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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
The Song of Tyrfing
1. The sun did sink; | Sigrlami was hunting,
pursuing through woods deep and dark,
a full swift hart | the hunter chased,
his followers had fallen behind.
2. A stone he saw, | sitting by it two dwarves,
masters of creative crafts.
He came with a knife, | calling the dwarves,
He had them, they couldn't hide.
3. "Dvalin and Durin," | spoke the dwarves, of their names,
"What must we do not to die?"
"Fashion a sword | of finest edge,
the grip and guard of gold.
4. "Bite iron like cloth | but never rust,
victory in every battle bring:
These are my terms, | take them or die;
make the battle-leek born."
5. So the earth-crafters did work, | ever they
worked,
Sigrlami would soon return.
A date had been set, | or so fate they would meet;
and Sigrlami was away for a while.
6. When the king of Gardariki | came back to the dwarves
he demanded the dealer of death;
the finest sword, | fullest example of art
was handed to the ring-giver rightly.
7. But a curse was declared | courageously there
by the dwarves as they escaped their end.
Sigrlami swung | the sword at them
as they retreated into the rock from his rage.
8. "When blood-worm is drawn | it will slay a man
and all who are damaged will die.
Three terrible deeds | shall Tyrfing cause,
and thy kin shall ravens receive!"
© Angantyr