Hrothgar & Hryllingur, Part IX

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Illustration from A book of myths (1915) New York : G. P. Putnam's sons; London, Helen Stratton, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Scourge of this fair hall,

A feared foe, forcing men to flee

When sun’s light fails. Resolved then I

To offer all I have: my strength

Against this enemy.

When high Harrën* heard

My wish, no word was spoken

Against my goal. I have battled

And bound beasts and brutes, blood

Shed on soil, spread in sea.

Hyrillingur, I glean'd,

Scorns shield or sword; so too would I

Meet the monster weaponless,

Hand to hand, only my war-band

Holding hard my back.”

Bjarndýr voice dropp’d low. 

“If victory is Hyrllingur’s

Weep for Heorot’s warriors, 

Flesh to feed the monster, my own

Body borne to his deep lair:

A day of darkest doom.

If this fate befalls, send my armour

God-forged, a generous gift,

Home to my lord, if any live.

The gods alone decide.”

*Harrën in my fictional world are landholders, lords who advise their ruler.

More next Thursday!

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