Braedthurnir Tolfsaga - The Tale of the Twelve Brothers

[WRECCAN'S HEIR]

After many long lives of men, was a boy-child born,

Of the line of Tostig. Culuaie sent him forth with greatness,

As when the moons themselves rise full, and brighten the land.

I have heard how Wreccan's heir grew tall and broad,

And loyally upheld his father's laws through the land.

It is also sung how he inspired his beloved comrades,

Wielding his sword in the shield-clash, where souls are forfeit,

He stood as the oak to a gale, bending but unbroken.

In this way the armies of the king remained victorious,

And the king's lands were defended and so prospered.

This behaviour gained the young prince much honour.

Leowrac was he called, vibrant in the youth of his life.

His father only stood as high as his chosen heir's shoulder,

So tall and mighty was the King's most noble son.

Long were his locks, gold as the leaves before winter,

When warmth and light still clings to the land,

Though the chill of the fell season is boded in the winds.

His sword was named Rekkrost, its blade a leaping beck,

And as a hart's spring charge was his ferocity unleashed.

But, as a feast, when the last of the steaming beef is cut,

Or when at last the ale cup runs dry, its spirit drained,

So the lives of men and the other races do end.

Great was the woe, and many wept at Wreccan's passing,

When Juraidh, cruel and cold, sent its call to that man.

Wise and fair he ruled, and his final journey sombre,

His sons bore his body aloft to its resting place.

In a deep vault he was lain, a womb of stone raised above,

A barrow as of those of the kings of old. He lay not alone,

Within was laid beaten and polished gold, and his great sword,

The silver blade of Hellirskepna unsheathed across his breast.

Two other war-talons were passed to Leowrac, now king,

After his father had been laid in the ground. The first,

Shimmering with the beauty of cool, clear water he took in hand.

The other, serpentine and disquieting to behold with the eye,

Should never have been held by a mortal man. Oh! The pride,

And the belief that is the rise and fall of men through time!

So, the new King of this land became their keeper and guard,

And took the Sverthfiota and the Svertillur as his own.

Leowrac ruled Banahgar thereon wisely, his law iron,

His mind respectful of precedent, honour and compassion.

As spring melts the deep snow, and the soil wakes again,

Thinking of birth and growth, so the king thought,

Desiring a wife to share his kingdom and give him strong heirs.

There were maidens in Rekke-hoell, all shapely and tall,

Who could steal the heart of a man. Wreccan's heir chose,

Having no mind for any flimsy maid, admiring the swan's-neck.

The bards still sing rhymes of Rhiannwaen, of beauty regal,

Bride of the great king. All men's eyes were drawn to her,

As she moved between the benches in the hall, pouring the ale.

Like the taste of the hall-beer, honey-brewed, nectar sweet,

Was the joy of Leowrac at taking himself such a wife.

And like the potency of the Kletturfaend, strong and full,

Was Rhiannwaen's pride at pledging troth with such a man.

And so it is said how the great king Leowrac, most mighty,

And the beauty Rhiannwaen were fine together. And so,

Culuaie smiled and sent forth sons, strong and feisty in birth.