As a musician, I truly love the dramatic melodic lines of this alliterative form. The rhythms back and forth between the stressed and unstressed syllables create a richness in this spoken verse, that is at its best around a crackling campfire.
Sir Helgi remained strong during the Crucible fight, advancing on to Crown Tourney as one of sixteen fighters who remained of the original sixty-four.
————-<>————-
Sir Helgi hrafnfæðir
fallen in Winter Crown Tourney, A.S. XLVIII
(Anglo-Saxon verse)
Many stalwart soldiers // now sixteen remained
Spent spears rested // in sweet repose
And Freyja’s fighters // awaited her flight.
Death’s drumline // delivered the news
As the sword symphony // finished their song.
All Crucible carnage // now forgotten, was cleared.
Spared in death-sport // knight spurred by Gerhart
Was quickly cut // by Corvus Brother
Soon-Son of Conrad // soft of face.
Estrith’s eagle // eyes on prize
Now cleanly closed // by clever knight.
This Horsemen Hero’s // house-tomb awaits.
Sir Helgi held the field // as Hymir the sea
No slap could slight // his slackened breast
Until his body, bloody // now from blows
Which took the toll // for Thorin’s waste
Gave final fall // and he held fast.
Odin’s offering // lay on open field.
– Bannthegn Beathog nic Dhonnchaidh
. . . is a 14th century bard who can often be seen traveling far from her home in the Highlands with her lord husband and muse. If a good tale crosses her path, she will sing a song about it, pull out its hair and spin it, or throw it in a pot and cook it up.