The First of Snowberg
From EastKingdomWiki
This is written in the Old Norse Meter fornyrthislag by Magnús hvalmagi, though the general construction is inspired primarily by epic Anlgo-Saxon poetry.
It is the traditional charge of the Baronial Bard of Concordia to chronicle the deeds of the Snowberg Army at Pennsic. In AS 48, Magnús hvalmagi held the position of Baronial bard, but could not witness the Pennsic battles. Instead, he recounted the tale of the origin of the Snowberg army - the tale of a long-lost warrior of the north whose bravery inspired generations.
©2013 Peter Olsen
1. The world was joyous - | wealth and peace were | |
found in all the lands - | few were troubled. | |
But idle minds | and idle souls | |
flourished in those fair | fields of plenty. | |
A sin begat | a greater sin, | |
and soon the ills | of ailing hearts | |
tainted and tortured | the track of men - | |
evils arose | to wreak their doom. | |
2. Far to the west | was found a cleftland | |
stretching deeply - | still it is so named. | |
Deep in the belly | of boiling earth | |
was birthed a beast | of burning rage. | |
Of ache and hurt - | of heart-woe and | |
sinful vengeance | was sired the monster. | |
The enemy of man | was eager to work | |
his schemes and plots | through the sky-burner. | |
3. The worm of flames | on wings of smoke | |
took to the sky | and scoured the land. | |
It razed cities | and ruined farmland - | |
its greed begat | a grief profound. | |
Too little it owned - | the land was ripe | |
and rich with prizes | it possessed not. | |
Its wanting grew | for want of grace, | |
and with it grew the rage | of the wrathful demon. | |
4. To the East it gazed - | a gainsome plot | |
it thought that place - | a prize to claim. | |
From the air it loosed | an oily flame-gout | |
and landed in the ruins | it left behind. | |
Where trees once stood | now stained earth | |
alone could be found - | no life survived. | |
The woodlands rusted | like weapons of iron | |
where the creature stopped - | still they are so named. | |
5. To the north lay | the linden-halls. | |
A cry went out - | the oaks of battle | |
moved to reclaim | their calloused soil! | |
Fierce the fighting - | the flame-clash of | |
sturdy trees | of trials was felt in | |
every land - | and in every hearth. | |
Terrible their losses, | but at last the woods | |
of wounding-poles | repelled the corruptor! | |
6. Back to the west | the wyrm retreated - | |
fleeing at once | the wasted rustlands. | |
To fairer fields | far it hastened, | |
to tend its wounds - | and tender its revenge. | |
A host of the dead | it dragged from the grave - | |
tattered banners | and bloody flags | |
raised from the depths - | red with corpse-mud | |
that cuprous lake - | it is called this still. | |
7. In the East rallied | an army valiant, | |
with strong-limbed | and long-remembering | |
warriors eager | as wolves at the feeding. | |
They marched to that place - | that mire of death - | |
to meet the host | of the hell-fiend | |
and put an end | to the evils of men. | |
Hall-Konr lead them - | that hero of old - | |
none since the Geat | were known as well! | |
8. Met at midfield | the mass of spears - | |
no din of swords | since was as deadly. | |
The fiercest of men | fell to the past - | |
but the pure souls | of savage Tygers | |
welled in their breast | as they battered the foe! | |
Soon they pressed | the sea of rotting | |
back to their graves - | that ground they took | |
and that lake was cleansed - | cleared its good name. | |
9. But victory was brief - | that villain with fury | |
descended from the sky | and scoured the ranks. | |
Its hell-fires | flooded the plain | |
and rent to ash | the ashes of valor. | |
Countless their dead - | their courage faltered - | |
no blades could bite | that beastly hide. | |
Mighty Hall-Konr | hacked at the fiend, | |
but stony claws | struck him to the earth. | |
10. Slinked and stalked | the serpent of hell | |
to the fallen liege, | that lion of men. | |
A great breath | it gathered to loose | |
a river of death - | a red flame-sea. | |
The gout erupted - | but razed no man, | |
the shower parted | by a shield of iron. | |
Clad in a byrnie | of black and gold | |
was an oak alone - | lost is his name. | |
11. That brave warrior | buffered his king - | |
saved his sovereign | from certain death! | |
With dwarf-steel | he struck at the beast, | |
hewed its hide | with a hungry blade. | |
The wretch howled | and hurried away - | |
but he grabbed its tail | with a grip of iron. | |
Then homeward hied | the hell-fiend and foe - | |
and never again | were they known to roam. | |
12. The day was won | by a warrior unnamed - | |
a hero hidden | in the heart of battle. | |
All that remained | was the mantle he'd worn, | |
a scrap of fur | from the frozen north. | |
Said the warriors | who'd watched as he fought | |
that strong as ice | he stood his ground - | |
a frozen mountain - | a frigid beorg | |
of stone and snow - | and still we are so named. |