The Lay Of The Mewlithers.

"The wakener of law-wrong shall nowise meseemeth This winter that waneth lay blood-wite on me, For yonder is Arnkel, and there, as my hope is, My life-warden liveth all praise-worth to win. Might I come but to Vermund and fare with the feeder Of the flame of the God of the field where the corpses Lie fallen in slaughter, then surely for me Might Hugin's son feed fat on field of the slain."

Thorarin answered: "Need enough there will be of the help of both before the end of the case; but we must first lay our trust in Vermund."

So that same day rode all those who had been at the slaying east along the firths, and came to Bearhaven in the evening, and went in just when men were gotten to their seats. Vermund greets them, and straightway gives up the high-seat to Thorarin, and when they had sat them down, then Vermund asked for tidings. Then Thorarin sang:

"To the stems of the sword-storm full clear shall my tale be: But let each hold his peace in meanwhile of the telling, For surely methinketh the Gods of the iron May look for the arrow-play soon to be seen. Ye shall wot of the war-stems the wielders of shield, In what wise of law they dealt with me duly; How the arm of the Lady, the hand's reed down-hanging In that tide I beheld with the blood reddened over."

"It was e'en at my house that they held me in battle, Those Gods of the glaive that my life were waylaying; The light of the roar of the battle was biting The watcher that warded the way of the spear. So then to the dwarf-folk of Odin so did we That scant was the dealing of ruth that we dealt them: And little indeed then the lust lay upon me To let lull the sword-play wherein we were playing."

"I had to ward off me the wife of the Goddess Who under the battle-cloud slaughtered men chooseth; The blood drifted over the oar of the wounding, And great gain had the raven of corpses new-gotten, When the chisel of wounding white-shining, clean-whetted, Went whirring in war-play all over the helm That hangs on the head of the son of my father, And the brooks of the blood-wave ran over the holm."

"Spaemaids of the man-mote where heavily roareth The thunder of war-choosers over the mead, The sharp-biting maidens, the peril of war-helms, That season were singing aloud round my shield. When the hollow-wrought sun-disc that Frodis' arm holdeth With blood was bedrifted before the ring's lord, When the river of Gioll all uprisen was waxing With the flood-tide of weapons wide over the fields."

"Yea, methought at the last all that word of the witing I drave off indeed when I fell unto dealing With the son of the war-god that wieldeth in war The bitter-sharp scathe of the board of the battle, Since alow lies the deft one, well learned in the driving Of Rakni's dear horses; and now whatsoever The lucky of life to his playmate may tell, The ravens are tearing their meat from sword-wielders."

"O shearer of shards from the wildfire of Odin, Many hard words of hatred I look to be hearing, It was e'en in such wise that at Enni I showed them That I wotted full well how to make the wolf merry. But the stems of the blood that is blessed for the Gods, E'en they who entangle the thrums of the law-court, Gave out that my hand hewed the goddess of weaving; Those confounders of justice to fighting they egged me."

"Yea verily Nail got all corpse-goslings victual In a fashion most pitiful, passing belief; For the wont to the weight of the labour that weareth, The craven, betook him full fast to the fell. But Alfgeir becoifed with the war-helm was keener, And into the weapon-song brisker he wended. There flared out the flame of the fight for a season, As it rushed in its fury o'er battle-fain men."

"He that heedeth the path of the spear in the battle Ran away from the fight, and he wept as he wended; Unto him as he ran there, that warder of war-mask, Nowise good was the hope of his getting him peace. And so it betided that he, the grief-scenting, The mare-driver, e'en for a sea-leap was minded; He that round about goeth the beer-stoups to offer, His heart held to nought but the blenching from battle."

"Thou shalt rule all," said Thorarin, and when they were off and on their way he sang:

"O Vermund, O wealth-tree, yet will we remember How oft and oft over erewhile we were merry, In the days ere my heart drave me on to encompass The death of the warrior that wafted the gold. O goddess of linen, to this am I looking In fear lest I be but a laughing-stock only To the thane, the keen-hearted; loth am I to catch Fresh rain of the shields reddened over with battle."

Now these, Vermund and Thorarin, rode unto Lairstead, and Arnkel greeted them well, and asked for tidings. Quoth Thorarin:

"Ah, fearsome to think of the storm that fell on us, And the rain of the ravens: wine round my abode; Flared the flame that provideth the mouthful of Munin As it rushed in its wrath o'er the men of the foe; When the light-gleaming lime of the moon of the vikings, Whereas in the battle-mote men were a-meeting, Bit the limbs of the tribesmen that lift up the sword, And right through the peace-shrine of Hogni it pierced them."

Said Thorarin:

"They that gather the gain of the snowdrift abiding Where high up on the ness the hawk sitteth eager, Have called me peace-fain of the folk of aforetime; The hinderer the hopler of hatred was I. But oft, as the saw saith, from out of calm weather The rain cometh rushing all over the earth. So let the fair land of the light that wrist beareth, Who longeth for long life this word of mine hearken."

"It is meet," said Vermund, "that I should help Thorarin all I may, none the less though thou be the foremost to deal him aid."

Then said Arnkel: "It is my rede that we sit all of us together hard by Snorri the Priest through the winter."

So did they, and Arnkel had a throng of men about him that winter; but Vermund was at Bearhaven or with Arnkel turn and turn about. Thorarin kept ever the same mood, and was mostly silent; but Arnkel was a stately housekeeper and exceeding blithesome, and he deemed it ill if others were not ever joyous as was he, and often he spoke to Thorarin that he should be merry and fearless. "I have been told that the widow at Frodis-water staves off her sorrow well, and laughable will it seem to her if thou bearest thine ill." Thorarin sang:

"The fair-tripping widow shall nowise bewite me Of fear-fulfilled mood, as she sitteth ale-merry Though soothly I wot that the raven was glutted, And his maw stuffed with meat of the corpses of men. And now is hard hatred midst manfolk befallen, And the hawk of the corpses in time that is coming Groweth glad of his gettings, and gladdened shall be By the hard play of sword-dew that hangeth about us."

"The war-shields' upholders give out for the hearkening That for me shall be dealt out the lot from the dooming Of war-beset wandering wide over the land, (So now reach we for rede from the hands of the mighty,) Unless Arnkel, who winneth the praise of the people, For a man of all menfolk my blood-feud upholdeth; And therefore it is that full truly I trust me In that warder of wizardry sung o'er the war-mask."