Keepers Of The Golden Ring Of Eight Poem by Franc Rodriguez

It was foretold that a wrath would befall,
and gar the clansmen to blench in fear.
It would be a dreadful fright that in the end,
they would never come to forget.
And blinded by Loki’s unyielding wrath,
they were egged to look beyond their rear.
The evil fiends that he sent would plunder,
without ruth under his behest.
Thenceforth the king beseeched the athelings,
to nestle the stronghold of the kingdom.
From beyond the hillocks they would forbear,
but the clansmen would start to ravel.
The endless raids of the harbingers of death,
made the athelings therefore seek wisdom.
In the wisdom and forbearance of the elders,
they sought the heedful answers to unravel.
The trolls and nords took within the clansmen,
the strong striplings as thralls.
The tidings of the golden ring of eight of Odin,
was told to the athelings amidst the lords.
Henceforth the brave warriors sought to find,
the golden ring beyond the walls.
They ganged into the wealds of Loki’s haven,
amidst his surly trolls and nords.
There abreast the fearless elves and dwarves,
following the forthway of the eight.
And their troth would dangle as they reached,
the edge of the spooky wealds.
There within the darkness before their eyes,
stood a begrimed and thester gate.
The wrath of Loki was to befall upon them,
with such might beyond the fields.
There his hearsome banesmen were awaiting,
with such a yearnful wrath.
They were thwarted by the drights of trolls,
and the nords that swarmed upon them.
The mettlesome werhood of the brave heleths,
would be worn upon their byrnies of merth.
They huddled together yare with their swords,
to hinder their furtherance and a plight so dim.
As they withstood the evil heathens of Loki,
the warriors would begin to wane in strength.
The elves and dwarves slew the trolls and nords,
with their firing bows and arrows.
And the trolls afterwards would start to wallow,
and the nords scurried along their path.
The trolls scampered under the heat of the hild,
dastardly to their darkle burrows.
And the nords would come to dwine afterwards,
within the midst of the blurry fog.
It seemed that the wretched horde of fiends,
feared their sharp spears and swords.
As the athelings gloated a throng of goblins,
would whelm them from beyond the peat bog.
They rode upon the mighty winds of the night,
plucking their eyes like hawkish birds.
The hand of Loki’s might was then felt upon,
the swith brawn of the werod of warriors.
They fought as brave and doughty men of tir,
but they were whelmed by the God’s witchdom.
It was then that the almighty hammer of Thor,
swiftly crush the goblins and their followers.
It would stir among the brazen Gods forever,
the war of the wantsome elderdom.
The lave of Loki’s fiends were overswithed,
like the others who fell.
They stumbled onto a waterfall where found,
were the golden ring of eight that was betoken.
It was hidden behind the guise of a blazing fire,
and under a wretched spell.
Therefore the clansmen knew that in the end,
the spell of the wearg had to be broken.
They bethought of the learncraft of the elders,
who had warned them of the curse first.
The answer was found in the wrought swords,
which were made by the hands of the Gods.
And the golden ring was always a living token,
amongst the everlasting welkin erst.
From amidst the darkened clouds to be heard,
was a striking thunderbolt of lightening rods.
Thor the mund had come to help the clansmen,
amidst their worthy strife.
An atheling would wield his sword to slice,
the hardened rock that it was kept within.
Then a shinning glare of light was seen next,
and once again the rings were alive.
Wise elders were chosen by the mighty clans,
the keepers of the golden ring of eight of Odin.