I've had a feeling that there is a new alloy in the crucible here... one
that perhaps has not been seen before. And not to be swept up by the
moment altogether.... not without some sober second thought as it were...
one can consider that nothing in our world is just a happenstance....a
chance meeting and a little small talk does not a marriage make.... except
those of the unholiest kinds....
but if each of us has but a little gold... cast on the scales for the
weregild of our Folk.... each grain gathering to a hoard of some weight....
and with the Great Gods standing to see if the Folk are worthy... perchance
our fickleness and turning away can be bargained.. and paid for
with these great ones turning and meeting eye when the last grain falls...
freely given in the pan....and the beam moves over with the weight of a
feather onto the proper side......
And Odhinn the Valfather fiercely meeting the eyes of Tyr..... Heimdall ever
watching... and Thor, the great, red bearded one nodding slowly as though in
a great smile breaks out on the handsome face of Freyre....and the beautiful
ones.. the Asynjur.... speak excited with the sound of tinkling
the great War -Dogs on the rush floor... kind..... in their
fierce eyes.... and thumping tail...
"Welcome home our mortal Folk" is the clarion cry.... at the halls
of fate....the dwarf-forged trumpets blare a sudden regime....
and a beam of light seen rising high....... connecting all the worlds
two thousand years laid dim...
"Now must we ever swear it"..... "never again shall our
Folk be taken fromus.. nor we from them"
"Till the universe be torn asunder.. and all measured at the thrones of
"Let this then be".