She was not raised in garden of peace, where

sunbeams play in blooming trees. She was told

to be born in battle and brought up among

dismal and death. Skilled in the craft of killing

and fight, the girl learned to bear weapons and

a sword did she yield. No worse than her peers

she held up her shield and grew into a maiden,

a fair one and strong. And there among warriors

all grim-faced and tall she eventually found her

life and her love. And in an ancient old forest of

green they used to meet in their ardour and lust.

They embraced each other and only the trees

heard their sighs full of pleasure shared under

the veil of the moon...



Yet they had to part soon as the battlefield

called and brought them apart for many a

league and for months she was sundered from

his godly voice and this is the song that she sang :



Ho! To the battle I went

And killed many a mightier men

(and even a troll!)

And my sorrow withdrew

As I drowned my woes

In the deaths of my enemies

And the blood of my foes



Victories healed her and gave her the strength to rival the severance and the grief of long nights...

Once roaming along an old brook in the wood, she heard voices and sound of a battle not far -

so unsheathing her sword the maid hastened for help and could not believe her emerald eyes when

she percieved Him lying in the rushes alone with crimson red cloud of blood spreading around,

all pierced with sharp arrows and hewn into parts. To the ancient green forest had he evidently

returned to seek shades of their happiness long left behind, but ambushed by enemies and

grievously wounded he was as she leant over him and wept...The shield-maid mourned long

beside his deep grave, dug by her own hands in a shadowy mead