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EINHERJAR-DAG




  To honour another is indeed a long standing tradition, no matter your specific ancestry, which goes back far beyond human reckoning.
  It is the men, women and children amongst us whose noble deeds and actions in a harsh world provide a steady reminder of what can, and oft should be accomplished. Hence they should be recognized for who they are, more-so than what they've done, yet they truly become their deeds over time none the less.
  The person does not necessarily have to be deceased in order to be honoured, though now-a-days this is most likely the case, for it is oft through death that we discover the heroes.

ITEMS SOUGHT:
Read o'loud in one's Ve, or near a large body of water, or over the bodily remains. The only item necessary is a horn filled full. If you like you may read from a specific Saga to help set the general tone of this occasion. Add what you desire in the way of offerings i.e. candles, incense, food, flowers, etc.




Where are the Heroes that courage revealed,
Those battle-bright warriors unto the field
Who so did stride fore, fiercely into the war,
Their swords alight in the midst of the van?
The heroes are now gone, their time did wan.

Where are the earls who led in the frey?
The chieftains and kings who held sway
In full might ancestral, on lands territorial
So revered are they in both story and song
All passed away, now our heroes are gone.

Where are the unsung, the women and children,
The unknown who's zeal does bring us direction
Obtuse heroes are few, some assuredly withdrew,
Who were models upon which to pattern a deed?
From this expansive life are they now freed.

Now during this darkening of the fair sun,
Remember what's ended has only truly begun.
Wolf to heels full bright, causes said flight
As Sunna sets each evening, she rises at morn,
To the halls of the gods are the heroes reborn.

And we, who with valor must conquer each day,
We too are each heroes as gallant as they,
Each to a hall strives, the Hero soon arrives
With Truth as our banner and Courage our light
When we dilgently tread the long, darksome night.

So lift up a toast with the horn rim-filled,
To those who have faithfully their Wyrd willed.
Known primal Orlog be, fear not all you see
Traditions well kept and life live you tru
Alike to gods and heroes this wondrous brew.

Thus do we drink their minne or memory-draught
To thereby recollect the battles they fought
Solemn at full sumbul, or religious festival
And thus call upon each their individual deeds
A life to match equally that one knowingly leads.


homeward bound
 



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