place

once Red Ráðgeirr passed.

Slave then was I still,

secret seiðkonur,

Slotted as savior,

sage grávölvan sung.

Time taught Fáðgir Tyr’s

traits of justice stern.

What was attained ere

'twas made greater still.

That to a fertile

tribe bounteous gain,

But cost at his own

thought and sanity.

Bedeviled by dreams

bringing bestial imps,

Bleak, Fáðgir's bearing

bodily breaking.

Bending not to bale,

bravely he bore it.

Better he than both

brothers before him.

Meanwhile myself mere

maid of no means,

Mourning a mother

mostly omitted,

Minding a monstrous

mistress made maven.

Magic my lifeblood,

memory my balm.

Lifetimes of battle

loomed large behind me,

Lessons in labor

laid lost before me.

My sole valued jewel

letters of vǫlur,

Long though I lingered,

loosed I leapt world-ward.

Young still but dying

of hunger and pang,

Long ere I mingled

among stranger lands.

Stronger than anguish

King Fáðgir engaged

In ruling his throngs'

ongoing being.

Destiny deigned us

drawn both to Dalur

Where the damned demon

drank deeply Fáðgir.

On death’s door dwelling

divined I his doom,

And drew its decay

down to destruction.

Fluent was Fáðgir

facing his folly

When fully I fired

freeing his fury,

And funding my fugue,

frail I faded.

Fáðgir a friend now

favored me fondly.

Therefore I thoughtless

thralled the foremost thane,

With seiðr thwarting

the thrawn curse on him.

Thence a sooth subject

the throne did entrust,

Worthy and healthy

in thanks for my troth.

Rare was the royal

raven Fáðgir’s realm

Where serf and warrior

were equally rich.

I reeled at the wealth

rendered by his rule.

Peace reigned in riches,

refuge was real.

Their kindness catching

kindled my focus,

But seiðkonur keen

kenned me peculiar.

Cosmic my magic,

condemned and proscribed.

Cautioned to conceal

questionable craft.

Following Fáðgir

fearfully I fled.

My seiðr loathed by

those I left threaping.

Ready he waited

greeting my return

With care and a kiss,

crowning me his queen.

**********

My humble contribution to the ancient world of alliterative verse, paying homage to the Old Norse poetic forms. Specifically, as far as language would allow it, the fornyrðislag metrical form typified in Eddaic poetry. And for those who know their Nordic letters, I wrote this alliterative of the Elder Futhark!