Horn Of The Elders Poem by Franc Rodriguez

A staid mist of evil befell upon the dale,
and the depth of its wide sward.
A sward that was soon to be enmeshed,
in the cold wintry dollop of snow.
In the fjords dwelt brave hearted clansmen,
who once sheltered their lovesome erd.
The brath spell of a true goddess unfolded,
in the blustery winds of the gales that blow.
A war betwixt the Gods had taken place,
and within the Midgard betided a yon hap.
The mighty clans were broken asunder,
by the sundry rifts amongst the kings.
Their greed was not unseen by the Gods,
and the cleft would widen a wreaking gap.
The foremost horn of the elders would then,
come under the threat of wicked beings.
Through the mist upon one harrowing day,
a throng of outlanders wrested their frith.
Bloodthirsty fiends that came to slay amain,
with their swords they bore as they wielded.
It was a horde of orcs sent by the goddess Hel,
who came upon them to gar wathe.
But then through the staid mist came forth,
athelings whose bravery never yielded.
And a swift yelling horn was heard roaring,
through the seemingly blinding mist.
It was thenceforth that a gleam of a rainbow,
could be seen shinning from afar.
The loud blare deafened the ears of the orcs,
and their fallen bodies rotted within the dust.
The burning rainbow had blinded the orcs,
and the heleths left upon them a bloody mar.
The kith of Heimdall took their hilts forthright,
and with their swords drove the evildoers away.
Therefore with the strength of the brethren,
they slew the orcs within the forthnight.
And upon the frithstool of the manifold slain,
the lore of this tale was begotten upon this day.
The roars bellowed as they gloated in their sig,
upon such a gladsome sight.
And the souls of the fallen mettlesome warriors,
were thus gathered by lovely maidens.
The mighty Heimdall had not forsaken them,
but bestowed them with his ruth.
And with the brooding storm that was thurft,
found was the guise of the skulking ravens.
The trickling blood of the orcs overflooded,
the nearby running firth.
Beyond the grasp of the wintry drifting floes,
dwelt the proud lave of a once couth clansmen.
There where their lasting souls waft swiftly,
upon the bustling winds of the day and night.
Hitherto the wones and the will of the Vikings,
were always to bear ellen.
And whither roams thus a once doughty clan,
and the yelling horn of the God of light.
Amongst the clans forsooth the tale of the horn,
never was to be forgotten.
Their deeds amidst the Norsemen were heried,
and they were deemed the keepers.
The wrath of the goddess Hel was a beginning,
to the war betwixt the Gods that was forewritten.
Within the athelings and amidst the clansmen,
roared the mighty horn of the elders.