Reflections of the Reticent Young Bard,
Drunk at the Yule-feast of Horik, King of the Danes

Mead-merry the others, but I remember
How you pledged your eye at the purest well
And the deep draught of wisdom darkened your face...

How you died by the spear, nine days, nine nights,
Hanged on the ash, high sacrifice,
And wrought with pain the power of the runes...

And now, grim war-king, how you watch in your hall,
Awaiting the fall of the final twilight,
Awaiting the wolf at the end of the world.

---V.A. Laub

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