The House of the Wolfings [63]
runneth under them, coming from the east: and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern heaths where he is minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning: and if ye do your best ye shall be there before he is upon the road, and sure it is that your tidings shall hasten him."
"Thou sayest sooth," saith Geirbald, "tarry we no longer; here sunder our ways; farewell!"
"Farewell," said he, "and thou, Viglund, take this word in parting, that belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike a stroke, and maybe be smitten. For indeed they be most mighty warriors."
Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side. And Geirbald and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were out of the thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund knew the ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old, and saw that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way. And or ever they came to the water's edge, they were met by Wolfkettle of the Wolfings, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were but just come from the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near the Great Ridge; there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti of the Beamings, their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the battle, but was doing well, and was like to live. So when they saw the messengers, they came up to them and hailed them, and asked them if the tidings were good or evil.
"That is as it may be," said Geirbald, "but they are short to tell; the Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the spur to meet them, and sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to fall in on them also. Nor may we tarry one minute ere we have seen Thiodolf."
Said Wolfkettle, "We will lead you to him; he is on the east side of the water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing."
So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle rode the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall man.
But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his voice and sang:
"White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm, But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm? What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before, On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war? Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn, And dusketh the Moon's Sister, and the trees look overworn; God's Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth white As the bones of the giants' father when the Gods first fared to fight."
And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening, and from far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite's Nest showed pale and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops of rain pattered into the smooth water before them from a rag of the cloud-flock right over head. They were in mid stream now, for the water was wide there; on the eastern bank were the warriors gathering, for they had beheld the faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle came to them across the water, so they deemed that great tidings were toward, and would fain know on what errand those were come.
Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more than waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald's saddle; then Wolfkettle laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword, and waved it from east to west and sang:
"O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou wilt, And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt! Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade, Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade! O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light, If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight! Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake, And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the lightening make, And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain, Till the joy
"Thou sayest sooth," saith Geirbald, "tarry we no longer; here sunder our ways; farewell!"
"Farewell," said he, "and thou, Viglund, take this word in parting, that belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike a stroke, and maybe be smitten. For indeed they be most mighty warriors."
Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side. And Geirbald and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were out of the thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund knew the ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old, and saw that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way. And or ever they came to the water's edge, they were met by Wolfkettle of the Wolfings, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were but just come from the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near the Great Ridge; there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti of the Beamings, their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the battle, but was doing well, and was like to live. So when they saw the messengers, they came up to them and hailed them, and asked them if the tidings were good or evil.
"That is as it may be," said Geirbald, "but they are short to tell; the Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the spur to meet them, and sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to fall in on them also. Nor may we tarry one minute ere we have seen Thiodolf."
Said Wolfkettle, "We will lead you to him; he is on the east side of the water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing."
So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle rode the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall man.
But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his voice and sang:
"White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm, But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm? What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before, On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war? Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn, And dusketh the Moon's Sister, and the trees look overworn; God's Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth white As the bones of the giants' father when the Gods first fared to fight."
And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening, and from far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite's Nest showed pale and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops of rain pattered into the smooth water before them from a rag of the cloud-flock right over head. They were in mid stream now, for the water was wide there; on the eastern bank were the warriors gathering, for they had beheld the faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle came to them across the water, so they deemed that great tidings were toward, and would fain know on what errand those were come.
Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more than waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald's saddle; then Wolfkettle laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword, and waved it from east to west and sang:
"O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou wilt, And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt! Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade, Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade! O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light, If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight! Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake, And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the lightening make, And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain, Till the joy