O! thou whose will
helmeth the fortunes of battle-errantry,
and in whose hand
await all they who have fallen,
I beseech thee hearken now unto mine orison.
Well I wot such tokens as are meet
for a sage warrior to mind
when come is the day of sweeping swords,
and what shall best fend helm-rends and cleaving
when faring through the press of foemen.
Do [...]

Snow lies upon the firth, thin cotton coverlet
that fading is swiftly replaced. Languid
looping waves, in dark beauty more majestic
than the curls of any raven-haired
maiden-child of proud kings, endlessly track
near and away. Wind-driven they, from out
the high-timbered sea-temple, warm life-breath
of the Tiller-Guide in gentle whisper easing
the aging winter to his yearly sleep.
Lights on the water, sparkling [...]

In the morn I rise betimes,
ere day’s red fingers
paint the heavens.
Within my hut there is
warmth,
and there is
comfort
in the arms of my woman,
but I rise nonetheless; I
gird my blade about me
and I step out of doors.
It is crisp, and
the night-breeze is
bitter as it departs,
for it is not yet Spring,
and my chest is bare.
I have sons, strong [...]

Clear my eyes, sapphire lights of ice.
The sound of my voice is a
whetting,
a sharpening of notched sverð-blades
amid the piercing
hiss
of new-woven iron and steel.
I am lowly,
handmaiden that I am,
with cup and trencher to serve.
I am high,
for my sight has pierced the sky,
the twin azure in my glance
returned by a single grey.
I am beautiful,
hair of a wheat-field [...]

Skellann and Rothaar and Haga and Lan
Rode on to the field at the head of the van.
Carven was eagle in bloody the dawn -
Alföðr now on to the field he was gone.
Lan of the valleys a broad-spjót he wore,
Fair Haga the slender a battle-bow bore,
Rothaar an axe of which blades there were twain;
And long-sverð of [...]

The brown-robed men came some months ago.
Whence they fared to our shores
we knew not.
But up they drew,
birlinn low in our silver-tipped firth
that eyes blinked to see alongside
swift snekkja and doughty drekkar
as if at home.
Traders they must be, else slaves of some lord,
escaped,
clad as they were neither in
bright brynja nor
studded spangenhelm;
bearing not blades but staves.
Welcomed we [...]

 
HERE THERE BE MONSTERS:
A Critical Review of The Dark Knight
2008, Aaron Chandler
 
Aragorn said naught in answer, but he took the other’s eye and held it, and for a moment they strove thus; but soon, though Aragorn did not stir nor move hand to weapon, the other quailed and gave back as if menanced with a [...]