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Happy Lief Erikson Day!!!

Sessrumnir Kindred Will Soon Celebrate Ten Years!

When I think about the last ten years of my life, I think about Sessrumnir Kindred. I was emerging from a troubled period of my life that began in youth. I had the fortuitous luck to meet a group of people who were mostly fairly new to the area who were starting a group for local heathens. I had little idea about asatru at the time. I had been following a wiccan path for a time and was still kind of looking for my spiritual path.

Through a local public pagan group I met the original core group of people and many others who's paths we've shared for a short time. In the early years it was not uncommon to have 20 or 30 people at ritual, because they knew the party afterward was going to be phenomenal. We have had members leave in dispute and have been involved in public pagan politics which is playing with fire in itself. We eventually removed ourselves from unproductive battles. After the fall out of trying to serve a larger purpose in the pagan community and having our efforts undercut by a few shortsighted community leaders we settled into a small core group with other members that have moved due to jobs and such. We are happy when we see them and think about them often. The local group still here meets as the feeling arises. We gather for ritual and socially. I count them among my closest family.

Soon Sessrumnir Kindred will celebrate its ten year anniversary. I present the new beacon for Sessrumnir Kindred on the web for the second ten years. Happy ten years SK, and thanks for being there.

Völuspá - The Song of the Sybil

(Translated by W. H. Auden & P. B. Taylor)

Heidi men call me when their homes I visit,
A far seeing Volva, wise in talismans.
Caster of spells, cunning in magic.
To wicked women welcome always.
Arm rings and necklaces, Odhinn you gave me
To learn my lore, to learn my magic:
Wider and wider through all worlds I see.
Outside I sat by myself when you came,
Terror of the gods, and gazed in my eyes.
What do you ask of me? Why tempt me?
Odhinn, I know where your eye is concealed,
Hidden away in the well of Mimir:
Mimir each morning his mead drinks
From Valfather's pledge.
Well would you know more?

Of Heimdal too and his horn I know.
Hidden under the holy tree
Down on it pours a precious stream from Valfather's pledge
Well would you know more?

Silence I ask of the sacred folk,
Silence of the kith and kin of Heimdal:
At your will Valfather, I shall well relate
The old songs of men I remember best.
I tell of giants from times forgotten.
Those who fed me in former days:
Nine worlds I can reckon, nine roots of the tree.
The wonderful ash, way under the ground
When Ymir lived long ago
Was no sand or sea, no surging waves.
Nowhere was there earth nor heaven above.
But a grinning gap and grass nowhere.
The sons of Bur then built up the lands.
Moulded in magnificence middle-Earth:
Sun stared from the south on the stones of their hall,
From the ground there sprouted green leeks.
Sun turned from the south, sister of Moon,
Her right arm rested on the rim of Heaven;
She had no inkling where her hall was,
Nor Moon a notion of what might he had,
The planets knew not where their places were.
The high gods gathered in council
In their hall of judgment. All the rulers:
To Night and to Nightfall their names gave,
The Morning they named and the Mid-Day,
Mid-Winter, Mid-Summer, for the assigning of years.
At Ida's Field the Aesir met:
Temple and altar they timbered and raised,
Set up a forge to smithy treasures,
Tongs they fashioned and tools wrought;
Played chess in the court and cheerful were;
Gold they lacked not, the gleaming metal
Then came three, the Thurs maidens,
Rejoicing in their strength, from Giant-home.
The high Gods gathered in council
In their hall of judgment: Who of the dwarves
Should mould man by master craft
From Brimir's blood and Blain' s limbs?
Motsognir was their mighty ruler,
Greatest of dwarves, and Durin after him:
The dwarves did as Durin directed,
Many man forms made from the earth.
Nyi and Nidi, Nordri, Sudri, Austri and Vestri,
Althjof, Dvalin, Bivor, Bavor Bombur, Nori, An and Anar,
Ai, Mjodvitnir, Veignr and Gandalf, Vindalf, Thorin,
Thror and Thrain, Thekkur, Litur, Vitur, Nar and Nyradur,
Fili, Kili, Fundin, Nali Hefti, Vili, Hanar, Sviur, Billing,
Bruni, Bildur, and Buri, Frar, Hornbori Fraegur, Loni,
Aurvangur, Jari, Eikinskjaldi:
(All Durin's folk I have duly named,)
I must tell of the dwarves in Dvalin' s host;
Like lions they were in Lofar's time:
In Juravale's marsh they made their dwelling,
From their Stone hall set out on journeys,
There was Draupnir and Dolgthrasir, Har, Haugspori,
Hlevangur, Gloi, Dori, Ori, Dufur, Andvari, Skirvir,
Virvir Skafidur, Ai, Alf and Yngvi, Eikinskjaldi, Fjalar
and Frosti, Finn and Ginnar:
Men will remember while men live
The long line of Lofar's forbears.
Then from the host three came,
Great, merciful, from the God's home:
Ash and Elm on earth they found,
Faint, feeble, with no fate assigned them
Breath they had not, nor blood nor senses,
Nor language possessed, nor life-hue:
Odhinn gave them breath, Hoenir senses,
Blood and life hue Lothur gave.
I know an ash tree, named Yggdrasil:
Sparkling showers are shed on its leaves
That drip dew, into the dales below,
By Urd's well it waves evergreen,
Stands over that still pool,
Near it a bower whence now there come
The Fate Maidens, first Urd,
Skuld second, scorer of runes,
Then Verdandi, third of the Norns:
The laws that determine the lives of men
They fixed forever and their fate sealed.
The first war in the world I well remember,
When Gullveig was spitted on spear-points
And burned in the hall of the high god:
Thrice burned, thrice reborn,
Often laid low, she lives yet,
The gods hastened to their hall of judgment,
Sat in council to discover who
Had tainted all the air with corruption
And Odhinn's maid offered to the giants,
At the host Odhinn hurled his spear
In the first world-battle; broken was the plankwall
Of the gods fortress: the fierce Vanes
Caused war to occur in the fields.
The gods hastened to their hall of judgment,
Sat in council to discover who
Had tainted all the air with corruption
And Odhinn's maid offered to the giants.
One Thorr felled in his fierce rage;
Seldom he sits when of such he hears:
Oaths were broken, binding vows,
Solemn agreements sworn between them.
Valkyries I saw, coming from afar,
Eagerly riding to aid the Goths;
Skuld bore one shield, Skogul another
Gunn, Hild, Gondul and Spearskogul:
Duly have I named the daughters of Odhinn,
The valiant riders the Valkyries.
Baldur I saw the bleeding God,
His fate still hidden, Odhinn's Son:
Tall on the plain a plant grew,
A slender marvel, the mistletoe.
From that fair shrub, shot by Hodur,
Flew the fatal dart that felled the god.
But Baldur's brother was born soon after:
Though one night old, Odhinn's Son
Took a vow to avenge that death.
His hands he washed not nor his hair combed
Till Baldur's bane was borne to the pyre,
Deadly the bow drawn by Vali,
The strong string of stretched gut,
But Frigga wept in Fensalir
For the woe of Valhalla.
Well, would you know more?

I see one in bonds by the boiling springs;
Like Loki he looks, loathsome to view:
There Sigyn sits, sad by her husband,
In woe by her man.
Well would you know more?

From the east through Venom Valley runs
Over jagged rocks the River Gruesome.
North, in Darkdale, stands the dwelling place
Of Sindri's kin, covered with gold,
A hall also in Everfrost,
and the banquet hall of Brimir the giant.
A third I see, that no sunlight reaches,
On Dead Man's Shore: the doors face northward,
Through its smoke vent venom drips,
Serpent skins enskein that hall.
Men wade there tormented by the stream,
Vile murderers, men forsworn
And artful seducers of other men's wives:
Nidhogg sucks blood from the bodies of the dead
The wolf rends them.
Well, would you know more?

In the east dwells a crone, in Ironwood:
The brood of Fenris are bred there
Wolf-monsters, one of whom
Eventually shall devour the sun.
The giants' watchman, joyful Eggthur
Sits on his howe and harps well:
The red cock, called All-Knower
Boldly crows from Birdwood.
Goldencomb to the gods crows
Who wakes the warriors in Valhalla:
A soot red hen also calls
From Hel's hall, deep under the ground.
Loud howls Garm before Gnipahellir,
Bursting his fetters, Fenris runs:
Further in the future afar I behold
The twilight of the gods who gave victory.
Brother shall strike brother and both fall,
Sisters' sons defiled with incest,
Evil be on earth, an age of whoredom,
Of sharp sword-play and shields clashing,
A wind-age, a wolf-age till the world ruins:
No man to another shall mercy show.
The waters are troubled, the waves surge up:
Announcing now the knell of Fate,
Heimdal winds his horn aloft,
On Hel's road all men tremble
Yggdrasil trembles, the towering ash
Groans in woe; the wolf is loose:
Odhinn speaks with the head of Mimir
Before he is swallowed by Surt's kin.
From the east drives Hrym, lifts up his shield
The squamous serpent squirms with rage
The great worm with the waves contending
The pale-beaked eagle pecks at the dead,
Shouting for joy: the ship Naglfar
Sails out from the east, at its helm Loki
With the children of darkness, the doom-bringers
Offspring of monsters, allies of the wolf,
All who Byleists's brother follow.
What of the gods? What of the elves?
Gianthome groans the gods are in council
The dwarves grieve before their door of stone,
Masters of walls.
Well, would you know more?
Surt with the bane of branches comes
From the south, on his sword the sun of the Valgods,
Crags topple, the crone falls headlong,
Men tread Hel's road, the Heavens split open.
A further woe falls upon Hlin
As Odhinn comes forth to fight the wolf;
The killer of Beli battles with Surt:
Now shall fall Frigga's beloved.
Now valiant comes Valfather's son,
Vidar, to vie with Valdyr in battle,
Plunges his sword into he son of Hvedrung,
Avenging his father with a fell thrust.
Now the son of Hlodyn and Odhinn comes
To fight with Fenris; fiercest of warriors
He mauls in his rage all Middle-Earth;
Men in fear all flee their homesteads;
Nine paces back steps Bur's son
Retreats from the worm of taunts unafraid.
Now death is the portion of doomed men,
Red with blood the buildings of gods,
The sun turns black in the summer after,
Winds whine.
Well, would know more?

Earth sinks in the sea, the sun turns black,
Cast down from Heaven are the hot stars,
Fumes reek, into flames burst,
The sky itself is scorched with fire.
I see Earth rising a second time
Out of the foam, fair and green;
Down from the fells fish to capture,
Wings the eagle; waters flow.
At lda's Field the Aesir meet:
They remember the worm of Middle-Earth,
Ponder again the great twilight
And the ancient runes of the high god
Boards shall be found of a beauty to wonder at,
Boards of gold in the grass long after,
The chess boards they owned in the olden days,
Unsown acres shall harvests bear,
Evil be abolished, Baldur return
And Hropt's hall with Hod rebuild,
Wise gods.
Well, would you know more?

Hoenir shall wield the wand of prophecy,
The sons two brothers set up their dwelling
In wide Windhome. Well, would you know more?

Fairer than sunlight, I see a hall
A hall thatched with gold in Gimle:
Kind Lords shall live there in delight forever.
Now rides the Strong One to Rainbow Door,
Powerful from heaven, the All-Ruler:
From the depths below a drake comes flying
The dark dragon from Darkfell,
Bears on his pinions the bodies of men,
Soars overhead I sink now.

Þrymskviða The Lay of Thrym

Thor was distraught when upon awakening one morning he discovered that his mighty hammer Mjölnir was missing. His shaggy head and his beard quivered as he, the first-born of Mother-Earth reached around for it.

His first words were: "Loki, listen to me! I have suffered a loss beyond perception. My hammer has been stolen!"

They hurried to Freyja's home, and he said: "Freyja, will you lend me your feather-robe so that I can find and retrieve my hammer?"

Freyja said: "I would give it to you, even if it were made of gold or silver."

Loki then flew, with whirring feathers, from the home of the Æsir to the land of the giants.

Thrym, the King of the Thurse, [Note 1] was sitting on a mound, pleating golden halters for his hounds and smoothing the manes of his mares.

Thrym said: "How are the Æsir, and how are the alfs, and what brings you to the land of the giants?"

Loki said: "It's not well with the Æsir, nor with the alfs. Are you the one who hid Thor's hammer?"

Thrym said: "Yes, I hid Thor's hammer a full eight leagues beneath the ground. And no one can get it from me unless he brings Freyja here to be my bride."

Loki then flew, with whirring feathers, from the home of the giants to the land of the Æsir. Thor met him in the central courtyard, and he said:

What good news do you have to report? Have your efforts been rewarded? Tell me, even before you light, what you have learned. A sitting person is often forgetful, and a lying person lies. [Note 2]

Loki said: "My efforts have been rewarded. Thrym, the King of the Thurse, has your hammer. But no one can get it from him unless he brings him Freyja to be his bride."

They hurried to Freyja's home, and Thor said: "Freyja, dress yourself in bridal linen! The two of us are going to the land of the giants."

Freyja grew angry and foamed with rage. The entire hall shook with her fury. The necklace of the Brisings [Note 3] broke apart. She said: "I would have to be the man-craziest of all to go with you to the land of the giants."

All the gods and goddesses of the Æsir hurriedly assembled at the Thing to discuss how they might retrieve Thor's hammer.

Heimdall, the fairest of the gods and one of the prophetic Vanir, foretold the future:

"We shall dress Thor in bridal linen, and adorn him with the necklace of the Brisings. Let him wear a woman's clothes with a bundle of housewife's keys dangling about him and with bridal jewels at his breast and on his head."

Thor, the mighty god, said, "the Æsir will call me cowardly and womanish if I allow myself to be dressed in bridal linen."

Then Loki, the son of Laufey, said: "Save your words, Thor. The giants will soon take over Asgard if you do not retrieve your hammer from them."

So they dressed Thor in women's clothes and bridal linen and adorned him with the necklace of the Brisings, with a bundle of housewife's keys dangling about him and with bridal jewels at his breast and on his head.

Then Loki, the son of Laufey, said: "I will be your servant girl, and the two of us will go to the land of the giants."

The goats were driven home and tied with ropes to run with them. The mountains burst and the earth broke into flames as the son of Odin rode to the land of the giants.

Then Thrym, the King of the Thurse, said: "Stand up, you giants, and cover the benches! Bring me Freyja, the daughter of Njörd from Noatun, to be my wife!"

In my yard I have cows with golden horns, pure black oxen, everything a giant could want; I have riches and treasures; Freyja alone is all that I lack.

That evening they brought ale to the giant's table, and Sif's husband ate an entire ox, eight salmon, and all the baked goods that they brought for the women, and then he drank three measures of mead.

Then Thrym, the King of the Thurse, said: "Have you ever seen a bride bite more sharply? I have never seen a bride bite more broadly, nor have I ever seen a maiden drink more mead."

The maiden quickly responded to the giant's words: "Freyja was so eagerly awaiting the land of giants that she ate nothing for eight full nights!"

He peeked beneath her veil, wanting to kiss her, but then jumped to the back of the hall with a single bound. "Why are Freyja's eyes so terrifying? They seem to be aglow with fire!"

The maiden quickly responded to the giant's words: "Freyja was so eagerly awaiting the land of giants that she did not sleep for eight full nights."

The giant's poor sister entered and begged for a bridal gift: "If you want my friendship and love, then please give me those red-gold rings from your arm."

Then Thrym, the King of the Thurse, said, "Bring the hammer so that we may consecrate the bride. Lay Mjölnir in her lap, from the hand of Vár [Note 4], and let us be consecrated as a pair.

Hlórithi's [Note 5] heart laughed within him when he saw his hammer. First he struck down Thrym, the King of the Thurse, and then he slew all the giant's kin.

He also killed the giant's poor sister who had begged for a bridal gift. Instead of shillings she received blows and instead of rings, a hammer hit. And thus Odin's son retrieved his hammer.

Skírnismál The Lay of Skírnir

Translated by Lee M. Hollander

Freyr, the son of Njordhr, one day had seated himself on Hlidhskjalf and looked
over all the worlds. To sit upon Hlidhskjalf was forbidden to all but Odhinn and Frigg,
by Odhinn's decree. Then saw he in the world of Etins a fair maiden as she went from
the hall of her father to her bower. And that sight made him heavy of heart. Skirnir was
the name of Freyr's servitor. Njordhr bade him to make Freyr speak out.

(Skathi said:)
1. Arise now, Skirnir, and ready make thee
to summon my son,
and find out this from the wise youth,
whom he doth hate.

(Skinir said:)
2. For waspish words I well may look,
if I summon thy son
to find out this from the wise youth,
whom he doth hate.

3. Wilt tell me, Freyr, foremost among Gods,
and answer me as I ask:
Why sittest thou lonely, my Lord, all day
with heavy heart in thy hall?

(Frey said:)
4. How tell thee my yearning, oh youth, as thou wishest--
Why heavy my heart?
The alf's beam shineth all these long days,
but lighter groweth not my longing.

(Skinir said:)
5. Thy heart's not so heavy, I hold, but thou mayest
open it to another;
for in days of yore we young were together:
truly thou mightest trust me.

(Frey said:)
6. From on high I beheld in the halls of Gymir
a maiden to my mind;
her arms did gleam, their glamor filled
all the sea and the air.

7. This maiden is to me more dear
than maiden to any man;
but Aesir and alfs all will have it
that strangers ay we stay.

(7a). (In my behalf her hand shalt ask,
and home bring her hither,
her father let or allow it:
good shall thy reward shall be.)

(Skinir said:)
8. Thy steed then lend me to lift me o'er wyrrd
ring of flickering flame,
the sword also that swings itself
against the tribe of trolls.

(Frey said:)
9. My steed I lend thee to lift thee o'er wyrrd
ring of flickering flame,
the sword also which swings itself,
if wise he who wields it.

(Skirnir said to his steed:)
10. Night it is now, now we shall fare
over moist mountains,
to the thurse's throng;
scatheless we both shall 'scape their might,
or else both be o'erborne by the Etins.

Skirnir rode to Jotunheimr and to Gymir's hall. There were savage
dogs tied to the gate of the enclosure about Gerdh's bower.

Skirnir rode to where a shepherd sate on a mound, and greeted him:

11. Say thou, shepherd, sitting on hill,
who dost watch all ways:
how win I the welcome of the winsome maid
through the grim hounds of Gymir?

(The shepherd said:)
12. Whether art thou doomed, or dead already,
(in the stirrup who standest)?
Never shalt thou win the welcome to have
of the good daughter of Gymir.

(Skinir said:)
13. Ne'er a whit will whine, whatso betide,
who is eager on errand bent;
my fate is foretold me to the time of a day,
allotted is all my life.

(Gerth said:)
14. What outcry and uproar within out courts
hear I now, handmaid?
The earth doth shake and all my father
Gymir's high halls.

(The handmaid said:)
15. By his steed here stands a stranger youth,
unbridles and baits him;
(He wishes, I ween, welcome to have
from the good daughter of Gymir).

(Gerth said:)
16. Bid to my bower the bold-minded come,
to meet me and drink our mead;
though far from us, I fear me, is not
my brother's banesman

17. Whether art of the alf's or Aesir come,
or art thou a wise Van?
Through furious fire why farest alone
to behold our halls?

(Skinir said:)
18. Neither alf am I, nor Aesir come
nor a wise Van;
through furious fire yet fared I alone
to behold your halls.

19. Apples eleven have I all golden;
to thee, Gerdh, I shall give them,
to hear from thy lips thou lovest Freyr,
and deemest him dearest to thee.

(Gerth said:)
20. The Apples eleven not e'er shall I take
to do any wight's will;
nor shall I ever with Njordhr's son Freyr
dwell while our lives do last.

(Skinir said:)
21. Draupnir, the ring, then thy dowry shall be,
which with Baldr was burned;
eight rings as dear will drop from it
every ninth night.

(Gerth said:)
22. Draupnir, the ring, I do not want,
though it with Baldr was burned;
gold I lack not in Gymir's halls,
to deal out daily.

(Skinir said:)
23. This mottled blade, dost, maiden, see it
which here I hold in my hand?
Thy haughty head I hew from thy neck
but thou yield thy love to the youth.

(Gerth said:)
24. Nor gold nor sword will gain it over me
any wight's will to do;
if Gymir, my father, did find thee here,
fearless warrior, ye would fight to the death.

(Skinir said:)
25. This mottled blade, dost, maiden, see it
which here I hold in my hand?
Before its edge the Etin falls,
and is thy father fey.

26. With this galdrwand bewitch thee I shall,
my will, maiden, to do;
where the sons of men will see thee no more,
thither shalt thou!

27. On eagle-hill shalt ever sit,
aloof from the world, lolling toward Hel.
To thee men shall be more loathsome far
than to mankind the slimey wyrm.

28. An ugly sight, when out thou comest,
even Hrimnir will stare at and every hind glare at,
more widely known than the warder of Gods,
and shalt gape through the gate.

29. Shalt drivel and dote, and drag through life,
with salt tears shalt sorrow;
shalt sit as I say, with sadness heavy,
feel twofold torment
with heavy heart.

30. Imps shall nip thee, all the long days
thou art with the Etins;
to Rime Thurses' hall shalt hobble all days,
cringe under curse,
cringe under care.
For play shall weeping thy pastime be:
live a loathly life with tears!

31. With three-headed thurse, thwarted, thou shalt live,
or else unwedded be;
lust shall lash thee,
weakness waste thee:
be like the thistle which is thrust under,
when the harvest is harbored.

32. To the woods I wended, to the wet forest,
a galdrwand me to make,
and a galdrwand I made me.

33. Thou hast angered Odhinn, the uppermost God;
Freyr will frown on thee,
thou wicked wench! Woe betide thee,
thou hast the great God's wrath.

34. Hear ye rime thurses, hear ye etins,
ye sons of Settung, all ye sibs of the Aesir:
how I forbid, how I debar
men's mirth to the maid,
men's love to the maid.

35. Hrimgrimnir is hight who shall have thee, a thurse,
Niflhelheimr beneath:
there, slavering slaves shall serve thee 'neath tree roots
with staling of stinking goats.
No other drink shalt ever get,
wench at thy will,
wench at my will!

36. A 'thurs' rune [Thurisaz] for thee, and three more I scratch:
lechery, loathing, and lust;
off I shall scratch them, as on I did scratch them,
if of none there be need.

(Gerth said:)
37. Hail, rather, hero, and hold to thy lips
this crystal cup with mead;
though hardly thought I that hence I should fare,
to be a Van's wife.

(Skinir said:)
38. My errand I would know altogether,
ere hence I ride home.
When art minded to meet the strong one,
and welcome the wise son of Njordhr?

(Gerth said:)
39. Barri is hight, as both we know,
for true love a trysting glade.
after nights nine to Njordhr's son there
will Gerdh grant her love.

Then rode Skirnir home. Freyr stood without and greeted him
and asked him what tidings he brought:

40. Say now, Skirnir, ere thou unsaddled the steed
and set one foot foreward:
what errand bringest thou from Jotunheimr,
of mark for thee or me?

(Skinir said:)
41. Barri is hight, as both we know,
for true love a trysting glade.
after nights nine to Njordhr's son there
will Gerdh grant her love.

(Frey said:)
42. Long is a night, longer are two--
how shall I thole three?
Shorter to me a month oft seemed,
than part of this night of pining.

Rígsþula The Lay of Rig

Translated by Lee M. Hollander

It is told by men in olden tales that one of the gods whose name was
Heimdall, fared forth along the seashore until he came to a farm. There
he called himself Rig. The following poem treats of this tale.

1. In old times, say they, on earth-paths green
there wended his way a wise god ancient,
rugged and mighty-- Rig was he hight.

2. Walked unwearied (in middle ways);
to a dwelling he came, was the door bolted.
In gan he go, on the ground was a fire,
at the hearth, hoary, sate husband and wife---
Ai and Edda, in old headgear.

3. Well knew Rig wisely to counsel;
on middle seat he sate him down,
betwixt the twain of the toft benched him.

4. Then took Edda a thick loaf heavy
of bread hard-baked and full of bran;
a bowl then bore on the board Edda,
filled with the broth of boiled calf-meat.

5. Well knew Rig wisely to counsel;
he rose up thence, ready for sleep;
on middle bedstead his berth he made,
betwixt the twain of the toft laid him.

6. And there stayed he three days together;
then walked unwearied in middle ways.
Moons full nine went meanwhile by.

7. Gave Edda birth to a boy child then,
(in clouts she swathed) the swarthy-skinned one.
Thrall they called him, and cast on him water
(dark was his hair and dull his eyes).

8. On his hand the skin was scraggy and wrinkled,
(nasty his nails), his knuckles gnarled,
his fingers thick, his face ugly,
his back hulky, his heels were long.

9. He gan to grow and gain in strength,
betimes took him to try his might:
to bind bast ropes, burdens to pack,
to bear faggots home the whole day long.

10. Came to his cot a crook-legged wench---
were her soles dirty, and sunburnt her arms,
her nose bent downward; her name was Thir.

11. On middle seat she sate her down,
by her side did sit the son of the house;
whispered and laughed and lay together
Thrall and Thir whole days through.

12. In their hut, happy, they had a brood:
I ween they were hight Hay-Giver, Howler,
Bastard, Sluggard, Bent-Back and Paunch,
Stumpy, Stinker, Stableboy, Swarthy,
Longshanks and Lout: they laid fences,
put dung on fields, fattened the swine,
herded the goats, and grubbed up peat.

13. Their daughters were Drudge and Daggle-Tail,
Slattern, Serving-Maid, and Cinder-Wench,
Stout-Leg, Shorty, Stumpy and Dumpy,
Spindleshanks eke, and Sputterer:
thence are sprung the breed of thralls.

14. At his staff Rig strode, and straight forth fared;
to a dwelling he came, was the door ajar.
In gan he go, on the ground was a fire,
sate husband and wife there with their work busy.

15. A weaver's beam out of wood he shaped--
his beard was brushed, and banged, his hair--
in kirtle tight-fitting; were planks on the floor.
16. The good wife sate and swayed her distaff,
braided the yarn to use for weaving,
with a snood on her head and a smock on her breast,
on her neck, a kerchief, and clasps on her shoulders.
Afl and Amma owned that house.

17. Well knew Rig wisely to counsel,
(on middle seat he sate him down,
betwixt the twain of the toft benched him).

18. (Then took Amma .... .. ..... ...
..... .... ..... ..... ....
(a full trencher on the table she put
with boiled calf-meat, the best she had.)

19. (Well knew Rig wisely to counsel),
he rose up thence, ready for sleep;
on middle bedstead his berth he made,
betwixt the twain of the toft laid him.

20. And there stayed he three days together
(then walked unwearied in middle ways).
Moons full nine went meanwhile by.

21. Gave Amma birth to a boy child then.
Karl they called him, clothed him in linen;
ruddy his hue, and rapid his eyes.

22. Then gan he grow and gain in strength,
tamed the oxen and tempered ploughshares,
timbered houses, and barns for the hay,
fashioned carts, and followed the plough.

23. A bride they brought him with bunch of keys dangling,
in goatskin kirtle, gave her to Karl.
Snoer was she hight and sate under veil,
[a house they reared them and rings bestowed,]
their linen they spread, and the larder stocked.

24. In their homestead, happy, they had a brood,
hight Man and Yeoman, Master, Goodman,
Husbandman, Farmer, Franklin, Crofter,
Bound-Beard, Steep-Beard, Broad, Swain, and Smith.

25. By other names were known their daughters:
Woman, Gentlewoman, Wife, Bride, Lady,
Haughty, Maiden, Hussif and Dame:
thence are come the kin of carls.

26. At his staff Rig strode steadfastly on;
a hall he saw then, was southward the door,
raised on high, with a ring in the doorpost.

27. He strode in straightway, was straw on the floor.
Sate there the good folk, gazed at each other,
Father and Mother, with their fingers playing?

28. On the bench he sate, a bowstring twining,
bent the elmwood, and arrows shafted.
Sate the lady, looked at her arms,
stroked the linen, straightened her sleeves.

29. Was a brooch on her breast, and a bonnet on her head,
a long train of silk, and sark all blue.
Was her brow brighter, her breast lighter,
her neck whiter, than whitest snow.

30. Well knew Rig wisely to counsel,
on middle seat he sate him down,
betwixt the twain of the toft he benched him.

31. Of bleached flax then a broidered cloth
did Mother take, and the table covered;
a light-baked loaf she laid on the table,
of wheaten meal, white and thin.

32. A full trencher on the table she put,
silver-plated, and set forth then
flitches of bacon and steaked fowl also;
there was wine in a crock, were the cups gold-plated;
they drank and chatted till the day was ended.

33. Well could Rig wisely counsel;
he rose up thence, ready for sleep;
(on middle bedstead his berth he made,
betwixt the twain of the toft he laid him.)

34. And there stayed he three days together;
then walked unwearied in middle ways.
Full nine months went meanwhile by.

35. A son bore Mother, in silk they swathed him,
sprinkled water on him and called him Earl.
Was his hair flaxen, and fair-hued his cheek,
his eyes awfully like an adder's, blazed.

36. Up grew Earl within the hall,
gan bucklers wield and the bowstring fasten,
gan the elmwood bend and arrows shaft;
gan hurl the spear and speed the lance,
gan hunt with hounds, and horses ride,
gan brandish swords and swim in the sea.

37. Out of woodlands came Rig walking,
came Rig walking, and taught him runes;
his own name gave him as heir and son,
bade him make his own the udal lands,
the udal lands and olden manors.

38. He dauntless rode through darkling woods,
over frosty fells, to a faraway hall.
Shields he shattered and shafts he hurled,
brandished his sword and swiftly rode;
he wakened war and warriors slew,
with wound-red weapons he won him land.

39. He made himself master of manors eighteen,
gan share his wealth and shower it on all'
silver and gold and gender steeds;
squandered arm rings and scattered gold?

40. His heralds drove on dew-wet paths,
and came to the hall where Hersir dwelled;
a daughter had he, dainty-fingered,
fair-haired and wise, was she hight Erna.

41. For her hand they asked, and home drove her,
gave her to Earl, gowned in linen;
they lived together and loved each other,
had many children, and lived cheerfully.

42. Boy was the oldest, Bairn the second,
then Issue and Child, Heir, Youth, and Squire,
Offspring and Lad-- they sports did learn--
Son and Scion-- swimming and "tables";
Kund one was called, was Kon the youngest.

43. Up within hall grew Earl's children;
spearshafts they shook, with shields they fended,
swift steeds bestrode, and straightened arrows.

44. But Kon only could carve runes,
runes lasting ay, life-keeping runes;
to bring forth babes birth runes he knew,
to dull sword edges and to calm the sea.

45. Fowls' speech he knew, and quenched fires,
could soothe (sorrows) and the sick mind heal;
in his arms the strength of eight men had.

46. In runes he rivaled Rig the Earl;
with wiles he warred, outwitting him;
thus got for himself, and gained to have,
the name of Rig and runic lore.

47. Rode Kon the young through copse and woods,
birds he snared, used bow and arrow.

48. Then quoth a crow, croaking on branch:
"Why snarest thou birds, scion of kings?
Rather should'st thou ride swift horse,
(brandish swords) and slay foemen.

49. "Have Dan and Danp a dwelling richer,
and lands larger, than are left to thee;
are they skilled in steering on stormy seas,
in trying swords and slaying heros."

Sigrdrífumál The Lay of Sigrdrífa

Translated by W. H. Auden and P. B. Taylor

Sigurd rode up to Hindfell and headed south towards Frankland. On the mountain
he saw a bright light like a fire burning and shining towards Asgardhr. But when he
arrived he found a shield-wall and over it a banner. Sigurd went to the shield-wall and
saw a man in full armour lying asleep. He took the helmet from his head whereupon he
saw that it was a woman. The byrnie was stuck fast as if it had grown into her flesh.
With his sword Grani he slit the byrnie through from the neck down and through both
sleeves, and removed it from her. She awoke, sat up and said:

Who has slit my byrnie and from sleep roused me,
Who has broken the spell that bound me so long?

Sigmund's son, Sigurd, who lately
Killed the Raven's Carrion Tree.

Long have I slept, long was I sleeping,
Long are the miseries of men: Odhinn chose to charm me to sleep
When he spoke a spell over me.

Sigurd sat down and asked her her name. She took a horn full of mead and gave
him a remembrance drink.

Hail Day, Hail, Sons of Day!
Hail Night and New Moon!
With kind eyes look hither and grant us
Victory while we live.

Hail Gods! Hail Goddesses!
Hail bountiful Earth!
Grace us both with the gift of speech
And leech hands while we live.

Her name was Sigrdrifa, meaning Victory-Granter, and she was a Valkyrie. She said
that two kings had fought. One was named Helm Gunnar; he had grown old but was still
the greatest warriors, and to him Odhinn had decreed victory. The other Agnar, Hauda's
brother, who never had hopes of being favoured. Victory-Granter felled Helm Gunnar in
battle. In revenge Odhinn pricked her with a sleep thorn and said that she should never
there-after fight for victory but should be married. But, she said him, I in my turn bind myself
by a vow to marry no man except one who knows no fear. Sigurd asked her to make her
wisdom known to him, since she had knowledge of all the worlds, Sigrdrifa said :

Sea runes you should know to save from wreck
Sail steeds on the Sea:
Carve them on the bow and the blade of the rudder,
Etch them with fire on the oars;
Though high the breakers and blue the waves.
You shall sail safe into harbour.

Limb-runes you should know if a leech you would be,
Who can properly probe wounds:
It is best to carve them on the bark of trees
Whose limbs lean to the east.

Speech-runes you should know, so that no man
Out of hatred may do you harm:
These you shall wind" these you shall fold,
These you shall gather together,
When the people throng to the Thing to hear
Just judgements given.

Thought-runes you should know if you would be thought by all
The wisest of mortal men:
Hropt devised them,
Hropt scratched them
Hropt took them to heart
From the wise waters the waters then run
From the head of Heidraupnir
From the horn of Hoddrofnir.

On the Ben he stood with Brimir's sword"
A helmet upon his head:
Then Mimir's head uttered for the first time
Words of great wisdom.

He spoke runes on the shied that stands before the shining god,
In the ear of Early Awake and on the hoof of All-Wise
On the wheel that turns ever under Hrungnir's chariot,
On the sled straps and on Sleipnir's teeth.

On the bears paw and on Bragi's tongue,
On the wolfs foot and the falcons beak,
On the bloody wings and at the bridges end,
On the palm of child loosener and the path of comfort .

On glass and on gold and the fore-guesses of men,
In wine and in malt and in the mind's seat,
On Gungnir's point and on Grani's breast,
On the nails of the Norns and the Night Owls beak.


All were scratched off which were scratched on,
Mingled with holy mead
And sent on the wide ways,
Some to gods some to elves,
Some to the wise Vanes,
Some to the sons of men

There are Beech runes, there are Birth Runes,
And all the ale runes
Precious runes of power!
Unspoiled they are un-spoiled they are,
Learn them and use them long
Till the high powers perish.

Now you shall choose, for the choice is given you,
Maple - of - well - forged - weapons,
Speech or silence, you shall say which:
Evil is allotted to all.

I shall not flee, though fated to die,
For never have I known fear.
Grant me but this give me all
Your love counsel while I live."

I counsel you first , among kinsmen remain
Free from fault and reproach:
Be slow to wrath though they wrong you much,
This will do you good in death.

I counsel you second; swear no oath
But what you mean to abide by:
A halter awaits the word breaker,
Villainous is the wolf-of-vows.

I counsel you third; at the Thing never bandy
Words with unwise men,
For the unwise man often speaks
worse words than he knows.

But speak your mind; of the silent it is often
Believed they are low-born cowards,
That their foes are speaking the truth .
Famous-at-home may fail abroad
When strangers test his truth:
The reward of the liar is not long in coming;
He dies the very next day.


I say to you fourth; if a sorceress dwell,
A witch by the way side,
It is better to leave than to be her guest
Though night fall on your faring.


Fore sighted eyes need the sons of men
Whenever they come to combat;
By the broad road may sit bale wise women
Who blunt both blades and courage.


I counsel you fifth; though fair be the maids
On the benches within the hall,
Let your sleep not be ruled by the silver of marriage,
Nor beguile the girls with kisses


I counsel you sixth; if you sit with warriors
And the ale talk turns ill,
Bandy no words with bragging drunkards:
Wine steals the wits of many.


Quarrels and ale have often been
The cause of ill to heroes:
Death to some, to some bewitchment,
Many are the grief's of men.

I counsel you seventh; if you Come disputing
With fierce hearted fighters,
To battle is better than to be burned in the hall,
Although it gleam with gold.

I counsel you eighth; of evil beware,
Of charming smiles of deceit:
Let no maidens entice you, nor men's wives,
Nor lead them into lawless pleasures.

I counsel you ninth; cover the dead
Whenever on earth you find them,
Be they dead of sickness. or drowned in the river,
Or warriors slain by weapons.

Dead corpses you should clean with water,
Wash their hands and heads,
Comb and dry them. in their coffins lay them,
And bid them a blessed sleep.


I counsel you tenth; trust not ever
the words of a wolf's kin,
If you have killed his kin
Or felled his father:
Wolf's bane is in his blood
Though he be glad of your gold.

Anger and hate are ever awake,
So is harm also:
The boar visored, when vain-glorious.
Lack both wit and weapons.

I counsel you eleventh; there lurks evil
Round each bend of the road:
A long life you must not look to have,
So great are the hatreds grown.

The Risala of Ibn Fadlan

Ibn Fadlan was an Arab chronicler. In 921 C.E., the Caliph of Baghdad sent Ibn Fadlan with an embassy to the King of the Bulgars of the Middle Volga. Ibn Fadlan wrote an account of his journeys with the embassy, called a Risala. This Risala is of great value as a history, although it is clear in some places that inaccuracies and Ibn Fadlan's own prejudices have slanted the account to Some extent.

During the course of his journey, Ibn Fadlan met a people called the Rus, a group of Swedish origin, acting as traders in the Bulgar capital. The first allusion to the Rus comes toward the close of the description of the Bulgars. When the Rus or people of another race came with slaves for sale, the king of the Bulgars had a right to choose one slave in each ten for himself. The full description begins:

§ 80. I have seen the Rus as they came on their merchant journeys and encamped by the Volga. I have never seen more perfect physical specimens, tall as date palms, blonde and ruddy; they wear neither tunics nor caftans, but the men wear a garment, which covers one side of the body and leaves a hand free.

Note: Although Ibn Fadlan here says the men go without "tunic or caftan," he later describes the funeral of a Rus chieftain, who is specially dressed in both tunic and caftan before cremation (§ 89). The tunic probably corresponds to Old Norse kyrtill, "a knee-length tunic with sleeves which was worn belted." The caftan is a heavy woolen overgarment, known in Old Norse as an ólpa . The "garment which covers one side of the body and leaves a hand free" must be the Norse rectangular cloak (Old Norse möttull, skikkja, or feldr) which was worn pinned at the right shoulder leaving the sword-hand free.

§ 81. Each man has an axe, a sword, and a knife and keeps each by him at all times. The swords are broad and grooved, of Frankish sort. Every man is tattooed from fingernails to neck with dark green (or green or blue-black) trees, figures, etc.

§ 82. Each woman wears on either breast a box of iron, silver, copper or gold; the value of the box indicates the wealth of the husband. Each box has a ring from which depends a knife. The women wear neck rings of gold and silver, one for each 10,000 dirhems that her husband is worth; some women have many. Their most prized ornaments are beads of green glass of the same make as ceramic objects one finds on their ships. They trade beads among themselves and they pay an exaggerated price for them, for they buy them for a dirhem apiece. They string them as necklaces for their women.

I. In place of gold the Rus use sable skins. No standard measure is known in the land; they buy and sell by dry measure. They are very fond of pork and many of them who have assumed the garb of Muslimism miss it very much.

II. The Rus are a great host, all of them red haired; they are big men with white bodies. The women of this land have boxes made, according to their circumstances and means, out of gold, silver, and wood. From childhood they bind these to their breasts so that their breasts will not grow larger. Each man puts a chain around his wife's neck for each thousand dinars of his wealth.

Note: The preceding two paragraphs are from the 16th century C.E. Persian geographer Amin Razi, who has taken Ibn Fadlan's observation and attempted to devise a reason for the observation, thus mistakenly assuming that Ibn Fadlan's "breast boxes: -- actually the tortoise-shell shaped brooches of the Nordic woman's costume -- are used to control breast size, rather than being simple ornamentation.)

§ 83. They are the filthiest of God's creatures. They have no modesty in defecation and urination, nor do they wash after pollution from orgasm, nor do they wash their hands after eating. Thus they are like wild asses. When they have come from their land and anchored on, or ties up at the shore of the Volga, which is a great river, they build big houses of wood on the shore, each holding ten to twenty persons more or less. Each man has a couch on which he sits. With them are pretty slave girls destines for sale to merchants: a man will have sexual intercourse with his slave girl while his companion looks on. Sometimes whole groups will come together in this fashion, each in the presence of others. A merchant who arrives to buy a slave girl from them may have to wait and look on while a Rus completes the act of intercourse with a slave girl.

§ 84. Every day they must wash their faces and heads and this they do in the dirtiest and filthiest fashion possible: to wit, every morning a girl servant brings a great basin of water; she offers this to her master and he washes his hands and face and his hair -- he washes it and combs it out with a comb in the water; then he blows his nose and spits into the basin. When he has finished, the servant carries the basin to the next person, who does likewise. She carries the basin thus to all the household in turn, and each blows his nose, spits, and washes his face and hair in it.

Note: Ibn Fadlan's main source of disgust with the Rus bathing customs have to do with his Islamic faith, which requires a pious Mohammedan to wash only in running water or water poured from a container so that the rinsings do not again touch the bather. The sagas often describe a woman washing a man's hair for him, often as a gesture of affection. It would be likely that the basin was actually emptied between each bath: Ibn Fadlan would still have felt the basin contaminated by previous use. It does seem here that Ibn Fadlan may be exaggerating a bit for effect.

§ 85. When the ships come to this mooring place, everybody goes ashore with bread, meat, onions, milk and intoxicating drink and betakes himself to a long upright piece of wood that has a face like a man's and is surrounded by little figures, behind which are long stakes in the ground. The Rus prostrates himself before the big carving and says, "O my Lord, I have come from a far land and have with me such and such a number of girls and such and such a number of sables", and he proceeds to enumerate all his other wares. Then he says, "I have brought you these gifts," and lays down what he has brought with him, and continues, "I wish that you would send me a merchant with many dinars and dirhems, who will buy from me whatever I wish and will not dispute anything I say." Then he goes away. If he has difficulty selling his wares and his stay is prolonged, he will return with a gift a second or third time. If he has still further difficulty, he will bring a gift to all the little idols and ask their intercession, saying, "These are the wives of our Lord and his daughters and sons." And he addresses each idol in turn, asking intercession and praying humbly. Often the selling goes more easily and after selling out he says, "My Lord has satisfied my desires; I must repay him," and he takes a certain number of sheep or cattle and slaughters them, gives part of the meat as alms, brings the rest and deposits it before the great idol and the little idols around it, and suspends the heads of the cattle or sheep on the stakes. In the night, dogs come and eat all, but the one who has made the offering says, "Truly, my Lord is content with me and has consumed the present I brought him."

§ 86. An ill person is put in a tent apart with some bread and water and people do not come to speak to him; they do not come even to see him every day, especially if he is a poor man or a slave. If he recovers, he returns to them, and if he dies, they cremate him. If he is a slave, he is left to be eaten by dogs and birds of prey. If the Rus catch a thief or robber, they hang him on a tall tree and leave him hanging until his body falls in pieces.

§ 87. I heard that at the deaths of their chief personages they did many things, of which the least was cremation, and I was interested to learn more. At last I was told of the death of one of their outstanding men. They placed him in a grave and put a roof over it for ten days, while they cut and sewed garments for him.

If the deceased is a poor man they make a little boat, which they lay him in and burn. If he is rich, they collect his goods and divide them into three parts, one for his family, another to pay for his clothing, and a third for making intoxicating drink, which they drink until the day when his female slave will kill herself and be burned with her master. They stupefy themselves by drinking this beer night and day; sometimes one of them dies cup in hand.

Alt: They burn him in this fashion: they leave him for the first ten days in a grave. His possessions they divide into three parts: one part for his daughters and wives; another for garments to clothe the corpse; another part covers the cost of the intoxicating drink which they consume in the course of ten days, uniting sexually with women and playing musical instruments. Meanwhile, the slave girl who gives herself to be burned with him, in these ten days drinks and indulges in pleasure; she decks her head and her person with all sorts of ornaments and fine dress and so arrayed gives herself to the men.

When a great personage dies, the people of his family ask his young women and men slaves, "Who among you will die with him?" One answers, "I." Once he or she has said that, the thing is obligatory: there is no backing out of it. Usually it is one of the girl slaves who do this.

§ 88. When the man of whom I have spoken died, his girl slaves were asked, "Who will die with him?" One answered, "I." She was then put in the care of two young women, who watched over her and accompanied her everywhere, to the point that they occasionally washed her feet with their own hands. Garments were being made for the deceased and all else was being readied of which he had need. Meanwhile the slave drinks every day and sings, giving herself over to pleasure.

§ 89. When the day arrived on which the man was to be cremated and the girl with him, I went to the river on which was his ship. I saw that they had drawn the ship onto the shore, and that they had erected four posts of birch wood and other wood, and that around the ship was made a structure like great ship's tents out of wood. Then they pulled the ship up until it was on this wooden construction. Then they began to come and go and to speak words that I did not understand, while the man was still in his grave and had not yet been brought out. The tenth day, having drawn the ship up onto the riverbank, they guarded it. In the middle of the ship they prepared a dome or pavilion of wood and covered this with various sorts of fabrics. Then they brought a couch and put it on the ship and covered it with a mattress of Greek brocade. Then came an old woman whom they call the Angel of Death, and she spread upon the couch the furnishings mentioned. It is she who has charge of the clothes making and arranging all things, and it is she who kills the girl slave. I saw that she was a strapping old woman, fat and louring.

When they came to the grave they removed the earth from above the wood, then the wood, and took out the dead man clad in the garments in which he had died. I saw that he had grown black from the cold of the country. They put intoxicating drink, fruit, and a stringed instrument in the grave with him. They removed all that. The dead man did not smell bad, and only his color had changed. They dressed him in trousers, stockings, boots, a tunic, and caftan of brocade with gold buttons. They put a hat of brocade and fur on him. Then they carried him into the pavilion on the ship. They seated him on the mattress and propped him up with cushions. They brought intoxicating drink, fruits, and fragrant plants, which they put with him, then bread, meat, and onions, which they placed before him. Then they brought a dog, which they cut in two and put in the ship. Then they brought his weapons and placed them by his side. Then they took two horses, ran them until they sweated, then cut them to pieces with a sword and put them in the ship. Next they killed a rooster and a hen and threw them in. The girl slave who wished to be killed went here and there and into each of their tents, and the master of each tent had sexual intercourse with her and said, "Tell your lord I have done this out of love for him."

§ 90. Friday afternoon they led the slave girl to a thing that they had made which resembled a doorframe. She placed her feet on the palms of the men and they raised her up to overlook this frame. She spoke some words and they lowered her again. A second time they raised her up and she did again what she had done; then they lowered her. They raised her a third time and she did as she had done the two times before. Then they brought her a hen; she cut off the head, which she threw away, and then they took the hen and put it in the ship. I asked the interpreter what she had done. He answered, "The first time they raised her she said, 'Behold, I see my father and mother.' The second time she said, 'I see all my dead relatives seated.' The third time she said, 'I see my master seated in Paradise and Paradise is beautiful and green; with him are men and boy servants. He calls me. Take me to him.' " Now they took her to the ship. She took off the two bracelets she was wearing and gave them both to the old woman called the Angel of Death, who was to kill her; then she took off the two finger rings which she was wearing and gave them to the two girls who had served her and were the daughters of the woman called the Angel of Death. Then they raised her onto the ship but they did not make her enter the pavilion.

Alt. After that, the group of men who have cohabitated with the slave girl make of their hands a sort of paved way whereby the girl, placing her feet on the palms of their hands, mounts onto the ship.

The men came with shields and sticks. She was given a cup of intoxicating drink; she sang at taking it and drank. The interpreter told me that she in this fashion bade farewell to all her girl companions. Then she was given another cup; she took it and sang for a long time while the old woman incited her to drink up and go into the pavilion where her master lay. I saw that she was distracted; she wanted to enter the pavilion but put her head between it and the boat. Then the old woman seized her head and made her enter the pavilion and entered with her. Thereupon the men began to strike with the sticks on the shields so that her cries could not be heard and the other slave girls would not seek to escape death with their masters. Then six men went into the pavilion and each had intercourse with the girl. Then they laid her at the side of her master; two held her feet and two her hands; the old woman known as the Angel of Death re-entered and looped a cord around her neck and gave the crossed ends to the two men for them to pull. Then she approached her with a broad-bladed dagger, which she plunged between her ribs repeatedly, and the men strangled her with the cord until she was dead.

§ 91. Then the closest relative of the dead man, after they had placed the girl whom they have killed beside her master, came, took a piece of wood which he lighted at a fire, and walked backwards with the back of his head toward the boat and his face turned toward the people, with one hand holding the kindled stick and the other covering his anus, being completely naked, for the purpose of setting fire to the wood that had been made ready beneath the ship. Then the people came up with tinder and other fire wood, each holding a piece of wood of which he had set fire to an end and which he put into the pile of wood beneath the ship. Thereupon the flames engulfed the wood, then the ship, the pavilion, the man, the girl, and everything in the ship. A powerful, fearful wind began to blow so that the flames became fiercer and more intense.

Alt: After the girl is slain, two relatives of the dead take brands and set the ship on fire, so that the dead man and the ship are shortly burned to ashes. If in this moment a wind blows and the fire is strengthened and the ashes are dispersed, the man is accordingly one who belongs in Paradise; otherwise they take the dead to be one unwelcome at the threshold of bliss or even to be condemned. When two people among them quarrel and the dissention is prolonged and the king is unable to reconcile them, he commands that they fight with swords; he who wins is right.

§ 92. One of the Rus was at my side and I heard him speak to the interpreter, who was present. I asked the interpreter what he said. He answered, "He said, 'You Arabs are fools.' " "Why?" I asked him. He said, "You take the people who are most dear to you and whom you honor most and put them into the ground where insects and worms devour them. We burn him in a moment, so that he enters Paradise at once." Then he began to laugh uproariously. When I asked why he laughed, he said, "His Lord, for love of him, has sent the wind to bring him away in an hour." And actually an hour had not passed before the ship, the wood, the girl, and her master were nothing but cinders and ashes.

Then they constructed in the place where had been the ship which they had drawn up out of the river something like a small round hill, in the middle of which they erected a great post of birch wood, on which they wrote the name of the man and the name of the Rus king and they departed.

§ 93. It is the custom of the king of the Rus to have with him in his palace four hundred men, the bravest of his companions and those on whom he can rely. These are the men who die with him and let themselves be killed for him. Each has a female slave who serves him, washes his head, and prepares all that he eats and drinks, and he also has another female slave with whom he sleeps. These four hundred men sit about the king's throne, which is immense and encrusted with fine precious stones. With him on the throne sit forty female slaves destined for his bed. Occasionally he has intercourse with one of them in the presence of his companions of whom we have spoken, without coming down from the throne. When he needs to answer a call of nature, he uses a basin. When he wants to ride out, his horse is brought up to the throne and he mounts. If he wishes to dismount, he rides up so that he can dismount onto the throne. He has a lieutenant who commands his troops, makes war upon his enemies, and plays his role vis-à-vis his subjects.

Outstanding men among them are inclined to occupy themselves with tanning and are not ashamed of this lowly occupation. The cloth of these lands and localities is famous, especially that of their capital, which is called Kyawh. Famous and noted cities of the Rus are Crsk and Hrqh.

Note: Here Ibn Fadlan is reporting hearsay about the distant capital of the Rus and the state in which their king resides. While the jewel-encrusted throne is certainly an exaggeration, the war-band that surrounds the king is reminiscent of the comitatus of Germanic practice. While it does seem extremely unlikely that the Rus king would mount and dismount from his horse directly from his high seat in the hall, Yngvars saga tells of one instance in which warriors ride into a hall and up to the king's throne there. The Rus king's delegation of war-making and civil administration to a lieutenant is not a Norse practice, but rather seems to be borrowed from the practice of the Khagan (King) of the Khazars or other Turkish tribes, who would appoint an official termed a bey for these activities.


The translation of the Rus section Ibn Fadlan's Risala, as given above, is a composite of the handful of surviving manuscript versions. For the full text and commentary of Ibn Fadlan's account of the Rus, please see:

Smyser, H.M. "Ibn Fadlan's Account of the Rus with Some Commentary and Some Allusions to Beowulf." Franciplegius: Medieval and Linguistic Studies in Honor of Francis Peabody Magoun, Jr. eds. Jess B. Bessinger Jr. and Robert P. Creed. New York: New York University Press. 1965. pp 92-119.

Havamal: The Words of the High One

(Translated by W. H. Auden & P. B. Taylor)

Young and alone on a long road,
Once I lost my way:
Rich I felt when I found another;
Man rejoices in man,

A kind word need not cost much,
The price of praise can be cheap:
With half a loaf and an empty cup
I found myself a friend,

Two wooden stakes stood on the plain,
On them I hung my clothes:
Draped in linen, they looked well born,
But, naked, I was a nobody

Too early to many homes I came,
Too late, it seemed, to some:
The ale was finished or else un-brewed,
The unpopular cannot please,

Some would invite me to visit their homes,
But none thought I needed a meal,
As though I had eaten a whole joint,
Just before with a friend who had two

The man who stands at a strange threshold,
Should be cautious before he cross it,
Glance this way and that:
Who knows beforehand what foes may sit
Awaiting him in the hall?

Greetings to the host,
The guest has arrived,
In which seat shall he sit?
Rash is he who at unknown doors
Relies on his good luck,

Fire is needed by the newcomer
Whose knees are frozen numb;

Meat and clean linen a man needs
Who has fared across the fells,

Water, too, that he may wash before eating,
Handcloth's and a hearty welcome,
Courteous words, then courteous silence
That he may tell his tale,

Who travels widely needs his wits about him,
The stupid should stay at home:
The ignorant man is often laughed at
When he sits at meat with the sage,

Of his knowledge a man should never boast,
Rather be sparing of speech
When to his house a wiser comes:
Seldom do those who are silent Make mistakes;

mother wit Is ever a faithful friend,

A guest should be courteous
When he comes to the table
And sit in wary silence,
His ears attentive,
his eyes alert:
So he protects himself,

Fortunate is he who is favoured in his lifetime
With praise and words of wisdom:
Evil counsel is often given
By those of evil heart,

Blessed is he who in his own lifetime
Is awarded praise and wit,
For ill counsel is often given
By mortal men to each other,

Better gear than good sense
A traveller cannot carry,
Better than riches for a wretched man,
Far from his own home,

Better gear than good sense
A traveller cannot carry,
A more tedious burden than too much drink
A traveller cannot carry,

Less good than belief would have it
Is mead for the sons of men:
A man knows less the more he drinks,
Becomes a befuddled fool,

I-forget is the name men give the heron
Who hovers over the fast:
Fettered I was in his feathers that night,
When a guest in Gunnlod's court

Drunk I got, dead drunk,
When Fjalar the wise was with me:
Best is the banquet one looks back on after,
And remembers all that happened,

Silence becomes the Son of a prince,
To be silent but brave in battle:
It befits a man to be merry and glad
Until the day of his death,

The coward believes he will live forever
If he holds back in the battle,
But in old age he shall have no peace
Though spears have spared his limbs

When he meets friends, the fool gapes,
Is shy and sheepish at first,
Then he sips his mead and immediately
All know what an oaf he is,
He who has seen and suffered much,
And knows the ways of the world,
Who has travelled', can tell what spirit
Governs the men he meets,
Drink your mead, but in moderation,
Talk sense or be silent:
No man is called discourteous who goes
To bed at an early hour

A gluttonous man who guzzles away
Brings sorrow on himself:
At the table of the wise he is taunted often,
Mocked for his bloated belly,

The herd knows its homing time,
And leaves the grazing ground:
But the glutton never knows how much
His belly is able to hold,

An ill tempered, unhappy man
Ridicules all he hears,
Makes fun of others, refusing always
To see the faults in himself

Foolish is he who frets at night,
And lies awake to worry'
A weary man when morning comes,
He finds all as bad as before,

The fool thinks that those who laugh
At him are all his friends,
Unaware when he sits with wiser men
How ill they speak of him.

The fool thinks that those who laugh
At him are all his friends:
When he comes to the Thing and calls for support,
Few spokesmen he finds

The fool who fancies he is full of wisdom
While he sits by his hearth at home.
Quickly finds when questioned by others .
That he knows nothing at all.

The ignorant booby had best be silent
When he moves among other men,
No one will know what a nit-wit he is
Until he begins to talk;

No one knows less what a nit-wit he is
Than the man who talks too much.

To ask well, to answer rightly,
Are the marks of a wise man:
Men must speak of men's deeds,
What happens may not be hidden.

Wise is he not who is never silent,
Mouthing meaningless words:
A glib tongue that goes on chattering
Sings to its own harm.

A man among friends should not mock another:
Many believe the man
Who is not questioned to know much
And so he escapes their scorn.
An early meal a man should take
Before he visits friends,
Lest, when he gets there,
he go hungry,
Afraid to ask for food.

The fastest friends may fall out
When they sit at the banquet-board:
It is, and shall be, a shameful thing
When guest quarrels with guest,

The wise guest has his way of dealing
With those who taunt him at table:
He smiles through the meal,
not seeming to hear
The twaddle talked by his foes.

The tactful guest will take his leave Early,
not linger long:
He starts to stink who outstays his welcome
In a hall that is not his own.

A small hut of one' s own is better,
A man is his master at home:
A couple of goats and a corded roof
Still are better than begging.

A small hut of one's own is better,
A man is his master at home:
His heart bleeds in the beggar who must
Ask at each meal for meat.

A wayfarer should not walk unarmed,
But have his weapons to hand:
He knows not when he may need a spear,
Or what menace meet on the road.

No man is so generous he will jib at accepting
A gift in return for a gift,
No man so rich that it really gives him
Pain to be repaid.

Once he has won wealth enough,
A man should not crave for more:
What he saves for friends, foes may take;
Hopes are often liars.

With presents friends should please each other,
With a shield or a costly coat:
Mutual giving makes for friendship,
So long as life goes well,
A man should be loyal through life to friends,
To them and to friends of theirs,
But never shall a man make offer
Of friendship to his foes.

A man should be loyal through life to friends,
And return gift for gift,
Laugh when they laugh,
but with lies repay
A false foe who lies.

If you find a friend you fully trust
And wish for his good-will,
exchange thoughts,
exchange gifts,
Go often to his house.

If you deal with another you don't trust
But wish for his good-will,
Be fair in speech but false in thought
And give him lie for lie.

Even with one you ill-trust
And doubt what he means to do,
False words with fair smiles
May get you the gift you desire.

To a false friend the footpath winds
Though his house be on the highway.
To a sure friend there is a short cut,
Though he live a long way off.

Hotter than fire among false hearts burns
Friendship for five days,
But suddenly slackens when the sixth dawns:
Feeble their friendship then.

The generous and bold have the best lives,
Are seldom beset by cares,
But the base man sees bogies everywhere
And the miser pines for presents.

The young fir that falls and rots
Having neither needles nor bark,
So is the fate of the friendless man:
Why should he live long?

Little a sand-grain, little a dew drop,
Little the minds of men:
A11 men are not equal in wisdom,
The half-wise are everywhere

It is best for man to be middle-wise,
Not over cunning and clever:
The fairest life is led by those
Who are deft at all they do.
It is best for man to be middle-wise,
Not over cunning and clever:
No man is able to know his future,
So let him sleep in peace.

It is best for man to be middle-wise,
Not over cunning and clever:
The learned man whose lore is deep
Is seldom happy at heart.

Brand kindles brand till they burn out,
Flame is quickened by flame:
One man from another is known by his speech
The simpleton by his silence.
Early shall he rise who has designs
On anothers land or life:
His prey escapes the prone wolf,
The sleeper is seldom victorious.

Early shall he rise who rules few servants,
And set to work at once:
Much is lost by the late sleeper,
Wealth is won by the swift,

A man should know how many logs
And strips of bark from the birch
To stock in autumn, that he may have enough
Wood for his winter fires.

Washed and fed,
one may fare to the Thing:
Though one's clothes be the worse for Wear,
None need be ashamed of his shoes or hose,
Nor of the horse he owns,
Although no thoroughbred.

As the eagle who comes to the ocean shore,
Sniffs and hangs her head,
Dumbfounded is he who finds at the Thing
No supporters to plead his case.

It is safe to tell a secret to one,
Risky to tell it to two,
To tell it to three is thoughtless folly,
Everyone else will know.

Often words uttered to another
Have reaped an ill harvest:
Two beat one, the tongue is head's bane,
Pockets of fur hide fists.

Moderate at council should a man be,
Not brutal and over bearing:
Among the bold the bully will find
Others as bold as he.

These things are thought the best:
Fire, the sight of the sun,
Good health with the gift to keep it,
And a life that avoids vice.

Not all sick men are utterly wretched:
Some are blessed with sons,
Some with friends,
some with riches,
Some with worthy works.

The halt can manage a horse,
the handless a flock,
The deaf be a doughty fighter,
To be blind is better than to burn on a pyre:
There is nothing the dead can do.

It is always better to be alive,
The living can keep a cow.
Fire, I saw, warming a wealthy man,
With a cold corpse at his door.

A son is a blessing, though born late
To a father no longer alive:
Stones would seldom stand by the highway
If sons did not set them there.

He welcomes the night who has enough provisions
Short are the sails of a ship,
Dangerous the dark in autumn,
The wind may veer within five days,
And many times in a month.

The half wit does not know that gold
Makes apes of many men:
One is rich, one is poor
There is no blame in that.

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But the good name never dies
Of one who has done well

Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But I know one thing that never dies,
The glory of the great dead

Fields and flocks had Fitjung's sons,
Who now carry begging bowls:
Wealth may vanish in the wink of an eye,
Gold is the falsest of friends.

In the fool who acquires cattle and lands,
Or wins a woman's love,
His wisdom wanes with his waxing pride,
He sinks from sense to conceit.

Now is answered what you ask of the runes,
Graven by the gods,
Made by the All Father,
Sent by the powerful sage:
lt. is best for man to remain silent.

For these things give thanks at nightfall:
The day gone, a guttered torch,
A sword tested, the troth of a maid,
Ice crossed, ale drunk.

Hew wood in wind-time,
in fine weather sail,
Tell in the night-time tales to house-girls,
For too many eyes are open by day:
From a ship expect speed, from a shield, cover,
Keenness from a sword,
but a kiss from a girl.

Drink ale by the hearth, over ice glide,
Buy a stained sword, buy a starving mare
To fatten at home: and fatten the watch-dog.

Trust not an acre early sown,
Nor praise a son too soon:
Weather rules the acre, wit the son,
Both are exposed to peril,

A snapping bow, a burning flame,
A grinning wolf, a grunting boar,
A raucous crow, a rootless tree,
A breaking wave, a boiling kettle,
A flying arrow, an ebbing tide,
A coiled adder, the ice of a night,
A bride's bed talk, a broad sword,
A bear's play, a prince' s children,
A witch' s welcome, the wit of a slave,
A sick calf, a corpse still fresh,
A brother's killer encountered upon
The highway a house half-burned,
A racing stallion who has wrenched a leg,
Are never safe: let no man trust them.

No man should trust a maiden's words,
Nor what a woman speaks:
Spun on a wheel were women's hearts,
In their breasts was implanted caprice,

To love a woman whose ways are false
Is like sledding over slippery ice
With unshod horses out of control,
Badly trained two-year-olds,
Or drifting rudderless on a rough sea,
Or catching a reindeer with a crippled hand
On a thawing hillside: think not to do it.

Naked I may speak now for I know both:
Men are treacherous too
Fairest we speak when falsest we think:
many a maid is deceived.

Gallantly shall he speak and gifts bring
Who wishes for woman's love:
praise the features of the fair girl,
Who courts well will conquer.

Never reproach another for his love:
It happens often enough
That beauty ensnares with desire the wise
While the foolish remain unmoved.

Never reproach the plight of another,
For it happens to many men:
Strong desire may stupefy heroes,
Dull the wits of the wise

The mind alone knows what is near the heart,
Each is his own judge:
The worst sickness for a wise man
Is to crave what he cannot enjoy.

So I learned when I sat in the reeds,
Hoping to have my desire:
Lovely was the flesh of that fair girl,
But nothing I hoped for happened.

I saw on a bed Billing's daughter,
Sun white, asleep:
No greater delight I longed for then
Than to lie in her lovely arms.

Come Odhinn, after nightfall
If you wish for a meeting with me:
All would be lost if anyone saw us
And learned that we were lovers.

Afire with longing I left her then,
Deceived by her soft words:
I thought my wooing had won the maid,
That I would have my way.

After nightfall I hurried back,
But the warriors were all awake,
Lights were burning, blazing torches:
So false proved the path

Towards daybreak back I came
The guards were sound asleep:
I found then that the fair woman
Had tied a bitch to her bed.

Many a girl when one gets to know her
Proves to be fickle and false:
That treacherous maiden taught me a lesson,
The crafty woman covered me with shame
That was all I got from her.

Let a man with his guests be glad and merry,
Modest a man should be
But talk well if he intends to be wise
And expects praise from men:
Fimbul fambi is the fool called
Unable to open his mouth.
Fruitless my errand, had I been silent
When I came to Suttung's courts:
With spirited words I spoke to my profit
In the hall of the aged giant.

Rati had gnawed a narrow passage,
Chewed a channel through stone,
A path around the roads of giants:
I was like to lose my head

Gunnlod sat me in the golden seat,
Poured me precious mead:
Ill reward she had from me for that,
For her proud and passionate heart,
Her brooding foreboding spirit.

What I won from her I have well used:
I have waxed in wisdom since I came back,
bringing to Asgard Odrerir,
the sacred draught.

Hardly would I have come home alive
From the garth of the grim troll,
Had Gunnlod not helped me, the good woman,
Who wrapped her arms around me.

The following day the Frost Giants came,
Walked into Har's hall To ask for Har's advice:
Had Bolverk they asked, come back to his friends,
Or had he been slain by Suttung?

Odhinn, they said, swore an oath on his ring:
Who from now on will trust him?
By fraud at the feast he befuddled Suttung
And brought grief to Gunnlod.

It is time to sing in the seat of the wise,
Of what at Urd's Well I saw in silence,
saw and thought on.
Long I listened to men
Runes heard spoken, (counsels revealed.)
At Har's hall, In Har's hall:
There I heard this.

Loddfafnir, listen to my counsel:
You will fare well if you follow it,
It will help you much if you heed it.

Never rise at night unless you need to spy
Or to ease yourself in the outhouse.

Shun a woman, wise in magic,
Her bed and her embraces:
If she cast a spell, you will care no longer
To meet and speak with men,
Desire no food, desire no pleasure,
In sorrow fall asleep.

Never seduce anothers wife,
Never make her your mistress.

If you must journey to mountains and firths,
Take food and fodder with you.

Never open your heart to an evil man
When fortune does not favour you:
From an evil man, if you make him your friend,
You will get evil for good.

I saw a warrior wounded fatally
By the words of an evil woman
Her cunning tongue caused his death,
Though what she alleged was a lie.

If you know a friend you can fully trust,
Go often to his house
Grass and brambles grow quickly
Upon the untrodden track.

With a good man it is good to talk,
Make him your fast friend:
But waste no words on a witless oaf,
Nor sit with a senseless ape.

Cherish those near you, never be
The first to break with a friend:
Care eats him who can no longer
Open his heart to another.

An evil man, if you make him your friend,
Will give you evil for good:
A good man, if you make him your friend
Will praise you in every place,

Affection is mutual when men can open
All their heart to each other:
He whose words are always fair
Is untrue and not to be trusted.

Bandy no speech with a bad man:
Often the better is beaten
In a word fight by the worse.

Be not a cobbler nor a carver of shafts,
Except it be for yourself:
If a shoe fit ill or a shaft be crooked
The maker gets curses and kicks.

If aware that another is wicked, say so:
Make no truce or treaty with foes.

Never share in the shamefully gotten,
But allow yourself what is lawful.

Never lift your eyes and look up in battle,
Lest the heroes enchant you,
who can change warriors
Suddenly into hogs,
With a good woman, if you wish to enjoy
Her words and her good will,
Pledge her fairly and be faithful to it:
Enjoy the good you are given,

Be not over wary, but wary enough,
First, of the foaming ale,
Second, of a woman wed to another,
Third, of the tricks of thieves.

Mock not the traveller met On the road,
Nor maliciously laugh at the guest:
Scoff not at guests nor to the gate chase them,
But relieve the lonely and wretched,

The sitters in the hall seldom know
The kin of the new-comer:
The best man is marred by faults,
The worst is not without worth.

Never laugh at the old when they offer counsel,
Often their words are wise:
From shrivelled skin, from scraggy things
That hand among the hides
And move amid the guts,
Clear words often come.

Heavy the beam above the door;
Hang a horse-shoe On it
Against ill-luck, lest it should suddenly
Crash and crush your guests.

Medicines exist against many evils:
Earth against drunkenness, heather against worms
Oak against costiveness, corn against sorcery,
Spurred rye against rupture, runes against bales
The moon against feuds, fire against sickness,
Earth makes harmless the floods.

Wounded I hung on a wind-swept gallows
For nine long nights,
Pierced by a spear, pledged to Odhinn,
Offered, myself to myself
The wisest know not from whence spring
The roots of that ancient rood

They gave me no bread,
They gave me no mead,
I looked down;
with a loud cry
I took up runes;
from that tree I fell.

Nine lays of power
I learned from the famous Bolthor, Bestla' s father:
He poured me a draught of precious mead,
Mixed with magic Odrerir.

Waxed and throve well;
Word from word gave words to me,
Deed from deed gave deeds to me,

Runes you will find, and readable staves,
Very strong staves,
Very stout staves,
Staves that Bolthor stained,
Made by mighty powers,
Graven by the prophetic god,

For the gods by Odhinn, for the elves by Dain,
By Dvalin, too, for the dwarves,
By Asvid for the hateful giants,
And some I carved myself:
Thund, before man was made, scratched them,
Who rose first, fell thereafter

Know how to cut them, know how to read them,
Know how to stain them, know how to prove them,
Know how to evoke them, know how to score them,
Know how to send them, know how to send them,

Better not to ask than to over-pledge
As a gift that demands a gift
Better not to send than to slay too many,

The first charm I know is unknown to rulers
Or any of human kind;
Help it is named,
for help it can give In hours of sorrow and anguish.

I know a second that the sons of men
Must learn who wish to be leeches.

I know a third: in the thick of battle,
If my need be great enough,
It will blunt the edges of enemy swords,
Their weapons will make no wounds.

I know a fourth:
it will free me quickly
If foes should bind me fast
With strong chains,
a chant that makes Fetters spring from the feet,
Bonds burst from the hands.

I know a fifth: no flying arrow,
Aimed to bring harm to men,
Flies too fast for my fingers to catch it
And hold it in mid-air.

I know a sixth:
it will save me if a man
Cut runes on a sapling' s Roots
With intent to harm;
it turns the spell;
The hater is harmed, not me.

If I see the hall
Ablaze around my bench mates,
Though hot the flames, they shall feel nothing,
If I choose to chant the spell.

I know an eighth:
that all are glad of,
Most useful to men:
If hate fester in the heart of a warrior,
It will soon calm and cure him.

I know a ninth:
when need I have
To shelter my ship on the flood,
The wind it calms, the waves it smoothes
And puts the sea to sleep,

I know a tenth:
if troublesome ghosts
Ride the rafters aloft,
I can work it so they wander astray,
Unable to find their forms,
Unable to find their homes.

I know an eleventh:
when I lead to battle Old comrades in-arms,
I have only to chant it behind my shield,
And unwounded they go to war,
Unwounded they come from war,
Unscathed wherever they are.

I know a twelfth:
If a tree bear
A man hanged in a halter,
I can carve and stain strong runes
That will cause the corpse to speak,
Reply to whatever I ask.

I know a thirteenth
if I throw a cup Of water over a warrior,
He shall not fall in the fiercest battle,
Nor sink beneath the sword,

I know a fourteenth, that few know:
If I tell a troop of warriors
About the high ones, elves and gods,
I can name them one by one.
(Few can the nit-wit name.)

I know a fifteenth,
that first Thjodrerir
Sang before Delling's doors,
Giving power to gods, prowess to elves,
Fore-sight to Hroptatyr Odhinn,

I know a sixteenth:
if I see a girl
With whom it would please me to play,
I can turn her thoughts, can touch the heart
Of any white armed woman.

I know a seventeenth:
if I sing it,
the young Girl will be slow to forsake me.

I know an eighteenth that I never tell
To maiden or wife of man,
A secret I hide from all
Except the love who lies in my arms,
Or else my own sister.

To learn to sing them, Loddfafnir,
Will take you a long time,
Though helpful they are if you understand them,
Useful if you use them,
Needful if you need them.

The Wise One has spoken words in the hall,
Needful for men to know,
Unneedful for trolls to know:

Hail to the speaker,
Hail to the knower,
Joy to him who has understood,
Delight to those who have listened.