by Brett Rutherford
The first I fought,
a trial hard won.
I left him staggering.
Upon me came
the second one.
Strong he, I fell.
"Well have you done
in honor's way
and strength of arms.
"Sex," then, he said,
"you must endure.
This have I earned."
At it we went.
As he was fair,
it pleasant was.
Upright again
he laughed and said,
"Home must we go,
"a round to drink
in Mother's house
not far from here."
"Her name?" I asked.
"Hela she is,
the dead her realm."
"Cold fare, dim light,
struggles by night,
grim brotherhood.
"Queen of cold wastes,
she waits for thee.
We brothers two
shall now be three."
