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This is the saga of the Sea War,
Gàlmr's saga here I skald you.
Grimly granite-visaged Gàlmr,
Heard he out the fearsome missive.
Stony-silence stoked his wrath flames
as he pictured what he heard there:
Fire fed fat upon the roof-trees,
Raiders' booty-laden longships,
Homes and hearths now wrecked with havoc,
Fjarska's women, captive, weeping.
From the festive, feasting long-hall
Called he out his graybeard council.
"Haughty Han the Handsome harries
South our borderlands with longships.
Steely sharp-tongued is this self-skald.
I would that he taste our sword-steel.
First Han's foray, then Treve follows.
The first but does his master's will.
Sharp the spear-point stings our southland,
Poised is it to pierce our home's breast.
Forgal, fast-blade, raise my army,
Rally them on Hidden Mountain.
Fill the foemen's forlorn graveyard,
Turn his warriors to Hel's thrallmen.
Kane with courage sharp as sword-edge,
Take ten from among my huskarls.
Harry ye the handsome Han's men,
Hold them hard-fought 'til I come there.
Bind them by their wispy whiskers,
Haughty Han's fell sea-ringed raiders."
Spoke thus granite-visaged Gàlmr,
Setting loose the wolves of war.
Grim-faced Gàlmr's gallant farmers,
Mounted dragons on their ships' prows.
Put aside their ploughs and ploughshares,
Sharpened axes and their sword blades.
Their swan-breasted ships swept southward.
Lashed they ocean with their dragons.
Cruel crashed the curled sea surge.
Oaken keels they ploughed the sea foam.
Lunged they from their longships, beaching.
Toward the mountain rally bonfires.
Thorbrandr, two-sword, shunned he roundshield.
His swords sought to shatter skulls.
Anton, arse-break, armed his minions,
Answered he his pledgedman's vowing.
Warrior who would feed the war-wolves.
Olaf, twice-jarl, came to battle.
Richard, steel-crease, rife with rancor,
Came he with his vengeful weapon.
Bedford, princely ballocks-breaker,
Wielded he a sword of slaughter.
West wind wore the dusty war cloud.
Which toward mountain saw they coming.
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Who from westlands was upon them?
Answer sought they from the rune bones.
North and eastward hied they hither.
Ansteorra's reckless horsemen.
Feeder of the famished ravens,
Feasting on the piled-high corpses,
Inman, Ansteorran iron-hand,
Came with host for friendship's due.
Faithful friend to Gàlmr's father,
Love, not treaty, drove him forward.
"Heard we how a host did harry,
Raiding, raping, on your border.
Friends are we to fight your foemen.
Come are we to reed the ravens.
On the morrow from the mountain
Grim-faced Gàlmr glowered upon them.
Foemen foraging the valley,
Raiders from the southlands come there.
Granite-visaged Gàlmr gathered,
Straightway sent his army forward.
Trod they toward the twisted caltrop,
Toward the foemen's battle banner.
"We are Gàlmr of Atlantia,"
Quoth the king, he in the forefront.
"Be ye gone or be ye battled.
This is our land, gift-to-Odin."
Puzzlement poised on their faces,
'Til their leader strode he forward.
"Hadi's hold we long to harry.
Is this not Meridies?"
Granite-visaged Gàlmr growled,
Shook his head a mighty "nay!"
Took they hold of hapless helmsman.
"East, not west, you sailed us, dung-head!"
Turned they back to grim-faced Gàlmr,
Counting up the wergeld, mounting.
"Mayhaps we have made mistake here,
We are merchants come to trade."
Grim-faced Gàlmr, grim no longer,
Grinned he from one ear to other.
"Such a shame, you came to sell here.
We were looking for a good fight.
Who the better to be blooded
Than a new-found band of friends?"
Dusk had dappled day with darkness
'Ere the friendly fight was finished.
Victor, vanquished, in the Valhall,
Feasted they on friendship's flavor.
This the saga of the Sea War,
Called the Sea Raid by our foemen.
If this matches not your memory,
More's the pity -- matters not.
Warrior's make they piles of corpses,
But the skalds make history.
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