The Raven and the Valkyrie

HRAFNSMÓL

BY THÓRBIORN HORNKLOFI

Hearken, ye ring-bearers, while of Harold I tell you, the mightily wealthy, and his manful war-deeds; words I o’erheard a maiden high-minded speaking,
golden-haired, white-armed, with a glossy-beaked raven. Wise thought her the valkyrie; were welcome never men to the bright-eyed one, her who birds’ speech knew well. Greeted the light-lashed maiden, the lily-throated woman, the Hymir’s-skull-cleaver as on cliff he was perching. “How is it, ye ravens—whence are ye come now with beaks all gory, at break of morning? Carrion-reek ye carry, and your claws are bloody. Were ye near, at night-time, where ye knew of corpses?” Shook himself the dun-hued one, and dried his beak, the eagle’s oath-brother, and of answer bethought him: “Harold we follow, Halfdan’s first-born, I the young Yngling, since out of egg we crept. “That king thou knowest, him who at Kvinnar dwelleth, the hoard-warder of North men, who has hollow war-ships with reddish ribs and with reddened war-shields, with tarred oar-blades and with tents foam-besprinkled. “Fain outside would he drink the ale at Yule-tide, the fight-loving folk-warder, and Frey’s-game play there. Even half-grown, he hated the hearthfire cozy, the warm women’s room, and the wadded down-mittens. “Hearken how the high-born one in the Hafrs-firth fought there, the keen-eyed king’s son, against Kiotvi the wealthy: came the fleet from the eastward, eager for fighting, with gaping figureheads and graven ship-prows. “They were laden with franklins and lindenshields gleaming, with Westland spearshafts and with Welsh broadswords. The berserkers bellowed as the battle opened, the wolf-coats shrieked loud and shook their weapons. “Their strength would they try, but he taught them to flee, the lord of the Eastmen who at Útstein dwelleth.
The steeds-of-Nokkvi he steered out when started the battle. Then boomed the bucklers ere a blow felled Haklang. “The thick-necked atheling behind the isle took shelter: he grew loath, against Lúfa to hold the land of his fathers. Then hid under benches, and let their buttocks stick up, they who were wounded, but thrust their heads keelward. “Their shoulders shielded the shifty heroes—were they showered with slung-shot—with the shingles-of-Gladhome. Home from Hafrs-firth hastened they eastward, fled by way of Iathar, of ale-cups thinking. “On the gravel lay the fallen, given to the one-eyed husband of Fulla; were we fain of such doings. “Of more and other things shall the maids of Ragnhild, the haughty women-folk, now have to gabble than of the heath-dwellers which Harold not ever feasted on the fallen, as their friends had done oft. “The high-born liege-lord took the lady from Denmark—broke with his Rogaland sweethearts and their sisters from Horthaland, with those from Heithmork and Hálogaland eke.” “Whether is open-handed he-who-hastens-the-battle,
to those who fend faithfully foemen from his homeland?” “With much goods are gladdened the gallant warriors, who in the hall of Harold while the time with chess-play: with much wealth he rewards them, and with well-forged broadswords, with gold from Hunland and with girls from the Eastfolks. “Most happy are they when there is hope for battle, all ready to rouse them and to row strongly, so as to snap the thongs and to sunder the thole-pins, to churn the brine briskly at the beck of their liege-lord.” “Of the skalds’ lot would I ask thee, since thou skill of that boastest: how the bards fare there thou full well knowest—they who are in Harold’s hall.” “Is seen from their raiment and their red-gold finger-rings that a kind king they have. Red fur-cloaks own they, most fairly bordered, swords wound with silver, and sarks ring-woven, gilded baldricks and graven helmets, heavy gold bracelets which Harold bestowed on them.” “Of the berserkers’ lot would I ask thee, thou who batten’st on corpses: how fare the fighters who rush forth to battle, and stout-hearted stand ’gainst the foe?” “Wolf-coats are they called, the warriors unfleeing, who bear bloody shields in battle; the darts redden where they dash into battle and shoulder to shoulder stand. ’T is men tried and true only, who can targes shatter, whom the wise war-lord wants in battle.” “Of Andath and all his ilk, too, have I asked thee but little: how fare the fiddlers, how fare the jugglers in the halls of Harold?” “His earless dog does your Andath fondle; the churl with his fool-tricks makes the folk-warder chuckle. Yet be there others who about the fire bowls of hot wine bear; their flapping fools’-caps they tuck fast in their belts—fellows you’re free to kick.”

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This was my final submission for my art exam last year, it took me roughly eight hours excluding the time it took to save it each time as well as the time it took me to export it into a jpeg file. The text accompanying the piece in the background is an old Norse poem depicting the conversation between a Valkyrie and a raven.