Ulric

Ulfric

In time long lost not in lore recorded

Ulfric, unforgiving of wrongs oft unsheathed his sword

To right wrongs past. He remembered them all.

Long his wrath was known both wide and far.

At long last he ceased, and his long ships beached,

his sword he sheathed in peace. His spear put away.

He meant to make peace, and more to stay

at hearth and home in rest no helm to don again.

His war raiding behind no remaining bitterness

Did he hold, nor dream that harm from others

Should to him travel through toilsome seas.

Yet wrong he reckoned strength of ruinous hate

the wild wraiths, his rage had wrought him.

A high hall Ulfric soon had built

So to honor honest warriors, those who mightily

had fought for him, and friends also

in fields from home.

Red gold he gave them, A generous king he was.

Yet his generous gold swiftly given away,

was taken and torn away from tender hands

In distant wars long won. Now withered cold

he deemed those deadened hands. Wrong he deemed them.

None who came in kindness whether kin or

Stranger, worn and weary, Ulric would turn away

Far and wide his winsome manner swiftly was spread

Many heard and harkened to hear that name

To know, near enough, where nested their gold

The gold now given was great in records

both great and grim its ghastly trail

was cut and carved all across the North

from hand to hand it had harmfully passed

with boiling blood swiftly and brashly shed

it was horded and harrowed by hateful men,

till Ulfric unmade its owner and unlooked for

brought it, healthy homeward. And handed it

into the keeping and cups of kings and beggars

who came and cared to stay in that kingly hall.

The words of wise bards never was missed

in that great thralldom, as they nobly

told their tales and showed their talents.

His wife he winsomely bedecked in white diamonds

and green gold bracelets and gilded rings.

His sons were sung of in ships and lands

far off for their strength and fine mettle.

He taught them tender peace and in terrible war

he showed them strength. Even so kings

must rule their realms.

One late night, long ago as laughter filled

the mighty hall more than ever, and mirth was overflowing

A runner sought Ulric's ear to render a message

from shore.

Ulric was weak and old, soon weary of life.

He sought to spend his final days in the sun's warmth.

He forgot his fated end.

Warriors with torches swiftly wound their way

toward the teeming hall, greed tore their minds

and forced them forward with fire and steel

to take the gold and torch the hall.

Little time he had, Ulric had not lost

courage or cunning, and carefully directed

where the women should leave, with children and young

Yet his wife would not go, and waited with Ulric

for the fire and blood to fill the golden hall.

The raiders arrived with ravings of hate.

They rushed the iron door, how wrong they were.

They were cut and wasted, by willing blades,

None could match Colwch, Ulric's coldest son.

Of peace he learned the least, now lithe and quick

He swung his sword as death's scythe.

None came through his door.

Ulric's oldest son, Olmar was almost as strong,

but more keen and cunning, his claim was a bow,

he skewered them striving up, to scale the stairs.

None came through that door.

The last, so lore recounts, was soon lost.

By Dallion, who deemed war and deadly things

as hateful and worthless horrors, so he despised them,

And would learn little of war, but luxury he knew well.

A blade cut of his head and carried it away.

In his stead Ulric came, old and stately he stood.

His mighty sword mangled foes again,

his most lovely wife, with spear and sheild

stood at his side. .

In fury the flames were thrown, and fast burned

into the hall, heavy smoke sifted and hung

in the hall, the home of great Housecarls.

The raiders retreated, let the fire wreak its havoc.

Those in the hall took stock,

and deemed it best to dash out

and attempt to flee lest all should die.

Cutting, cleaving from the door was Colwch's blade,

Olmar the oldest was behind, hard on his heels.

They led, none lagged behind with little courage.

The raiders fell and ran before that rush.

Blood and bravery always broke the foe.

But only barely, for Colwch badly

Was wounded to death. They waited

on a high hill, trying to help Colwch,

but cruel steel cut away Colwch's life.

On that hill were they by thanes surrounded.

About brother's body they stood and baited the foe.

Thrice the greed driven thanes surged

up to Ulric's blade and Ulric smote

them down as in days of old but death

would not wait, biding with patience

the time to claim tender lives.

Ulric fell, his final strength forever gone,

Cut and hewn again, his adversaries

dearly paid to deprive him of dearest breath.

Upon Ulric's body died Ulric's wife.

As they lived and loved so were they lost.

All about the aged body his able men defended

Yet one by one they fell wasted and dead.

And dearly were they deprived of dearest life.

Yet the wall was weakened and warriors slain

So long at last was Olwen left

Standing strong and alone sword in hand

brother and father both were sheltered beneath his shield

the raiders withdrew to regroup the wreckage of their force,

none could match the might of Ulric's men.

Once more they marshaled and mustered the few

death had not harvested and harrowed swiftly

the son of strong Ulric. Screaming they rushed

up the hill now heaped with Housecarls

and thickly with thanes and raiders thronged in death

Olwen's bow sang sweet and clear, dealing swift death.

As they clambered over the dead, closing the distance.

Done now, his bow was broken, he beat them back,

Swiftly drew sword and dagger. His shield was broken.

With wounds beset and by warriors defeated,

defeated and doomed, to death he fell,

beside his brother.