Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.

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The Power of the Runes.

 

Óooooðin looked down from his great stone slab and he saw Mimir. Mimir the head was guarding his pool. I must seek out the power of this pool thought Óooooðin.

He knelt. What is this place? He asked. The drugged herbal head of Mimir it mumbled. It took many attempts until Óooooðin understood him and making his hands like a cup went to drink there. There is a cost was the mumble from Mimir and it was a terrible cost that we now know Óooooðin by. He must pluck out an eye. So One-eye was wise. Now he knew everything, was all wise and all powerful this was his reaction to his mind being so full and in tune.

 

No wait murmured Mimir you have not got a rune. You will be needing these song things, the runes of the underworld. Down where witches are shaman-like living an undeath. Buried among them is the rune power you need. As Óooooðin he requested how best to procure them Mimir murmured that you have to be dead.

Nine nights long Óooooðin hung from a tree with his head down, a spear in his side caused a dread wound and his life force unwound. He was dead. With the wisdom of the immortals he dream-like reached forward and from the magic women of the underworld he snatched out the rune power. Then he came back alive again. To Asgard he returned with all of the power he had. Now he really was a God.

 

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #1 Thor

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #2 Earth

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #3 Night

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #4 Augelmir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #5 Heimdall

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #6 Eir

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #7 Vili

Norse Gods and Goddesse Prose Poems – #8 Ve

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #9 Siv

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #10 Hænir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #11 Frejya

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #12 the Hyndla Lay

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #13 Freyr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #14 All for the Love of Gerd

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #15 Skaði

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #16 Njörð

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #17 Frigg

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 BalderNorse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 Balder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #22 Sól

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #23 Máni

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #24 Rán

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #25 Hel

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #26 Óðin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #27 Huggin and Munin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #28 Loki’s Salmon

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #29 Loki

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #30 Loki’s Monsters

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #36 The Poetry Mead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir

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runes

 

 

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Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

mimir.jpg

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.

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Mimir

 

Herb-head Mimir. Wisest of all but one he is just a head, he didn’t see that coming. His final duty before Sun rises on a new world will be, “Óðin, go out there and die.” For now, the platter-sitter appears whole in your mind and he can read you like a nursery rhyme. Raise his glass for him

Mimir’s Blame

 

If the old gods wish wisdom

Then send them Mimir

He is wise and ancient

He is the guardian

All wisdom springs from his spring

Forming a pool for his guardianship

 

So it was he was sent to the Vanir

He and handsome Hænir

Counter hostages to the Njord clan

Mimir was the wisdom man

 

He stood at Hænir’s right hand

He advised the less intelligent man

Who got the blame

For the irritation?

Mimir

 

Power to Please

 

It could be he had left briefly

To attend to his pool

The axe that was intended

For the head of the handsome one

Swing at him on return

He walked into that one

 

He walked no more anywhere

His head it was sent

Perhaps Gullvieg flew with it

Óðin received it

 

Oh how the All-father lamented

The head cradled close

He wailed out

He wailed out the old songs

The wise songs

The nurturing ones

Bathing the head in a herbal secret

He sang from the runes and the old songs

 

The dead shall have the power of speech

This one

The power to please

With his wisdom

 

Mimir’s Pool

 

Mimir is sat by his pool

Mimir the guardian

Mimir the head

 

Under the root of Yggdrasill

In Jotenheim

Is the Spring of Mimir

Near frost giants

It bubbles and pool forms

Heimdall leaves his horn there.

At the cost of an eye

To the one who paid high

All wisdom it pools here

 

At Ragnarok

Which his wisdom will survive

He benefits Óðin

With his last advice

“Óðin,

Go out there and die”

 

Mimir is sat by his pool

Mimir the guardian

Mimir the head

 

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #1 Thor

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #2 Earth

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #3 Night

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #4 Augelmir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #5 Heimdall

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #6 Eir

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #7 Vili

Norse Gods and Goddesse Prose Poems – #8 Ve

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #9 Siv

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #10 Hænir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #11 Frejya

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #12 the Hyndla Lay

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #13 Freyr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #14 All for the Love of Gerd

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #15 Skaði

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #16 Njörð

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #17 Frigg

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 BalderNorse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 Balder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #22 Sól

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #23 Máni

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #24 Rán

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #25 Hel

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #26 Óðin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #27 Huggin and Munin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #28 Loki’s Salmon

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #29 Loki

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #30 Loki’s Monsters

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #36 The Poetry Mead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir

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Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.

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Wisdom Pool Wonder

 

How the guardian of the pool of wisdom could become just a head.

They spat. The gods spat. They spat in a barrel. An oath of peace *spit spit spit*

And they traded gods

Óooooðin was most unhappy to receive old Njord and his unholy offspring. Hoenir would be a good swap as he was a real God, strong and brave, that is what they needed. Ah, If they like wise old men, they can have Mimir, he can mumble for them.

It worked. When they were together, for Mimir would mumble into Hoenir’s ear.

But it all went wrong. Mimir went away to tend his magical spring from where all wisdom flowed.

Mimir Was Away

 

While he was away, we can imagine it went something like this; “A farmer is praying to us he would like more apples?”

“Slice him through with an axe like chopping a tree ho ho ho ho.”

“Sailors are praying for a safe journey.”

“Throw a big boulder into their ship to give them something to worry about hahahaha”

They were enraged, a sword blade sliced at Hoenir’s neck. Mimir came back. The blade went right through him. Plop.

“Oh I’ve got his head, I better take it back.”

Mimir’s Head

 

Óðin cradled the head of the ancient one and sang sad ancient songs. He preserved the head in herbal balm and sang and sang.

A mumbled voice joined in. Mimir was back. Well just his head, his wise old head.

 Odin Power

 

Óooooðin looked around at his great city of Asgard and his great and powerful gods. “I shall seek out magic. I will find ancient powers. I will gather great wisdom and knowledge. And then I truly will be a god. The greatest of all the gods. The All-Father God.”

 

 

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #1 Thor

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #2 Earth

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #3 Night

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #4 Augelmir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #5 Heimdall

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #6 Eir

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #7 Vili

Norse Gods and Goddesse Prose Poems – #8 Ve

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #9 Siv

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #10 Hænir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #11 Frejya

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #12 the Hyndla Lay

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #13 Freyr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #14 All for the Love of Gerd

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #15 Skaði

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #16 Njörð

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #17 Frigg

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 BalderNorse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 Balder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #22 Sól

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #23 Máni

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #24 Rán

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #25 Hel

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #26 Odin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #27 Huggin and Munin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #28 Loki’s Salmon

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #29 Loki

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #30 Loki’s Monsters

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #36 The Poetry Mead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir

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wisdom pool wonder.jpg

 

My Gudvangen Dream Life as a Viking – Dream-time III

My Gudvangen Dream Life as a Viking – Dream-time III

I am already there, stood between Patrick and Bjork-Mari, in Njardarheimr in Freyr-Anders’ Gudvangen Village of the Vikings. I am there in my heart. I am already there and in this dream.

My Gudvangen Dream Life III sees me already in the Viking-style life ahead of me in Gudvangen where I will be living (and blogging) as Skald to the Viking Chieftain in Njardarheimr Viking Town in Norway. Stay in place as followers to know what happens next; beware, nothing is made up, yet most of this is dream.

NB The fictitious names are taken from those I have known but the characters added to them are based on other people I know.

PS The innocent will be protected until the group decides upon going to war. (The time is now.)

PPS You can become part of this by sending me thoughts and ideas adrianspendlow @ gmail.com or by commenting below (as if you were there).

Strongly recommended: Start with Viking-dream I and Viking-dream II

 

Dream-time III

In the mist-morning when the thumps of white are so dramatic forming shapes balanced in the air; blink and the solid realness of it is, over there. It was here. It was this shape. It is, *blink*, up the mountain, down the path, here in the garden.

001

It is morning I think.

I still hear trees creak. Waterfalls thrum. Even shadows cast an echo.

And this is war. Today we shall go to war.

We wake for war.

The thick lamb broth of the yesterday is still warm we won through there.002

Breakfast is thick and fast and hot. The breath steams.

We don’t wish to have to tell you how to feel but a raven flies in.

Siw-Alfadis thinks they see a raven out to sea coming this way.

“It can’t be a raven,” says Olafr-Andreas, “that’s an omen”.

“And a myth,” rejoins Blathnaid-Brigid.

“Do not say Odin’s ravens are a myth,” gleams Siw-Alfadis, “for the two ravens watch us”.

“Not the two ravens,” recounters the Irish born maiden, “the three”.

“The three, the three, the holy three,” dances Janne-Annhja.

“We are before your holy ghost and the Draugen still climb from the sea in fear of Ran and her nine waves,” Bjork-Mari leans seriously forward fixing the eye.

“It is the nine,” intones Siw-Alfadis.

“The nine,” is the stern echo from Teresa-Linn.

“The nine,” we all confirm in solemn depth.

“The nine!” a thin voice cries, and a nine-pointed star shoots from the hand of Bjorn-Ole into a doll hung upon our sacred dressed tree.006

We all laugh at the leap and throw, of the far-travelled adopted one who took a name and life in service, “Nine not three”.

“Two not three for that is the number of the ravens,” claims Blathnaid-Brigid, “The stories they tell us of the ravens”.

“I know of the three ravens for I am from the new lands where they still tell the old tales.”004.jpg Johnson doesn’t rise for his scraping-sheet is upon his knee and the sharps hurt the feet of the one to follow there where they fall.005

“Wise is the chap who cages three ravens. For such a karr will have their guidance. When one has sailed beyond the fjords and heads out south…”

“No, no, one should never leave the fjords”, proclaims Tor-Gunlodd, “Yes, I know Bjorn-Ole is from far away but that was over land; I know Blathnaid-Brigid is across the seas, but surely just in sight and not that far, for all she is a Celt.

“There are lands a year from here and many drown who seek to come from there and many more who seek to leave here,” insists Johnson.007

“To be sure you are all wrong, wrong for there are words of marvellous lands far far beyond the lands of my home, beyond the green. Magical lands we can never enter at all at all at all”.

“Stop it now Patrick,” laughs Teresa-Linn.

“Enchanted isle beyond enchanted isle forever ever ever on.”

“You stop it too Blathnaid-Brigid,” scolds Freyr-Anders with a smile, “Well just for now sweet wild thing. Let us hear of the ravens of Jorvik”.

“Not of my lands at all,” says Johnson.

“Not at all at all at all at all,” chips in Patrick.

“Stop it I said,” laughs our Chieftain.

“Not of my lands, not of the lands of ice, or the further lands of ice which lie to us by saying they are green.”

“Send you poor farmers to Ireland and you rich sons to Jorvik we know we know we know,” says Patrick.

“No there are further lands.”

The circle hush.

“How dare one say such a thing,” queries Frode-T’or.

“There are the old tales,” whispers Tone-Irene.

“They sailed,” says Johnson, “or so it says, the word. Take three land birds of the feather dark with you and guard them well. After a few days let one go. It will wing back to where you came from and you know you will still have far to go.

Let out the second later and there is still no land, it circles. You know you have come so far. It settles on the mast. There is no land for it to fly to. A few days of hopeful sailing later you let go the third. Oh how we rejoice, it flies forward. It smells the land, a new land and new place, a new found land”.008.jpg

“This is where I say the tales are wrong, you don’t need three,” stands Blathnaid-Brigid, “The one on the mast would smell the land ahead and fly forward. All you had to do was feed it now and then, to keep up its energy, and it would fly. You don’t need the third”.

“So it is all stories,” wonders Leif-Lasse.

A raven lands at their feet.

Siw-Alfadis looks down with a slight tremor of the face, “Methinks this was the blink of dark of shadowed sky I spied a while back flying in, it traversed the walls of high stone over fjord waters and I say it came from sea; it is an omen.” She turns to look at us.

“A warning,” agrees a serious-faced Bjork-Mari.

“The enemy are coming,” resolutely Frode-T’or states.

“See how it pecks of the remains of another bird which died, the entrails of a smaller thing are no longer on the wing yet take shape,” says fixated Siw-Alfadis.

“Ooooooh, oooooh,” shamanic-like Linnea-Ingeborg foresees, “Raven is a warning as it flicks at guts of littler dead thing. It says they, the unknown, sail this way”.

“The enemy,” repeats Bork-Mari.

“Yes, yes, yes – Prepare for war!” cries Lars-Eirik.

“Visitors come, stands Freyr-Anders, “it is true, but from within the lands they come to see. To see how we live and eat and fayre.”

023

“Then let us go about our lives,” says Brinhild as she starts to walk.

The sweat lodge beckons.010.jpg

“I have kept great stones hot,” quiet Kjell-Toffe guides.

Clothes are falling as we walk behind him.

Behind the blacksmith’s near lowered bathing bank an entrance beckons. Before this leathered structure a fire; it burns long and slow and all since yesterday. Broad, lasting, logs, so slow are cossetting the dampened stones. Huge stones. They are dry now, hot, extremely hot; long strong poles await.

We do not follow commands from Krell-Toffe, in words; in strong actions, he leads, we follow. An arm jerks here, and stern look there, we follow. Grasping those poles and as with his poised strength we bolster, lean and slowly keen the stone from burn. They roll at last the stones. Bigger than a sheep, heavier that our heaviest man. Kjell-Toffe heaves now and we follow lead. The stones lead on and roll into the delve, they roll right within the lodge.

We dug here, set stakes around the shape of egg and laid damp wood shapes around the curve. The bending of the stakes a roof formed to leather clad. A carving of the centre forms a station for the in-rolling stones. They roll there now.

We are naked and we form a shape of egg around as we sit. The stakes above are clothed. The tent hut of skins surrounds and darkens. A leather kettle is dipped into and a churn of water dampened stones.011.jpg The effect is immense. We are bathed. We are boiled. We are cleaned. We are naked. We are babes. We are calmed and quietened.

Gradually we share out quiet thoughts.

“So when the war comes, who will wield what? Wonders Frode-T’or.

By we leave we are battle ready.

The visitor they did come.

They sit upon banks and await amusement.

“Welcome but stay safe,” in our language and their own calls the statuesque Tone-Irene.

“Yes stay back and stay safe,” repeats Bjorn-Ole in our words and then in his mother tongue, “for one of you could be my mother”

Youths and maidens refresh them.

Our great chieftain Freyr-Anders seeks to quieten them. They see. They see into his beautiful dark eyes, he raises an arm. Then. Upon his hand lands. A raven. 003

From the sea another one. We turn to run.

We turn to run for arms.

021

For look, see sails.

They are close. The harbour they can have. Too late to set the fire lines. The harbour they can have. Their ships can land.

Those who ran far and fast now return with arms.

We stand between the boat houses, between the high fences.

022

Bjorn-Ole the far-child trade-swap from a land of silk he says he is not of the size to wield a shield or long long spear; as they near he lifts his chosen weapon from his ancestry, a slender spear-shaft he has crafted to a slim long curve-sided blade. “Stand in your lines, with this I raise.”

020

“I too have slashing blade,” our chieftain proclaims, and it is raised. “From a king of long gone.

019.jpg

This is my king blade, but I will take a shield.” A shield so large it rests upon the floor, he reaches over, wielding slashing blade and hopes for war.

Upon his head the helm of boar.

A wildness over comes us.

“Take up your stand of arms and form a line,” he commands.

Johnson of the madness still has no clothes. He takes a shield and axe and says his head is dead and he will surely soon be, “Let it be a glory morning”. His skin is blue.

Nils-Harold wears fur, I need no shield but I will bare upon command. “With this blue board and this sharp steal I stand here. Rooooar!”

Brinhild will not stand with shield. “And I too frail,” states Ingerlill-Nairaa, “so we will stand at spear”.

“I stand nearer,” cries the tall strong blond Tone-Irene and takes a shield and large axe.

017

Thirteen stand at front; fifteen behind.

Axe and flat of sword are banged at shield, “Ooooodin”. Feet are stamped in surety, “Ooooodin”.

“Come on invaders.”

“Come on in, if you can.”

Bang bang – Bang bang.

They land, unboard, do not take a charging course.

They disembark some more.

“They, have horses,” spies Inga-Idunn.

Mounting now they ride this way.

Behind us children cry.

Smokes fly wisping hints of home at us.

We are firm and fierce and yet afeared.

“We die today!”

“Yaaaaaaaay!”

“Oh Yaaaay!”

Tone-Irene, Lars-Eirik, Kjell-Toffe, Siw-Alfadis, Olafr-Andreas, Patrick, Lief-Lasse and Nils-Harold form to either side of the chieftain; his wall of blonde strength. Fire and raven-haired fill the ends.

Behind them fourteen take up long spear, they raise, they place a foot upon the base and lower slowly to shield bearer’s free shoulder.

016.jpg

Man and horse is each like a single monstrous beast, long shining claw of steel once waved is set back in sheath. As they ride a bow is lifted from side. They charge up close.

The long spears run in until each wielder is right behind their shield-bearer.

The horsemen stop just short of spear heads; their arrows fly.

Beaded jewellery shatters as Inga-Idun drops stiffly backward, Kjell-Toffe screams as chain links of shoulder shred and redden, and in the centre, the dead centre, an armour piecing arrow splits the largest shield and chieftain cries; pinned to shield and propped there while a pool forms round his boots.

His shield wall freezes in dread and are falsely cheered, are fooled enough to rally, by, the dying words of Freyr-Anders, “We stand and fight”.

The enemy reach for a second arrow. A stone is hurled, the central rider is now faceless under helm.

As Bjorn-Ole switches back to his curved blade-stick rest of riders turn and flee.

Only to re-group, draw hand weapons and charge.

Long spears laying flat to the ground, as the horses near are suddenly raised.

They stop in time, all but one. Tove-Maria hits home., the rider dies, the horse twists. Tove-Marie sets both feet but she is dragged, gripping every slip. She is through her fellow fighter’s wall and in the middle of the field.

015.jpg

At last she lets go as a dozen arrows fill her young frame.

They turn and ride upon us once again. As spears raise you can see they pull back; a false charge: except for two they increase in speed – an axe in one hand a smaller axe in the other. The long spears stop their beasts the riders release. Dead horses stop in their tracks, riders fly on. Through the air they go, swinging down with their axes, hitting shield tops as they arc down. Two shields, one on each side of the chieftain, are pulled forward and two of us are now bereft of shield. These two of us are crushed by flying warrior; Siw-Alfadis and Lars-Eirik are broken.

014

As one axe -man swings into the thigh of Janne-Annhja, Bjorn-Ole pierces him with his slashing stick. Janne-Annhja, close to death, snatches the curved sword of her up-propped chieftain. Freyr-Anders, (thus realising he is dead and held in place by arrow through shield), and in the moment of her own dying kills the second axe-man; she has time for last words, “Our chieftain…..”

Two figures dash screaming through the shield wall, one naked-blue one draped in furs, out into the field; Nils-Harold and The Johnson pull down three from horse back to kill them before being stripped of life themselves.

018

Jan-Robert and Brinhild take up fallen shields; the wall still full. They may not hold for long the full charge is racing in. Our six remaining spears are raised, and hit! Each has boot against the base and their long spears as levers lift the enemy to the sky.

A heavy screech of noise and impossible flight of thrashing limbs hovers momentarily, for the soon to die below – it darkens.

024

The many are dead, it is like a new dawn for the stunned laid around, then one horse pitifully tries to rise.

All remaining horses run, in search of goat path, a few take riders with them.

012

Two are sliced into by high leap from silk-road child Bjorn-Ole before another makes him into two.

025

Patrick lifts his defence rune shield, “A last stance.”013

Linnea-Ingaborg runs, “Come run.” Ingerlill-Nairaa follows her.

When Bjork-Mari sees they run to the fire she understands and follows too.

Not the youngest of our fighters survive, but the biggest, strongest, most experienced do; Kjell-Toffe, Olafr-Andreas and Loke-Daan run to Patrick’s call and in a circle facing outwards with two weapons each foresee one last fight.

Bjork-Mari follows the lead of the other women by taking up a firebrand; she runs after Linnea-Ingaborg to stand on harbour, torches high.

The last mob of axe men angered, mad, encircle our small group and weapons clash.

Three torches high, “Leave us with no further fight or see ships burn”.

026

“Fight on, fight on!”

Ingerlill-Nairaa leads the women now, “Then let this burn”. Torches tip into the nearest ship as warrior smites at warrior.

The ship bursts faster, higher, than expected igniting our unused defence; the fire-lines. The harbour burns.

028

Three women aflame are falling, screaming, drowning, gone.

027

The flames race on, backwards to the way of their plan. Right back to boat houses bursting everything in flames. The boat house each, the warring parties each in one mad burn.

All are dead, the city falls. Nothing is left. Amid the blackened field the figure of the dead chieftain grimly stands.

All are dead, the end. Dream-time recollections end.

And in the sweat-lodge I, Add-ri-An, awakens. Gentle noises all around. I run out of the hot dark to look upon the field of death.

Within this dream the tourists on the bank stare on, awaiting spectacle. The boathouses and the harbour pristine stand.

Snoring from behind me makes me realise my comrades slumber on, and it is all a dream – a dream within a dream.

A raven lands.

The chieftain joins me and raises arm, a second raven lands upon his hand.

“An omen,” Siw-Alfadis joins them.

“The enemy,” calls Bjork-Mari.

There in sight on fjord water sail in ships; the ships of war are coming here.

The wild blonde shield wall forms, the sides are filled. The long spears lay upon their shoulders.

From the ships come foreign axe men, they lead off horses. They mount and form a massing line.

Our chieftain steps forward to the centre of our shield wall to address one and all, perhaps for one last time, “I, Freyr-Anders, chieftain of Gudvangen,” he raises his sharp curved sword, “I bid you,” we all can see the shine in those darkly commanding eyes, “Welcome! Welcome, welcome, welcome.”

029

How the horse men laugh and ride about us grasping raised arm after raised arm as they slowly pass. Kjell-Toffe and Inga-Idun are each clasped by arm by riders, who firmly grip and swing. Then suddenly their two lead figures have a standing friend upon the horse with them. Kjell-Toffe and Inga-Idun arms in air stand as their mounts encircle, echoing words of our great chieftain, “Welcome, welcome.”

 

Viking-dream I and Viking-dream II

 

(and here is the Ghost walks of York series)

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.

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Iðun’s Apples

 

“Let us have another adventure!” “Let’s be humans again and travel off away in Midgard.” Oðin and Hænir readily agreed and off they went. Again as it was with Oðin he was shocked to feel the pain of hunger and wondered what could be done. “If you light a fire I will soon return with food, Hænir come with me,” called Loki.

When they returned Hænir was struggling to carry a huge Oxen. Oðin placed it upon a spit and they sat and watched it cook. They sat and watched it cook. They sat and watched it cook. “It isn’t cooking” “It is just as raw as it was before.”

“Something is working against us.”

“Something up here.”

Above upon a branch sits a great eagle, far too big to be believed.

“Let me eat my fill and all the meat will be cooked.”

As soon as they agreed the eagle swooped and took the lot.

Loki was enraged and leapt upon the huge creature with a great branch to strike upon its back. The branch struck, it stuck in his hand, the eagle flew, he took Loki hanging behind. How Loki squealed. The eagle gave him quite a ride, dragging him through tree tops. Scraping him along the ground. Across the glacier. Till Loki wild with agony had hardly any skin upon his back and knees. ”You will help me or I will not let you go.” “I promise; I will do anything.” “Bring me the beautiful Iðun and her powerful apples.” “This I cannot do.” The eagle dragged him over rocks, over glacier, through the trees, the rocky ground. “I will do anything. I will do this thing you ask. I promise.”

Within the week the orchard garden had a visitor. “Iðun, beautiful, Iðun you would never believe what I have seen. Come with me, come with me. Golden apples just like these. Golden apples on a tree. Ooooo bring these.” So Iðun went with him. The eagle swooped and had her. Took her with her apples to his immense castle. Yes this was Thiazi, mighty giant.

 

Oh how the Gods would suffer. In no time at all they crumbled, bumbled, mumbled, stumbled. Muttering they cluttered up the place in their old age. As memory faded Oðin wondered who it was who was missing.

Someone remembered the beauty of Iðun.

Someone remembered the beauty of Frejya, “She has gone.”

“No I am here,” said a bald old lady in the corner.

“There was another one though. A trickster one.” “Where is he?”

They found Loki, found him sleeping, tied him, bound him. “Bring her back to us!” Frejya stripped off her gown of feathers, “Fly as falcon Trickster One, and bring her back to us.” It was easy, Thiazi and his daughter Skaði had gone fishing. He landed, cast a spell and Iðun was a nut. He popped her in his pocket. Put on his feathers and flew away safely. No. Thiazi came back. It is a long long way to Asgard and Eagles are faster than Falcon. Thank the gods for ravens, Oðin’s ravens saw and warned and all the gods build pyres of firewood. As Loki flew over and in the gods lit fires, bursting flames on the monstrous Giant in his eagle form. He fell down and stumbling old gods they fell upon.

Oh how they laughed to see Iðun back and handing round her apples.

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #1 Thor

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #2 Earth

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #3 Night

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #4 Augelmir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #5 Heimdall

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #6 Eir

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #7 Vili

Norse Gods and Goddesse Prose Poems – #8 Ve

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #9 Siv

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #10 Hænir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #11 Frejya

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #12 the Hyndla Lay

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #13 Freyr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #14 All for the Love of Gerd

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #15 Skaði

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #16 Njörð

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #17 Frigg

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 BalderNorse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 Balder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #22 Sól

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #23 Máni

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #24 Rán

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #25 Hel

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #26 Óðin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #27 Huggin and Munin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #28 Loki’s Salmon

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #29 Loki

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #30 Loki’s Monsters

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #36 The Poetry Mead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir

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apples

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.

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Iðun

 

Worth wanting. Want Iðun. Be born again. Her lover, her child, her follower. Go hope Apple-biter, be the Epli of her eye, you would shrivel without her.

 

She is carefree as the sun softly caresses her, wondering and pottering upon the garden slopes above her hall. Here she has her orchard. Many fruits and flowering things, powerful herbs, much grows in her garden here, you might wish for if you thought of her. This is the orchard however. This is the place of forever. She is the custodian of the golden. The golden apples of youth flourish within here.

Bragi has many lifetimes to compose poetry because of her. Her apple lovers last forever. Her husband rejoices to know her forever.

Just think of the power she can bring here. Fertility, prosperity, immortality in memory and fame can be claimed by the truthful who adore her. Skip now and laugh for she is here with you.

 

Be glad of her basket, be glad of her gladness and wellness and life. Go live at the very thought of her. Have hapless happy adventures. Be trusting as she is. For tricksters may make Gods fail and grow old. They may fool us the mortals, but vitality and youthful beauty will return to us eventually. Be trusting, be faithful to thoughts of joy. The open heart of youth cannot be downtrodden for long.

As with the Hesperides she is there for us there is reincarnation of spirit if we wish it, youthfulness and fertile vigour. Go dance with her. She made all the Gods glad. Brought them life and again life. All is afresh when she dances here.

Think of her as you garden. Think of her as you love.

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #1 Thor

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #2 Earth

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #3 Night

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #4 Augelmir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #5 Heimdall

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #6 Eir

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #7 Vili

Norse Gods and Goddesse Prose Poems – #8 Ve

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #9 Siv

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #10 Hænir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #11 Frejya

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #12 the Hyndla Lay

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #13 Freyr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #14 All for the Love of Gerd

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #15 Skaði

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #16 Njörð

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #17 Frigg

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 BalderNorse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 Balder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #22 Sól

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #23 Máni

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #24 Rán

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #25 Hel

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #26 Óðin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #27 Huggin and Munin

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #28 Loki’s Salmon

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #29 Loki

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #30 Loki’s Monsters

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #36 The Poetry Mead

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir

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idunn.jpg

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Then Balder Was Dead

A stunning new approach to the myths the Vikings loved; enlightening and challenging for the novice and veteran alike.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Nordic Mythos Prose Poems were created following research for Gods Bless Ya!! Rock Opera with Alda and Sigrun Bjork Olafsdottir and a forth-coming book with SigRun Viking Art & Design.

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Then Balder Was Dead

 

 

Deathly dreams of dying invaded. The perfect bliss of being Balder was disrupted. Family and loved ones doubted, feared. Nothing of such should be possible. Golden-God Balder brought peace and resolution to everything. Now, he was dying. Every night in a dream he went falling. Forever into nothing. Deepest darkness was predicted for him. This constant dream.

 

 

Conference at the Well of Urd, and then Mimir conferred. This must be acted upon. Gods don’t dream of dying, especially this one. Sleipnir was mounted, the All-father of all must find out for his fair son. Long was the ride. Round the great tree, down the root stem, across chasms, over bridges, through fire and over iceways. Long was the journey and dark was the guarded place. Deep. Ahead on the very floor was death. Odin sang, ancient runes of calling and binding and talking beyond death. Fearful being she was living, here now she was rotten, all over rotten twice as bad as her Queen here. Hel spawn was an old witch, mother of monsters. Mother of Hel herself here in the Hel realm she was born from. Dead in the place that her daughter was cast out to. Now convinced to rise again temporarily and speak though her voice be croaked; quite broken.

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #19

 

Who was this calling her, no she knew, she knew with one look it was the God of all the Gods, the God who had cast her daughter here. He who had created this death world and brought it a Queen. He had disturbed her slumbers. He now demanded of her, much as she willed to resist she could not. His was to command, and hers was to sing. To sing a broken song of foretelling for him. She was glad to, for her answer was wonderfully dark and depressing, nothing could be wished for to be better to say. Odin, it is your son who is dying, there is nothing you can do to sway. Dead he is already, as good as dead now.

 

 

What is there that can stop him. Nothing. Begone now. Let me slumber.

Long was the ride of returning. Heavy the heart. Horrible the recounting of it upon return. Frigg would have none of this. This was her son. The most loved of all the Gods. Despair was everywhere and it was now down to her.

Everywhere she rode and she spoke to all manner of things. She spoke to everything. Fire and ice and rock-fall and treacherous footing. She spoke to poisons and diseases and creatures of all kinds. She spoke to everything. Everything. She could think of so many things and each of them she visited.

Nothing would harm him.

Every single element had promised her this. They cannot harm Balder. Everything she spoke to. Balder was safe and the witch’s words of prophesy were dealt with.

 

 

The once mischievous one who had turned in the heart to be hurtful had heard of this and he wished to discover. He wished to play with fate. The fate of Balder himself to him was just a game.

What a game it was. If nothing could hurt him then anything could be done to him. Try this. Throw this. Think of things. Let us attack him. Balder himself was the centre of this and he had to admit nothing hurt him. The Gods thought of more things to hurt him with, nothing happened. Oh how they laughed as they attacked. Nothing could hurt him. Day after day they would play.

“No, nothing I can’t feel a thing.”

 

 

Presently an old lady wandered in, she didn’t mean to intrude on Frigg but she just happened to notice, just happened to wonder. They were stoning a man and he was just standing there with no apparent care.

No. This Wasn’t a stoning this was a game, because nothing could hurt him, she had asked everything. There was wonder at this and eventually an admission. The humble twisted weak mistletoe hadn’t been asked or even considered, for what harm could that do!

Loki could hardly contain his shape long enough to say thank you and potter out of there, nearly running as he did so, and changing his shape right around the corner from that of the old thing to him, now evil him.

If ever you wonder or sympathise.

Was he misunderstood?

Was he only really playful?

Did he not really realise?

Did others treat him unjustly?

This.

This was the thing.

When he rides into Ragnarok on a ship full of fire giants and the fetid one’s undead remember this factor.

He was the spoiler in this story spoiler.

Loki killed Balder.

 

 

He fashioned the mistletoe. He twisted and pointed it, with its weaving feathery wings for the flight. This is the poisoned thing. And this was the night.

Hod should not have died for this. We all know he did do. A child was born to rise up in a day and go kill him by nightfall and send him to Hel’s realm. Hod might be blind and Hod may have done the deed but his part wasn’t evil. His was an almost innocent act. He threw the dart.

He may have been fooled by Loki but kill him he did. Look Balder is dead. Dead.

Poison seeped from the weak dart and pulsed through his veins. The only thing not promising was killing him.

And Balder is dead.

Dead.

 

 

Falling and falling and leaving the forever realms to suffer in ever-ness under the foot of her who is half dead. The lady of death Hel herself she has him.

Oh his funeral was beautiful. With everyone there in their splendour. Thirty three maidens keened and tossed scarves high. The beautiful giant Hyrrokin rode in on her wolf clenching at vipers as reins. Mad berserkers came wrestling. Thor raged at the sight of her. In one form or another was Loki sat gloating. Happy to be there. Everyone there. Odin bent whispering. Skadi with Njord. Freyr there with Gerd. Freyja on her chariot. Everyone there. His horse died.

His wonderful Nanna was there. In her grief there. Briefly there. As Hyrrokin prepared to launch and the archers fired flame arrows, so Nanna his beloved stood. By the shore she stood, with everyone behind her unknowing of her thinking, not seeing the knife she had. She stood tall with tears down her soft cheeks staring out into the sea. Then she stabbed herself. “Balder I love you.” Stabbed her broken heart deep. Dying she fell as the arrows fell. Flames rose as she passed away. Dead she was in the pyre of her husband. Balder and Nanna. Balder and Nanna. Burning and falling.

 

 

Burning and falling together. Down, down, down to the land of the dead.

All was in gold. Even the mead was gold. The many dead in rows awaited, from the sorrowful new dead long back on rows to the long, long, gone crumbling ones who were barely a resemblance of the cowardly beings they had been. Misshapen lumps of dust looked at him. He and his wife would be like them. For this was the death place of Hel.

“He shall not be dead!” said his mother. She offered all of her love and favour for who would ride for her. Beg. It was all that was left to us. Begging. Begging with the dead. With the queen of the dead. Who will partake of this long ride? Hermod would, her son of so many names and great fame. He would ride. The long ride and he did.

 

 

There very faces turned to face him. One by one by long slow dead one the row upon row of the rotten and crumbling slowly turned to him. There at the head was the brother he loved and the wife he was with in love. Suffering, struggling, screaming silently relentlessly. They slow walked towards him, in funerial steps, carrying. Here is the linen for Mother-Goddess Frigg to wear as a remembrance, here is the gold ring of renewal back for Oðin to wear, here is all of the wonders we were gifted on the pyre of our byre. We are here and this is the now and the ever. There is nothing anyone can do for us except recall for us and live by our way.

No, he came not to say goodbye, the long ride, he rode the long ride. To speak to her who was awakening. Hel, Lady Hel herself let Hermod beg of you now. Let him return to us, with his beloved, let them return. For all are broken all of the beings and wonders and living things of all of the nine worlds are broken, heart-broken without him.

 

 

“Will they cry so?”

This was undoubtable, well if all of the beings and things, all of the creatures and growing things cry for him so shall they live again, so shall they live.

Oh Sleipnir is strong, for as soon as he returns from the long climb, the long flight that he rides round the worlds awaits him. Frigg rode him and they journeyed. They stopped and they shared the news of the death of the golden one. Oh how things sobbed, the sorrow was tangible, tears flowed like the torrents, worlds filled with crying and sorrow and remorse for the wonder that was Balder. Everything. Everyone one. It was as Hermod said. As Hell decreed. Everyone.

Except one.

 

 

 

There in a cave was an old hag of a giantess and she laughed. She didn’t care for that Balder. All begone now. She would not cry. All begone now, she wanted them out of there quickly for she could not contain herself longer. Could not maintain the form of deception which forbid her rejoicing. This was Loki. As soon as they were gone he was back in shape and laughing and laughing and laughing.

Balder was dead.

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #1 Thor

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #2 Earth

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #3 Night

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #4 Augelmir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #5 Heimdall

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #6 Eir

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #7 Vili

Norse Gods and Goddesse Prose Poems – #8 Ve

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #9 Siv

 Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #10 Hænir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #11 Frejya

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #12 the Hyndla Lay

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #13 Freyr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #14 All for the Love of Gerd

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #15 Skaði

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #16 Njörð

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #17 Frigg

Norse Gods and Goddess Prose Poems – #18 Balder

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #19 Then Balder Was Dead

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #20 Iðun

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #21 Iðun’s Apples

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #22 Sól

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #23 Máni

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #24 Rán

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #25 Hel

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #26 Óðin

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #27 Huggin and Munin

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #28 Loki’s Salmon

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #29 Loki

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #30 Loki’s Monsters

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #32 Lay of Hymir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #33 Wisdom Pool Wonder

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #34 Mimir

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #35 The Power of the Runes

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #36 The Poetry Mead

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #37 Kvasir

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balder dead.jpg