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~ By Courtesy of Others ~


Beaduhild at evening brings
Ale and bread to the broken man
(For pity's sake- or so she says).
Looking away from ruined limbs,
She lightly gossips of local scandal
And yesterday's weather to Weland Smith.
(Can she know how close he watches,
Tracking her form with flaming eyes?)

Weland sweats at the white-hot forge
In endless labor, easeless rage.
From time to time she comes to talk
(To pass an idle hour- that's all).
The hammer rises- she watches his hands,
She studies his face- the hammer strikes.
Bright leaps the fire at bellows' urging,
Brighter the embers that burn in her eyes.


All have heard what happened then -
Who knows truth save two alone?

Ann Groa Sheffield                 Click here for Groa's notes for Beaduhild

-First published in Asatru Today-

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