Beaduhild

		
	Beaduhild     at evening brings
	Ale and bread     to the broken man
	(For pity's sake-     or so she says).
	Looking away     from ruined limbs,
	She lightly gossips     of local scandal
	And yesterday's weather     to Weland Smith.
	(Can she know     how close he watches,
	Tracking her form     with flaming eyes?)

	Weland sweats     at the white-hot forge
	In endless labor,     easeless rage.
	From time to time     she comes to talk
	(To pass an idle     hour- that's all).
	The hammer rises-    she watches his hands,
	She studies his face-    the hammer strikes.
	Bright leaps the fire     at bellows' urging,
	Brighter the embers     that burn in her eyes.

	********************************************

	All have heard     what happened then -
	Who knows truth     save two alone?


Written by Ann Groa Sheffield, Medoburg Kindred.

(First published in Asatru Today) Click here for Groa's notes for Beaduhild