Thor to Sif

Barely were you my bride

Still unused to baring yourself

The damp fertile winds after rain.

Strong hands on both of us, strong

Fingers intertwining, strength meeting strength

In joyous striving. No fear of breaking

In this troth, this mated meeting

Bare were you, my bride,

The fine wheat gold of your hair

Lost, bereft, sheered away, stolen

As Loki kept his troth with his kin,

Returned to the Etins the magic of

An etin maid. And the tears of shame

Fell hot as rain scouring the earth,

Fell away, fell vengeful. Fields

Lay smoking in their stubble,

No shock remained for harvest Lady.

Barren were you, my bride? Never

While my arm’s cunning can enforce.

Sent again Loki to the dwarves to have wrought

What my strife alone could not create.

We longed for each other, yet remained apart,

Parted by unluck, holding, waiting

-- Lightnings ravaged the ungiving earth.

That winter was heated in fury.

Brandishing, my bride, the priestess

Put on her gold of power, gold hard wrought

That glittered, seething with soft waves of stems urge.

The fields rose up to the rain.

Mistress of my hall,

A wife is more beautiful than a bride.

And the seed-hills swell with wetting.

Hilary Ayer

Summer's End

My heart dwells forever in harvest home,
This sacred season of summer's ending.
The rich, red, ripe apples, the green gold pears,
Comfort my cold bones and sing sweet solace
That hope will not hide from our folk forever.
We will stand safe and strong on our own Steads.
Renowned, remembered as our ancient kin,
Those hale hearty folk whose ways were as just
As a hard, lonely land would allow them.

Laurel Mendes

Skathi

fierce crystal blue eyes

flowing white hair

she stands at the edge

of the winter kissed forest

bow in hand

at night the snow sparkles

a million tiny stars

a million tiny diamonds

silent, perfect

so few things in this world

are as pure as freshly fallen mountain snow

or as valuable as that which you have hunted long and

hard and won

this is her treasure

crashing wall of snow and ice

howling wolves, hungry for fresh flesh

slashing wind that takes away your breath

this is her treasure too

harsh realities

make us stronger

teach us how to live with passion

remind us that we are not separate or exempt

from nature

you may yearn for the warmth of the fire

but once full and rested

the heart of a hunter

can not help

but ache for her company...

Denise Bowen

Ale Jarl

Aegir, Laird of the rolling main

Aegir, swan road's your home

Snowy foam oer salty whale way

Ale Brewer, Hall Host blest

Ale halls are cheered by your good gift

Fruit of the fields made into drink

Inspires joy, songs from the Folk

Trú fellowship under Hall Frith

Forested hills, rolling treetops

Reminding all of deep green swells

Thor and Teiwaz crossed land and sea

Aegir then gained vat for brewing

- Burden -

Filled by Gymir, cups of the Gods

Everflowing vat of bright ale

Around the Hearth, merrily feast

Aesir, Vanir, sit in good cheer

Aegir's Alehof is warmly lit

Kept very well by servants two

Dark Tempered One became displeased

Slew cupbearer then fled the garth

- Burden -

Aegir did host Ases at feast

High bench and low filled by bright fame

The Wily One entered within

Flyting and wrath riled the Hall

Slayer was bound, Deeming of Gods

Back to the feast, all then returned

Saddened by Deed, but wiser too

Gladdened by ale, burden lightened

- Burden -

Hail to Aegir, Master of Ale

Hail the Farmers, Hail the Brewers

From them we get, our meat and drink

Hail to the Hosts, and the Servers

Ale halls are cheered by your good gift

Fruit of the fields made into drink

Inspires joy, songs from the Folk

Trú fellowship under Hall Frith

- Burden -

 By Stefn Ullarsson Piparskeggr, also called - Skjaldberi Ullar
Catamount Grange Hearth - Husband
Oak Shadow Kindred - Skald

Son of Deed

(1st stave is repeated as the Burden.)

Thor, Son of Deed, Mighty Do-er
Your name has spread, across Midgarth
Thor Odinsson, Will to His Wit
Innangard's Fist, Worlds' Traveler

Black storm clouds rise, thunderclaps roll
Asa Thor rides, Ettins to slay
Mankind's Old Friend, guarding the Weal
Strength in action, as we should be

Thor of the North, common man's friend
Fighting Ettins, with Mjollnir
Swiftly it strikes, just like a bolt
Out of the blue, brightly, then gone
- Burden -

Stories in Lore, tell of his deeds
Stout warrior, hearty and hale
Fist to the fore, striking the foes
Of Asgard's tribes, and of all Life

Hammer and gloves, broad brazen belt
Protecting Folk, from ill intent
Strength upon strength, power for right
Quickly He strikes, always does act
- Burden -

Gold lightning flash, crosses blue sky
Nary a cloud, is within sight
What could this be, this spark above
Fault in my eyes, or other thing

Without a storm, on a cool day
How can this be, lightning bolt thrown
Nature teasing, Godly message
The latter I, do think calmly
- Burden -

Lesson I think, is to Act Now
Strive always to, do what is right
Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose
But overall, we build the Good

Black storm clouds rise, thunderclaps roll
Asa Thor rides, Ettins to slay
Mankind' Old Friend, guarding the Weal
Strength in action, as we should be
- Burden -

By Stefn Ullarsson Piparskeggr, also called - Skjaldberi Ullar
Catamount Grange Hearth - Husband
Oak Shadow Kindred - Skald

THE TEUTON’S BATTLE SONG
by
H. P. Lovecraft

The might Woden laughs upon his throne,
And once more claims his children for his own.
The voice of Thor resounds again on high,
While arm’d Valkyries ride from out of ths sky:
The Gods of Asgard all their pow’rs released
To rouse the dullard from his dream of peace.
Awake! Ye hypocrites, and deign to scan
the actions of your “brotherhood of Man”.
Could your shrill pipings in the race impair
The warlike impulse put by nature there?
Where now the gentle maxims of the school,
The cant of preachers, and the Golden Rule?
What feeble word or doctrine now can sway?
Too long restrain’d, the bloody tempest breaks,
And Midgard ‘neath the tread of warriors shakes,
On to death, Beserker bold! And try
In acts of Godlike bravery to die!
Who cares to find the heaven of the priest,
When only warriors can with Woden feast?
The flesh of Schrimnir, and the cup of mead,
Are but for him who falls in martial deed:
You luckless boor, that passive meets his end,
May never in Valhalla’s court contend.
Slay, brothers, slay! And bathe in crimson gore;
Let Thor, triumphant, view the sport once more!
All other thoughts are fading in the mist,
But to attack, or of attack’d, resist.
List, great Alfadur, to the clash of steel;
How like a man does each brave swordsman feel!
The cries of pain, the roars of rampant rage,
In one vast symphony our ears engage.
Strike! Strike him down! Whoever bars the way;
Let each kill many ere he die today!
Ride o’er the weak; accomplish what ye can;
The Gods are kindest to the strongest man!
Why should we fear? What greater joy than this?
Asgard alone could give us sweeter bliss!
My strength is waning; dimly can I see
the helmeted Valkyries close to me.
Ten more I slay! How strange the thought of fear,
With Woden’s mounted messengers so near!
The darkness comes; I feel my spirit rise;
A kind Valkyrie bears me to the skies.
With conscience clear, I quit the earth below,
The boundless joys of Woden’s halls to know.
The grove of Glasir soon shall I behold,
And on Valhalla’s tablets be enroll’d:
There to remain, till Heimdall’s horn shall sound,
And Ragnarok enclose creation round;
And Bifrost break beneath bold Surtur’s horde,
And Gods and men fall dead beneath the sword;
When sun shall die, and sea devour the land,
And stars descend, and naught but Chaos stand.
Then shall Alfadur make his realm anew,
And Gods and men with purer life indue.
In that blest country shall Abundance reign,
Nor shall one vice or woe of earth remain.
Then, not before, shall men their battles cease,
And live at last in universal peace.
Thro’ cloudless heavens shall the eagle soar,
And happiness prevail for evermore.