The House of the Wolfings
toward the downward course of Mirkwood-water; and he set the horn to his
lips, and blew a long blast, and then again, and yet again the third
time; and all the sounds of the gathering night were hushed under the
sound of the roaring of the war-horn of the Wolfings; and the Kin of the
Beamings heard it as they sat in their hall, and they gat them ready to
hearken to the bearer of the tidings who should follow on the sound of
the war-blast.
But when the last sound of the horn had died away, then said Thiodolf:
"Now Wolfing children hearken, what the splintered War-shaft saith,
The fire scathed blood-stained aspen! we shall ride for life or death,
We warriors, a long journey with the herd and with the wain;
But unto this our homestead shall we wend us back again,
All the gleanings of the battle; and here for them that live
Shall stand the Roof of the Wolfings, and for them shall the meadow
thrive,
And the acres give their increase in the harvest of the year;
Now is no long departing since the Hall-Sun bideth here
'Neath the holy Roof of the Fathers, and the place of the Wolfing kin,
And the feast of our glad returning shall yet be held therein.
Hear the bidding of the War-shaft! All men, both thralls and free,
'Twixt twenty winters and sixty, beneath the shield shall be,
And the hosting is at the Thing-stead, the Upper-mark anigh;
And we wend away to-morrow ere the Sun is noon-tide high."
Therewith he stepped down from the mound, and went his way back to the
hall; and manifold talk arose among the folk; and of the warriors some
were already dight for the journey, but most not, and a many went their
ways to see to their weapons and horses, and the rest back again into the
hall.
By this time night had fallen, and between then and the dawning would be
no darker hour, for the moon was just rising; a many of the horse-herds
had done their business, and were now making their way back again through
the lanes of the wheat, driving the stallions before them, who played
together kicking, biting and squealing, paying but little heed to the
standing corn on either side. Lights began to glitter now in the cots of
the thralls, and brighter still in the stithies where already you might
hear the hammers clinking on the anvils, as men fell to looking to their
battle gear.
But the chief men and the women sat under their Roof on the eve of
departure: and the tuns of mead were broached, and the horns filled and
borne round by young maidens, and men ate and drank and were merry; and
from time to time as some one of the warriors had done with giving heed
to his weapons, he entered into the hall and fell into the company of
those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles they
talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long house; and
the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was much laughter
and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days on the eve of
that departure: till little by little weariness fell on them, and they
went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.
CHAPTER III--THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep
thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and then
he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring,
so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so
took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.
The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the dew was
falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled sweetly:
the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound to be known
as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant meadow came the
lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white owl was flitting
about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry that sounded like the
mocking of merriment now silent.
Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the
scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees,
whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so on
and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was no
path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of the
beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there and
not feel that the roof was green above him. Still he went on in despite
of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before him, that grew
greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the turf grew again,
though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight got to it, so
close and thick were the tall trees round about it. In the heavens above
it by now there was a light that was not all of the moon, though it might
scarce be told whether that light were the memory of yesterday or the
promise of to-morrow, since little of the heavens could be seen thence,
save the crown of them, because of the tall tree-tops.
Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees, as he
strode from off the husk-strewn floor of the beech wood on to the scanty
grass of the lawn, but his eyes looked straight before him at that which
was amidmost of the lawn: and little wonder was that; for there on a
stone chair sat a woman exceeding fair, clad in glittering raiment, her
hair lying as pale in the moonlight on the grey stone as the barley acres
in the August night before the reaping-hook goes in amongst them. She
sat there as though she were awaiting someone, and he made no stop nor
stay, but went straight up to her, and took her in his arms, and kissed
her mouth and her eyes, and she him again; and then he sat himself down
beside her. But her eyes looked kindly on him as she said:
"O Thiodolf, hardy art thou, that thou hast no fear to take me in thine
arms and to kiss me, as though thou hadst met in the meadow with a maiden
of the Elkings: and I, who am a daughter of the Gods of thy kindred, and
a Chooser of the Slain! Yea, and that upon the eve of battle and the
dawn of thy departure to the stricken field!"
"O Wood-Sun," he said "thou art the treasure of life that I found when I
was young, and the love of life that I hold, now that my beard is
grizzling. Since when did I fear thee, Wood-Sun? Did I fear thee when
first I saw thee, and we stood amidst the hazelled field, we twain living
amongst the slain? But my sword was red with the blood of the foe, and
my raiment with mine own blood; and I was a-weary with the day's work,
and sick with many strokes, and methought I was fainting into death. And
there thou wert before me, full of life and ruddy and smiling both lips
and eyes; thy raiment clean and clear, thine hands stained with blood:
then didst thou take me by my bloody and weary hand, and didst kiss my
lips grown ashen pale, and thou saidst 'Come with me.' And I strove to
go, and might not; so many and sore were my hurts. Then amidst my
sickness and my weariness was I merry; for I said to myself, This is the
death of the warrior, and it is exceeding sweet. What meaneth it? Folk
said of me; he is over young to meet the foeman; yet am I not over young
to die?"
Therewith he laughed out amid the wild-wood, and his speech became song,
and he said:
"We wrought in the ring of the hazels, and the wine of war we drank:
From the tide when the sun stood highest to the hour wherein she sank:
And three kings came against me, the mightiest of the Huns,
The evil-eyed in battle, the swift-foot wily ones;
And they gnashed their teeth against me, and they gnawed on the shield-
rims there,
On that afternoon of summer, in the high-tide of the year.
Keen-eyed I gazed about me, and I saw the clouds draw up
Till the heavens were dark as the hollow of a wine-stained iron cup,
And the wild-deer lay unfeeding on the grass of the forest glades,
And all earth was scared with the thunder above our clashing blades.
"Then sank a King before me, and on fell the other twain,
And I tossed up the reddened sword-blade in the gathered rush of the
rain
And the blood and the water blended, and fragrant grew the earth.
"There long I turned and twisted within the battle-girth
Before those bears of onset: while out from the grey world streamed
The broad red lash of the lightening and in our byrnies gleamed.
And long I leapt and laboured in that garland of the fight
'Mid the blue blades and the lightening; but ere the sky grew light
The second of the Hun-kings on the rain-drenched daisies lay;
And we twain with the battle blinded a little while made stay,
And leaning on our sword-hilts each on the other gazed.
"Then the rain grew less, and one corner of the veil of clouds was
raised,
And as from the broidered covering gleams out the shoulder white
Of the bed-mate of the warrior when on his wedding night
He layeth his hand to the linen; so, down there in the west
Gleamed out the naked heaven: but the wrath rose up in my breast,
And the sword in my hand rose with it, and I leaped and hewed at the
Hun;
And from him too flared the war-flame, and the blades danced bright in
the sun
Come back to the earth for a little before the ending of day.
"There then with all that was in him did the Hun play out the play,
Till he fell, and left me tottering, and I turned my feet to wend
To the place of the mound of the mighty, the gate of the way without
end.
And there thou wert. How was it, thou Chooser of the Slain,
Did I die in thine arms, and thereafter did thy mouth-kiss wake me
again?"
Ere the last sound of his voice was done she turned and kissed him; and
then she said; "Never hadst thou a fear and thine heart is full of
hardihood."
Then he said:
"'Tis the hardy heart, beloved, that keepeth me alive,
As the king-leek in the garden by the rain and the sun doth thrive,
So I thrive by the praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and
my meat;
As I slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet;
And through the chamber window when I waken in the morn
With the wind of the sun's arising from the meadow is it borne
And biddeth me remember that yet I live on earth:
Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart with mirth,
As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth
therein."
"Yea," she said, "but day runneth ever on the heels of day, and there are
many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry eld."
"Yet art thou no older than in days bygone," said he. "Is it so, O
Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born, but wert from before the
framing of the mountains, from the beginning of all things?"
But she said:
"Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may be indeed
That not on the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead's seed.
And e'en as my birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end.
But thou on many an errand, to many a field dost wend
Where the bow at adventure bended, or the fleeing dastard's spear
Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty. Now me thou dost not fear,
Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I fear;
And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid
And even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid."
But he laughed and said:
"In what land is she abiding? Is she near or far away?
Will she draw up close beside me in the press of the battle play?
And if then I may not smite her 'midst the warriors of the field
With the pale blade of my fathers, will she bide the shove of my
shield?"