A little poem of Uthred, Son of Uthred on the day of his father's death and his capture by Ragnar. It is no great literature, but I enjoyed writing it. Battle Ready Running through the snow frosted forest, The weight of armor, shield, and sword Are as heavy as being heir and left at home, Despised and ignored. With pounding heart and righteous fury You enter the field of battle Only to see your father slain No chance to test your mettle. In anger, rage, and grief, you swing at the giant Dane, But,your touch is but a tickle, His backhand a blinding pain. Face streaked with blood, You scour the field for spoils, No longer Saxon royalty, But a slave so tightly coiled. Gazing upon your kingly father, Dead and nailed to a post, Your shoulders slump and eyes well up As you stagger the hills, a ghost.
You did well to capture the youthful ambition as well as the awful end to it. Upon reading this show's wiki, I'm wondering if Ragnar here and Ragnar from the Kirk Douglas movie The Vikings are the same. I guess it's a popular enough name, though.
Oh wow, THIS. I have a million and one of your stories to catch up on - which I do sincerely apologize for - but I had to start with this one, since it's so rare that we see poetry on the boards and I know this was outside of your wheelhouse a fair bit, so to speak. But you did a great job with the verses and the evocative language. I really felt Uthred's pain and death of innocence, in a sense, and the format really put me in mind of the sagas these stories are in part based on! Bravo on this, brodie! Really, truly well done!
