Read House of the Wolfings: The William Morris Book that Inspired J. R. R. Tolkiena *s The Lord of the Rings for Free Online Page A

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?

    But sadly she sang in answer:

    In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth
day nor night:
    The rim of the bowl she