Buku Viking Poetry for Heathen Rites: Asatru Liturgy in Traditional Verse by Westcoat Eirik

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Viking Poetry for Heathen Rites: Asatru Liturgy in Traditional Verse by Westcoat Eirik

Author:Westcoat, Eirik [Westcoat, Eirik]

Language: eng

Format: azw

Tags: Religion & Spirituality

Publisher: Skaldic Eagle Press

Published: 2017-07-03T16:00:00+00:00

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Viking Poetry for Heathen Rites: Asatru Liturgy in Traditional Verse by Westcoat Eirik

The Creation of the Six Treasures

Roles

Narrator: 17.5 stanzas

 

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Viking Poetry for Heathen Rites: Asatru Liturgy in Traditional Verse by Westcoat Eirik

 

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Viking Poetry for Heathen Rites: Asatru Liturgy in Traditional Verse by Westcoat Eirik

Author:Westcoat, Eirik [Westcoat, Eirik] , Date: June 6, 2019

,Views: 23

Author:Westcoat, Eirik [Westcoat, Eirik]

Language: eng

Format: azw

Tags: Religion & Spirituality

Publisher: Skaldic Eagle Press

Published: 2017-07-03T16:00:00+00:00
The Creation of the Six Treasures

Roles

Narrator: 17.5 stanzas

Loki: 10 stanzas

Brokk: 7.5 stanzas

Eitri: 7.5 stanzas

Óðinn: 1.5 stanzas

Ívaldasynir: 1 stanza

Sif: 1 stanza

Thor: 0.5 stanzas

Narrator:

“Loving mischief,

Loki had cut

the golden hair

of glorious Sif.

Those strands he sheared,

no stubble remained;

that deed he did

in the dark of night.

When Sif had seen

herself next day,

she screamed and sobbed

and scurried to Thor.”

Sif:

“Oh Thor, my Thor,

my threads of flax

have all been shaved and sheared!

Loki’s scent

lingers nearby;

he must have played a part!”

Narrator:

“Thor went quickly

to threaten Loki

for his dastardly deed

with a doom of pain.”

Thor:

“Her locks you sheared;

your limbs I’ll smash

’til all your bones are broken!”

Loki:

“Spare me please!

I’ll speedily fix

the hurt and harm I’ve caused.

I’ll wend my way

to the world of Dwarves,

and hair of gold I’ll get.”

Narrator:

“The husband of Sif

harked to that offer,

allowing Loki

to leave and make good.

Down he wended

to Dark-Elf home

and entered the realm

of Ívaldi’s sons.”

Loki:

“I hail you all,

Ívaldi’s sons,

and ask a favor in frith.

Make good with the gods

and grant their request

for treasures finely forged:

Golden hair,

the greatest of ships,

and for Hropt a special spear.”

Ívaldasynir:

“We’ll gift the gods

to regain their favor,

by making the treasures tasked.

Our work is best

and one-of-a-kind;

far and wide it’s famed.”

Narrator:

“The smiths began,

the sons of Ívaldi:

from gold they wrought

the gleaming hairs.

The smiths continued,

the sons of Ívaldi:

they shaped with skill

the ship Skíðblaðnir.

The smiths finished,

the sons of Ívaldi:

grim was Gungnir,

the gar they forged.”

Loki:

“Well you’ve worked

these wonderful treasures;

they’ll greatly please the Powers.”

Narrator:

“Loki then left,

but lingered in Dwarf-home.

To the abode of Brokk

he brought the treasures.”

Loki:

“Hail Brokk, old chap,

be awed by the works

of Ívaldi’s excellent sons,

since Eitri can’t make

anything finer,

no matter the might he bears.”

Brokk:

“You’re surely wrong

on his shining craft

that’s unsurpassed and peerless.”

Loki:

“Let’s settle this now

through a serious wager

and gamble our heads on gifts.

Let the Aesir judge:

Óðinn jointly

with Thor, and Freyr as third.”

Brokk:

“I’ll take those terms.

His treasures will win,

and your head from neck be hewn.”

Narrator:

“Eager to off

the issue of Laufey,

those two brothers,

Brokk and Eitri,

began their works

of greatest craft;

the forge was kindled,

fiercely burning.”

Eitri:

“Brokk, my brother,

now blow steady,

as I bear this boar-skin to forge.

Continue on

until I have ended,

and out I’ve pulled that pig.”

Narrator:

“When Eitri went off

to create the treasure,

a fly appeared,

flitting about.

Onto his arm

it angled and bit,

but Brokk persisted,

blowing steadily.

The skin of swine

was skillfully forged

to a boar with bristles

of brightest gold.”

Eitri:

“Well done, brother,

is your work on the bellows;

with skill I’ve surely shaped.

The finest of boars

I’ve brought from the forge;

this gift is fit for Freyr.

Brokk my brother,

now blow steady;

to the forge I go with gold.

Continue on

until I have ended

and out I’ve taken the treasure.”

Narrator:

“When Eitri went off

to create the treasure,

the fly returned,

flitting about.

On his neck it landed

and nibbled harder.

but Brokk persisted,

blowing steadily.

With greater skill

that gold was forged

into a glorious ring

by the gifted smith.”

Eitri:

“Well done, brother,

is your work on the bellows;

with skill I’ve surely shaped.

A golden ring

I’ve gained from the forge;

this gift will honor Óðinn.

Brokk, my brother,

now blow steady;

to the forge I’m off with iron.

Continue on

until I have ended,

and out I’ve taken my triumph.

Greatest of all

this gift can be,

but bad if the blowing fails.”

Narrator:

“When Eitri went off

to create the treasure,

the fly returned,

flitting about.

Onto his eyelids

it angled and bit,

’til blood was flowing

and blinded his eyes.

When the bellows came down,

he brushed at the fly

as quick as he could

to cast it away.

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