Hjaðningavíg - The Paternal Accounts
Dáinsleif — King Hogni’s Account
I chased after the Prince
A thief after my daughter’s hand
He saw her gifts, her mind, her magic
He desired her, but she is not his
I arrived on white sands
Marked by stones and trinkets
That the Prince had stolen from me
But none more precious than her
I set up camp, my men stand strong
She is in there, that palace miles off
But the Prince, wretched thief
Approaches my horde — drawing his sword
He warns not to strike
I warn him to return what is mine
The Thief laughs, wretched laughter
He points his blade and demands combat
My men and I charge him
His men and he resist
I smell the odor of iron
Blades and blood splattered
And as the moon falls on the beach
My sweet daughter returns
She flicks her wrist and the dead fade
Their corpses turned to stones
I approach her, but she sees me not
She warns the stones will rise again
And departs wearing a grin
She fades back to the far off palace
And as she promised, the dead rise
Returned as if they had never been slain
I draw my blade once more
Preparing again for great war
And the cycle continues
Repeating until the bell tolls
Repeating with her cruel smile
I draw my sword again, repeating it all
I do not hate the Thief anymore
I draw my sword once again
I do not hate his many men
But my blade does not rest
Cruelest of Daughters — Princess Hildr’s Account
You’re a cruel witch!
That’s what he said to me
That idiot in a crown
It’s no wonder he does, though
He fights on his own soil
Endlessly, endlessly, endless
Dying and reviving at my whim
And tonight he falls again
He falls, he falls, he falls
But I don’t let him rest
Rise again to face his death
For your insolent crime
Blessed with gifts, mind, and magic
That’s why he came to me
The Fool stole me because I was rare
But he did not know I had another talent
Grudge
An aptitude for it at that
My wrath can’t be satiated
I will make him bleed more
But I have not the might
Grudge
But my father, dotting kin
Arrives on these beaches
And I know he will do just fine
I know he will slay the Fool
His enchanted iron, cursed blade
Cuts, slashes, slices, plagues
My father remains powerful
A great pawn to hurt the Fool
It hurts him, I know that
But he will forgive me
He cried when I left him
I know he’ll forgive me
Grudge
He draws his blade again
And I watch from my ball
Comfortable in the Fool’s halls
As my father slays his men
Death stains white sands
As my own blood, my dear father
Spills onto the beaches below
But he will rise again
Under the moonlight
Everything grows quiet
Everything grows still
Husks of warriors solidify
But they will not remain
They will be restored again
And that Fool will pay
My father will forgive me
Grudge
I don’t know when
But I think I forgot him
The Fool dies daily now
But the joy does not hit me
How long have I been
Seated in this palace?
Watching Hela’s dance
Watching blood spill
Father, my dear father
I see it in your eyes
You hate not your enemies
You hate not his court
The Fool is not your target
Your wrath holds on
But if not for him, then who?
I come down to the beach
In the calm, still night
And approach your camp
I find you in your tent
And you speak not to me
I see it in your eyes
And I should have known it
I was given this gift
And clearly it was from you
Grudge
Your blade seeks blood
But you hold it back
And warn me not to return
Until I lift my curse
I return to the palace
Return to the Fool
He is alive tonight
But he won’t be tomorrow
I return to my chamber
Unable to face you now
For I must hold him here
My grudge, pointless grudge
Will burn eternal.
