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

 

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

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 Poetry Mead

 

He was suddenly there, impossibly close, the handsome stranger. In his long blue cloak and wide-brimmed hat; he seemed somehow too big for his skin, and he loomed over the workers of the farm. They should not have looked in his eye, for they were drawn in, to fall among the worlds. Swirling wildly among the nine known worlds and all the unknown worlds as well, they could see and hear everything, and presently they came to hear their own inner voices; each other’s thoughts … “I’ve never liked you.” “You treat me badly.” “I work harder than you.” There should be less reward for you.” “I quite like your wife.”

The scythes were out, they fell upon each other in rage, and presently all were dead.

 

The stranger turned towards the farm, “You suddenly seem to be short of workers.”

“Yes I do.”

“I shall work your farm for you, and all I wish in return is some small piece of information.”

The work was done in no time. The fields tilled. The seeds in. The plants they grew and were harvested. In an impossible time, the barns were fuller than they’d ever been.

“All I wish in return is to know where your brother keeps his treasure.”

“I could not possibly tell you, I have promised.”

“You have promised me, and all you have to do is point to the place.”

They climbed the hill and peered down at a wide stone plain. He pointed.

 

The stranger went to the place and called down lightning. It cut and turned and wound and burned. Down to a cavern miles beneath the earth. In this dark cave with no entrance and no exit sat Suttungs daughter. She sat there long, without even a mirror to know that she was beautiful.

The handsome stranger turned himself into a serpent and twisted his long way down the deep burrow to appear far below suddenly in his handsome robes. A torch appeared already light, “Oh you are beautiful, more beautiful than any other woman ever seen. I love you and I wish for you to come with me. All I wish in return is one small sip of your father’s treasure; the poetry mead.”

 

“I couldn’t possibly, I have promised, and my father would beat me terribly.”

“Yet you shall come with me and be my bride. You shall be my queen in my great citadel in the sky. In love forever. Just one small sip.”

She slowly, tentatively, pushed the three barrels forward. He took it all, wrapped it in his cloak, turned back into the serpent and left her alone.

The figure that now flew up to Asgard had the power of the mead; one sip would let your words cause love or war.

 

Yet deep below the earth in a cavern with no entrance and no exit, without even a mirror to know she was beautiful, Suttung’s daughter Gunnlodd sat alone. She cared not of the endless beatings she would receive; because Gunnlodd was broken.

 

 

 

 

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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mead

 

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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

 

 

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

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

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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Lay of Hymir

 

Celebrating, commiserating, unifying, wedding, blessing, mourning, peace-making, marking, recovering, suffering, winning, losing, drawing there are many reasons for drinking and drinking is a thing that they do, do gods. Being a God is a reason for drinking and there had been so many reasons as of lately. There was no drink now. This was a first for the gods, something new. Something not good at all to endure, especially if there might be a few hours of it. This was something to drink to commiserate in fact, if there had been any drink to be drinking with, but there wasn’t any; no ale, no wine, no porter, no mead, no nothing to be drinking with.

 

Thor was especially upset. Upset for the others he said, but he was definitely turning red; redder than to be expected even when drink-filled. This was anger, desperate anger and he had an idea. To go to Aegir who always had beer. All of the Gods would be following and then all of them would be getting together on his call and would be drinking, drinking. Tyr went with him.

They went to Aegir’s hall beneath Hlesey over by Rocking Oceans deep beneath they went and to Aegir they went.

 

The dipped blood of the small animal swiftly killed had splattered to send them here, rune-shine in moonshine had told them of Aegir.

We have food, food a plenty, they said, feasts of it, but with nothing to drink with it they choked on it, it all is so dry on the throat without ale with it. All the Gods know this.

These feasts they could bring to him. Share with him, all of the Gods.

 

He had sent all his beer and all of the Gods and the Goddesses together was quite a lot. Not to mention they drink a lot. What, could they brew it in? Nothing would hold enough, quick enough, big enough.

There was a look in the eye of the Thunder God that would cause all of a serpent hoard to quail and subside. Aegir had been eyed. The hammer was thrumming, the whetstone was sparking, the shackles were rising; Aegir nearly blinded.

Tyr had an idea, it was his turn now. For long ago far away father the giant Hymer he had a cauldron that brewed beer. It was the biggest thing a God could imagine and Gods could imagine quite well. It was miles deep, we shall fetch it. Well said Aegir now, if you fetch it I shall brew in it. This was expected and recollected as they went for it.

 

Far over lands and seas did they travel. Away to the east, beyond the stormy waves of the Elivagar; eleven rivers of oceans of rocking wild waters.

One-hand as they travelled explained that his father the giant grisly Hymir had a cauldron that would do the trick, five miles deep it was but we already knew that so conversation was limited until they were nearer.

At Egil’s farm the goats were left and at last in search of the Water Whirler they spied now a mountain stood close to the sea.

Tyr now had a warning to give of how they might meet his grandmother, she who had heads a plenty, really too many and even Thor might be wary of all nine hundred of her heads, this is what was said.

In they sped anyway and if Thor had a slight tremble it was best not to mention and there in the halls there were many a fine cauldron. Stairs could be heard thundering plenty soon the door would be opening. Nine-Hundred-Head would be biting them dead.

 

Backing up smartly the two gods were a tight knit party and they headed without looking right into a shelf unit. There were the cauldrons the myriad cauldrons, buckets and barrels and boilers and brew bins, every one of them massive and of the thickest strong clay. They all were gigantic and stacked up to the back roof.

All of them tumbled as the shelving gave way. One and by one by one by one by one on down, down fell each cauldron, smashing on the heads they hit as they tumbled on two Gods below them. Banging and crashing and cracking and damaging.

Nothing was left of this selection of brewing items, and little was left of the senses and sensibility of these two, groggy to say the least. Then down fell the last. This was the daddy of the lot of them, it fell right onto them.

 

This was the actual cauldron, the actual one, this is the reason they had gone and it had just fell upon. It really did cover them They were in to depths of the bottom of a cauldron five miles deep and they howled with an echo that reached, well, everywhere actually, it far reached.

Then. There were footsteps, this was the Grandmother, nearing the cauldron, they quaked at the thought and were looking for somewhere bigger to hide. She was lifting it, steadily lifting, she knew what was inside.

 

It wasn’t the grandmother, it was the mother, they were looking right at her. She only had one head, had rather beautiful features, with a skin more wonderful than the whitest of flowers. This pale lady she laughed sweetly and welcomed Thor here with quite honeyed words.

Thor was all of a tremor. All she wore was golden and she was all of a glimmer. Necklaces, jewellery were all she had on her.

Even better, she had beer. She filled for them over and over great golden goblets brimming with beer. Good beer.

 

Then Hymer came home. He was here from his hunting and carried many dead trophies, with icicles all down his beard and his eyes filled with mist.

She sat them quickly behind an oak pillar so to introduce them slowly. She announced of their son being here and named his friend here as Veur. Hymir stared at them baleful, glared at them firefully and as his ice beard was melting the prop that hid them was smouldering. Above it was another shelf and as it gave way more cauldrons fell. One by one they all smashed on Thor’s head.

How Hymir laughed and called for three oxen. Thor he ate two with lots of beer then they all slept.

 

As Thor has such an appetite it was felt they must hunt. Fishing was the wish of them and Hymir sent him for bait. Off came the head of the best bull of the lot of them; Heaven Springer died with a snap of his horns as Thor took him for a lure.

Veur/Thor rowed far and Hymir pulled in two whales, then was matched by the catching of the biggest sea-serpent the huge winged beast Jormungand. It was wrestled by the one so strong and then flew from his hands.

Once they had rowed back to land Thor took the boat in hand and also the great whales and dragging them with the boat by their huge tails he went in for breakfast.

 

If you are so strong my friend then take this glass goblet and let it be wrenched apart. Thor took it and threw it, it bounced off a stone pillar and fell perfect to the floor there. How Hymir laughed, then his wife whispered (for she had a soft spot for Thor) to let his head be the target. That smashed it, Hymir Hard-head was hit upon head by the goblet and the glass smashed upon it much to his anger.

 

What is mine is yours he said as the strength of him left him, the power of the glass thing was what had held him, it, broken now, drained him he had to give in.

He gifted his last mighty cauldron and with it the brewing words. Tyr went to pick it up and with all of his one-hand strength he managed to wobble it while Thor tried and swing it up over his shoulder to perch there and he wandered. They left there. Left Hymir with his anger.

He could not just let them he sent a whole army after them, every one of the many-headed, the men who were monsters, the Giants of Hymir.

Thor saw them all coming and set too with Mjolnir one by one topping them, hitting head after head so before they were even near him the lot of them were dead.

There is more to this story but let us just finish with, the Gods had a great party.

 

 

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 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 Goddesses 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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lay of hymir.jpg

 

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #31 Týr

Norse Gods and Goddesses Prose Poems – #31 Týr

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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Týr      

 

Always God, never-changing North Star he who buys peace with a limb was all before and anew now. When worlds end remember his agonising hound-bitten death was for you. Thank Tyr for the beer barrel that made the party possible.

Of The Sky

 

Sky God, fostered of Óðin, born of giants; Tyr Hymirsson Óðinsson

Bringer of barrels

Self-sacrificial

Hand-loser

Bravest of the Warrior Gods

He keeps mortals safe

Fenrir-binder

He is of the twelve who sit with Óðin

Tyr is from the before

A Precursor

The Germanics called upon him in war

Thousands of year of a one-handed God

Tiwaz all encompasses

All worlds under one sky

Look for justice in his northern star

Come for him Tysdagr

Tyr means god

Look to the Old Norsemen

They called upon the Tivar;

The God

Skirnir brought him Gleipnir; dwarven ribbon

He who contained their fiercest enemy

Rising above hardship is expected of Vikings

We laugh at suffering and accept it as life

Look to Mirkwood for the coming of God-death

He who will die in the end at the teeth of Garm

 

 

 

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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hel

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)