Standing guard at the edge of the Unknown,
among and before dancing lights that call forlorn.
From the void casted throne fare the thorny cone.
O! Fyr what I feel, alas, I pine for thine morn.

The post Ode to Fyr appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

Carrying the Crested Shields,
Searching for friendly Pyre
To find rest and set out to roam.

Within the lands of shadows,
Where no human mind dares to venture,
There they roam the cursed lands.

Sons and Daughters of the Rose
Lost to fights centuries old, but together.
Searching to return to golden sands.

The post Far from the Golden Fields… appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

Time has come for her
To rest, sleep and dream…
As the minstrel sings
Sweet lullaby to her soul.

The water is deep
A long way for her ahead,
But the Sun will rise
Once again…

The Fox was laid to rest
Under the guarding gaze
Of Great Mountains,
May they stand forever,

Watching over her.
There she lies,
Under sweet waters
Of the Lakes.

Her closed eyes,
Which once mirrored
Stars within night sky,
As cold water embraces.

Laid to rest under Tears,
Like the Sun, who sinks
under the ocean waves.
She too rests, under Lakes.

The sweet drops welcomed her,
It rained for her that day.
All who wept, seek refuge
Under her shining soul.

The post Lay of the Fox appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

The World was born by the Dawn
Melted, formed and forged.
Moons to dance were drawn
On skies by mystic stars gorged.

This was the Era of Creation,
O’ magic and melody of souls…
This was the age of formation,
Great dances performed sole.

Time never existed,
Lands have never been divided,
Fates yet to be twisted.
Where sweet melody guided…

For great Worlds were created,
From burning, sparkling dance…
And ancient elements mated,
Oceans and lands, ensued thence…

From the Blacksmith’s material, silver of springs,
Tiny drops of light, with life whereabouts…
By sweet spring’s caress, what the water brings,
With soil arisen from the dance, life sprouts.

The post Myth of the Ancient Forge appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

She wept for her lost love,
Granting her own life to others.
From those sprung foxglove.
From golden lakes emerged mothers.

She wept for her tormented life…
Her past haunted her…
Betrayed and left alone to strife.
But, her tears make them blur.

Evil nature came to find,
The Hunter hurt her,
Sorrow in her heart he twined…
She found shelter under myrrh.

There she hid and from whence watched…
The constellations of the distant stars.
There she wondered what was botched,
And healed, then myrrh became her bars.

By her tears…
The great lakes were created.
By her tears…
Fragile Hope awaited.

Child of the glowing Sun,
Of parents doomed to serve…
The never ending Prison of the One.
The gift of curse to fulfil the Oeuvre.

Whom, she is crying under the night skies.
The Fox who ran and ran…
Wry were the tears of her silver eyes.
But light were in them, where lakes rise!

The post Her Tears… appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

Free and careless,
Lady of the Forest,
Her eyes tearless.
Hers was the Forest.

Beautiful was she,
Untamed soul,
Strong was she,
But burning like coal…

In her eyes,
You could see,
The tears of skies,
The flaming tree…

She missed her love,
So lonely,
The skies pained above,
For her only.

Hers was the Forest,
She howled,
Cried for the Forest,
She howled.

Yet no answer came…
Pain was in her amber eyes,
Her soul set aflame…
For her cried the skies…

There she stood,
With a burning soul,
There she stood,
Burning like coal.

Yet she endured,
Tamed the flames,
She was cured,
With her own flames.

Her beautiful soul,
Her golden heart,
The burning coal,
The amber heart.

Her amber eyes,
Crying for love,
Raining skies,
Weeping above.

Swift she was,
Running through in her forest,
Strong she was,
Chasing in her forest…

Amber eyes
And amber fur,
Under the skies
None opposed her.

Untamed beauty,
Amber heart,
Calling duty,
Of the Forest’s Heart.

She protected,
Her own domain,
Undetected…
Till she broke her chain.

There she stood,
With her tamed flames,
There she stood,
Enduring the pains…

She has risen above,
Her own mistakes,
But she could not fall in love,
For she cried lakes…

Her amber heart,
Her amber soul,
The lonely part,
Of her beautiful soul…

The post The Fox appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

The War of the Gods.
No mere mortal could stand,
But Uthred had the favour of odds.
For he was neither god nor mortal…

He was born far north,
Beliy Bereg was it called.
Son to a holy priestess,
He grew up fatherless.

A blessing he was,
To a lonely mother,
Who had no lover,
Given by the gods.

On a dark day,
Raiders form the Bereg,
Whom sailed under fog of grey,
To ambush the village of Beliy Bereg.

Warriors were slaughtered,
The raiders pillaged, murdered and raped.
The chapel was stained,
The village was flamed.

Little Uthred was taken,
He was slave among many,
Working in the pits and mills.
But he has not forsaken…

He grew up to be strong,
Mighty, the biggest of many.
He worked to flee all along,
Thus he crushed the jailor’s skull.

Uthred was captured,
Chained and hauled,
The chief of Skavír was raptured.
For he was merciful,

Uthred was thrown in the arena,
To fight for the chief,
To amuse, to battle in the arena.
He won so many times for the chief,

Bringing him glory and gold,
They gave him training, women,
And all sort of reward.
He had everything but freedom…

The Clan of Skavír saw kin,
The chief saw a weapon in him.
They took Uthred into their ranks,
But Uthred has never forgave.

He sailed and raided with them,
He even rivalled the chief.
And on one marked day,
He put his ax onto the skull of Skavír.

Uthred took the skull of his foe,
It was a trophy wore on the pauldron.
But in a way to foreshadow,
The fate of those who crossed him.

The clan did not see it as a betrayer
He was a usurper,
But this was the way of the clan.
The stronger always leads the clan.

He had not taken the mantle,
Left the clan to fight among themselves.
Returned to the Bereg,
But only found ruins there…

He grew strong during the ages.
Now seeking destiny,
To rival his father,
The God of War.

He did not know the truth,
At the time, of whose son he is.
But he never sought it.
He wanted to forge his own path.

He arrived to Bjorn,
House of Jarl Pactur.
A giant held the hold in terror.
No one dared to challenge.

But Uthred was no coward!
“I fight for reward!”
He said proudly.
The jarl promised generously.

It was more than enough,
To make him fight.
He journeyed to Skullberg,
To find the giant of the berg.

They called the monster
“Bonegrinder”.
For bones he milled,
And soups he filled.

Uthred entered the giant’s cave.
Found him awake.
Quarrelled they for hours,
But glory is ours.

So that I can sing,
A saga about a hero,
Whom emerged from the ring.
Folk’ sang about the hero.

It was as thou might think.
He dragged the torso down,
The jarl invited Uthred for a drink.
Pactur was so relieved, almost swown.

The Jarl of Bjorn paid in gold,
And entitled Uthred,
In his hour of blindfold,
The thane of Bjorn.

Since that day we know him,
Utherd of Bjorn.
But your fate was ever grim.
O’ thane of Bjorn.

This was the legend
Of the slayer of the giant.
Thou might think ‘tis the end of it,
But this was merely the beginning…

He skinned the giant,
And wore his ribcage as armour.
Utherd took a part form his enemies,
And wore them as trophies.

It made him look fearful,
Less and less dared to challenge him.
He was a fearless bounty hunter
All knew his name.

He wore the hide of a bear,
A once mighty bear.
The Terror of Skald Vale.
Uthred defeated the Men-eating beast,

Killed it with his bare hands.
No mortal could match him.
He worked for kings, jarls and clans.
It mattered not until he got the gold of his.

But as time passed,
Ages, centuries went by,
People started to forgot his legend.
Even his name…

Utherd seemed to not age,
His hair and beard greyed,
But his body never weakened.
He killed everything that ever crawled,

Or walked, or flown at one time
Or another.
But he could not find his destiny.
Only death…

Sometimes he found love,
In women’s arms,
Sometimes more, other times less.
Let me tell you a secret,

In the ports of Christiania,
Dirty tongues say,
Uthred even bedded,
Gertrude the Fair.

The High King was in rage,
He ordered his death,
But Uthred yet unable to die,
Just got banished, never to return.

Gods test those who are worthy,
And it was not different,
An ancient white stag appeared,
And Uthred hunted it, chased it.

Only the strongest have the honour,
Of slaying a White Stag.
He took the stag’s indestructible skull,
And a branch form the World Tree.

He crafted a weapon from them.
A mighty weapon fitting…
Fitting even a demigod.
One that can challenge them.

He was summoned,
By the God of War.
The sound of drumming,
And the smell of roasted boar

Filled the great halls.
There his father has greeted Uthred.
Uthred heard the calls,
Yet he was ignorant.

His rage and hatred was unending.
Wanted to be part of nothing,
He defied the will of Gods,
He turned his back on the Gods.

They let him suffer,
They let his mother suffer,
They just watched,
Never acted.

And now,
Despite all of this,
The Gods wanted him to bow,
Wanted his help after all of this.

He refused…
This enraged the Gods.
In his rage,
His father laid a curse upon Uthred.

“You are to wear this mask
‘Till time’s end.
May ‘tis remind thy task.
A skull to hide thyself,

A mask of skull,
May none ever see your face again,
Let ‘tis be a pledge of my will,
Thy endless pain.”

“I will never bend my knee.”
This was his curse.
And it was meant for ever.
At the end, to force…

When he will set foot,
In the halls of great,
He will fulfil what wroot,
The role given to weight.

He wanders ever since,
Never removing his mask.
Searching for a way,
So he may forge his own fate.

To drop the weights,
Which he never asked for.
To find peace,
In our gods forsaken world.

This was the song
Of a hero,
Of one who were strong,
About Uthred of Bjorn.

He denied the will,
Of none others than Gods.
Bearing a curse,
Making it his pride.

Most of us have forgotten him,
His legend lost to the ages.
But he never forgot his fate of grim,
His saga never to written on pages…

Sing the song
Of a long lost traveller,
O the old thane of Bjorn
So he will come back.

I have heard the rumours,
I have seen the signs, blessed,
Some say he wanders,
Ever since, ever unrest…

The post Saga of Uthred appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

There stood a lonely,
Ever blooming tree…
With one flower only.
Glowing just a wee.

It possessed a little soul,
Of one’s whom long gone.
A little droplet to make the land whole.
To wake the spirits, to see dawn…

‘Tis the tree of the Moon,
Of the Goddess who watches,
Who roams the endless dune…
In nothing but swatches…

Torn from her realm,
She chose herself,
To lead, to be the last helm,
To pass into the book on the shelf…

The Goddess of The Moon,
She, whom refused to be chained,
Sang the ancient rune!
‘O she who pained…

She was loving,
She was caring…
The embers are glowing,
Forever in her caring heart…

So she wept her gold-en tears,
For her lover whom left long ago,
To fight the war o’… passing years…
Just to feel the cold of the snow…

She wept, she wept,
Her golden tears of sorrow,
There she wept, there she wept,
Where warriors found morrow…

O’ the tears,
Her golden tears,
Just became
Beautiful flame…

Once settled,
Those became ambers.
To suit the Wind, whom’ nettled.
Her golden tears became ambers…

Those ambers were keys,
To gates of Ancients,
To realms of green trees,
To the world of the gods…

When she fled,
Those unbearable chains,
She didn’t look back,
Just to run ahead…

Her wolves do come,
After every battle,
To bring their prey,
Souls of the dead, their cattle…

Her wolves bring them home,
Her wolves help them cross,
To save them from the roam,
To help them across!

In ev-ery inn,
Fires dance,
As it has always been
To give a chance.

Those wolves,
Who gather around,
The ancient tree,
Who gather to redeem themselves…

She chose this place,
To gather her children.
The Moon ends the Chase,
But she remains hidden…

The Birch still stands,
Up until this day…
Long forgotten lands,
Have become gray…

Fair was the day,
When the mistress roamed,
Back there was no gray,
Because there she roamed.

She still cares,
Forever loves,
To sing her tears
To those she loves.

With open arms,
She welcomes us,
After we laid down arms,
When Death Comes for us…

After the last battle…
She lulls us into the endless sleep,
So we do not face it alone,
So we do not die alone…

So we may not fear death,
That’s why we fight,
To never turn away,
But to be wise…

Let the flames dance,
Let the night fall,
Catch the glance
And heed the call!

Moon

This is how the Birch stands,
As a symbolic sign,
Of the Goddess,
Of the Ancient Moon…
Who watches over us,
And that is why we fight…
To find Honour in ‘our ways!

The post Legend of the Birch appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.

It was no battle, but a massacre. Yet the warrior survived… Sought refuge in the forest, at the root of a great tree. He was wounded, bleeding. Suddenly it started snowing; slowly the forest and the warrior got covered in white snow…

The warrior woke up. He was weak. Upon opening his eyes he got stunned, by the sight.

A fox was standing in front of him, just looking at him. It still snowed…

“You are the fox from my dream… Did you come to help me?”

The fox looked away, maybe it wanted the warrior to follow.

“I can not get up, I am too weak. It is my punishment for fleeing the battlefield, to die here, miserably.”

He tried to reach out, to pet the little fox, but it was too far away. He tried and tried, but he was proven too weak. He started to accept his fate. Tried to call out to the fox.

“Come here please, help me…”

But it was just standing there and looking. And the snowfall did not seem to come to an end…

“Come here please… Let me hug you, let me feel your warmth… A little comfort at the end… Please do not deny it from me…”

Then the fox turned and ran away…

“No! Please no! Where are you going? …”

The warrior started to give up on the little creature.

Hours have passed. The snow started to fully cover the dying man. But then something happened…

“You are back…”

Said the warrior with his last glimpse of hope. He was near to the gates of an other world. But the fox has returned. And got something for the warrior. Slowly it approached the man. In its mouth there was a rabbit. It brought food to the dying man, so he can get back his strength. The fox gave it to him and lay on him to keep him warm, to give him a chance to get his strength back. The warrior ate the rabbit whole. He needed the all the strength he could muster up. The fox started to lick the man’s wounds. Then the warrior hugged the little fox. They were there till nightfall, when the snowing ceased.

And Darkness falls upon the earth…

The warrior had regained strength, he stood up. The fox remained at his side. A Shadow has fallen upon the winter forest. They had to flee… run away.

They run and run. So fast, so nothing could get them. The fox was leading the way, and the warrior ran at its side. They were avoiding trees, and husks. Silence was in their wake…

Behind them the Darkness devoured everything. No tree, no rock… nothing could stand in its way. It tried to grab them, touch them, but they were faster. They just ran and never looked back. Many times, it was only on a tiny luck that the Shadow could not touch them. Sometimes a tree held it back for a second. An other time it was a rock or a well-timed jump. It almost reached them.

But they could run away. Managed to escape. The fox led the warrior to a clearing where the light of the Moon could touch them. It held back the Darkness, fought it back… Banished it back to where it came from. The Moon has cleansed the forest as it emerged from behind the clouds.

The fox stopped and sat down for a moment, it was looking at the warrior. Then as the light of Lune touched it, the fox transformed into a beautiful maiden. Her hair orange, just as of a fox’s fur. Her eyes like amber. Stepped towards the warrior. She closed her eyes, the warrior did too. Then gently, with warm love, she kissed the warrior…

Sometimes it is hard to distinguish a dream from reality. And sometimes it is better not to try at all…

The post Once upon a Dream appeared first on Alexander Wolf Writings.