After Væmoth stand these runes, but Varin his father carved them after his death-doomed son.
I tell to youth what were the two spoils that were taken twelve times as booty, both together, from one man after another.
This I tell, as the second, who nine generations ago invaded our coast with his Hreith-Goths and dies with them for his aggression.
Thiaurik the brave viking chief was lord over the Hreith-Sea shore. Now, equipped, he sits on his steed, his shield strapped, prince of the Maerings.
Sibi, gaurd of the sanctuary, begot offspring at the age of ninety.
I tell to youth for whom an heir is born.
To avenge a young hero he is born.
That is still the intention.
He knew how to slay the giant.
That is still the intention.
Good may come of it.
This I tell, as the twelfth, where the Valkyrie´s horse shall find feed on the battlefield where twenty kings lie.
This I tell, as the thirteenth, who were the kings who dwelt on Sjælland for four winters, known by four names, sons of four brothers.
They were Valki and his four brothers, sons of Rathulf, Hraithulf and his four brothers, sons of Rugulf, Haisl and his four brothers, sons of Haruth, Kunmund and his four brothers, sons of Björn.
Now I am fostering a youth who may himself decide who requires revenge.

I say to youth: be bold.

© 2000 Hringari Oðinssen