GuðcræftThe coming of the Aethelings to the Shores of Azeroth

andHow Wolfgaar the Aetheling came to be a Paladin of

the Alliance

Hwaet! Hear ye, Men of the Eastern Kings;Attend my song, ye Ælfnoþ of the green wode;Incline unto me Dwarven þéod in stone halls set deep,And I shall sing to thee of the coming of Wolfgaar Æðeling.

Then the warrior, battle-tried, touched the sounding glee-wood:Straight awoke the harp's sweet note; straight a song uprose,Sooth and sad its music. Then from hero's lips there fellA wonder-tale, well told.

Across the Drihten Sohte, that great Forbidding SeaCame fearless Beow, Ring-Giver of courageous thanes,O’er churning darkening tide, o’er whale-road unknown to man,Came Beow, Wyrd watched, to the Hinterland.

Did some dormant door swing wide within the wind and waves,As, amidst an assailing sea strove mast and oar;Did a portal to these shores from Atheling lands afarAllow fearless sea-farers passage through fífeldór?

On Azeroth shores, hope of home-hearth lost, Beow bade his warriors uprear houses, barns, and hall.Then did Sea-thanes hew bolttimber and quarry stán; Folkstead they fashioned and families they raised, and the banners of the Æþelingas unfurled.

Gladly did lændaga liegemen obey their guðcyning!Hearthstones they set and homesteads they framed,Proud were the Aethelings in their smithcraeftThere did they subdue the hillside and sea strand.

Peace and plenty were given to the Athelings there upon that shoreFishes and flocks fed the families of spear-armed thanes; Wyrd’s will was with the sea-dwellers, Fate did not fail them.Sons and daughters were multiplied to the new comers from afar.

Unto mighty Beow, guðcyning, beloved of his people, wast a son born!Hrothgar! Red-haired, doughty, skilled with sweord and scyld was he.Gladness abode in the burg of the Aethelings; hearth-songs sung strongIn that sheltered shore protected betwixt mountainside and sea.

Atheling Settlement

But rest wast broken and peace wast rent, Wyrd’s hand wrought woe!For from over the mountain-wall came grimma gæst, mighty man-foe –Wyrm-kin, scaled beast, clawed and crawling, came down amongst men;In twilight that craven fiend crept in to carry off an Aetheling child.

Then to arms rose the warriors at the Ring-Giver’s callTo arms! Syrcan ond scyldas, wigum ond wæpnum!The spear-armed thanes rushed then from hall and home To pursue the dreaded and dire monster that dared to steal away the Aetheling child.

Upon the peak of that fyrgen-top, fearless fighters met their fiery foe;Mail-clad men, brave and bold, shoulder-thanes of mighty BeowStood staunch and stalwart against this bringer of doom; A dragon, Dire and death-dealing, sought by fire-fear to freeze the heart of each hero.

Unhallowed hell-spawn, serpent-kin of Halion, suffered not Aetheling; But fell, with writhing tail and armored-scale, upon the warrior king.With cutting claws it seized three seasoned thanes, O sad sons of Wyrd, Casting these headlong to their deaths down into deep mountain delving.

Beow, that beloved chieftain, with hoisted spear bellowed his battle-cry!Blood bought brother-hood had this grim gaest slain, kinsman had it laid low;Nay would the guðcyning suffer this foul wyrm-fiend further breath,Charged then he, spear set straight, into the breast of that mighty beast.

Grievous was the wound, great gash, rendered by the Ring-Giver upon the wicked wyrm,Black blood burst forth, the grimma gaest’s gore flowed full sore,Forward brave Beow drove his spear shaft into the serpent’s sideForward surged the strong shield-king pushing foe toward its fatal fall.

Yet that serpent spawn of Seradane had life left within it’s lithe and vile form;Death dealing claws, devil-formed, caught the good cyning in clutches cruel.Talons dug into the doomed chieftain; ringmail shorn, flesh was torn;As the foul fiend fell from fyrgen-side, down into dark depths, Lo! Beow was to his death was borne.