Scroll for Alexandra Krakensdottir for the Order of Gawain.
Greetings give unto great hall
Comes the Cyng Kenric Keen-Sword
Joined by Cwene Avelina
Come to tell tales of triumph.
Fletching flew from Ull the Archer
By a babe deep bolt buried.
Marked the maid, ancient magic.
Blessed was she by Ull’s own bow.
Grew the girl Long as lindens
Like her father, bow-bright warrior.
Ranging out under raincloud
Burning beneath brutal bright.
Daily tramp’d she to her targets
Eye-wise lass left them littered
Sea serpents are slower-armed.
Hedgehogs have fewer prickles.
Fingers fine load the linen
Wait and watch, her wing-branch flings
Flies as far as a falcon.
Know ye here her hunter’s heart.
Loving tasks ring-bright daughter
At the field sets the range-rings
That she may fly with finches.
Ravens old regard at distance.
Word-gold grew of the maiden
She is called Alexandra
And too, The Krakensdottir,
Yeoman young of Eastern wood.
Give her o’re to Gawain’s Order.
Bring her green for her greatness
grace her with a golden-star.
On her arm arrange it well.
This we made at Birka Market.
In Ull’s joy, January.
In snow-moon, the twenty-fifth
Forty-eight fleet years have fled us.
Sung was this song in Stonemarche
Owners of all Eastern woods,
Kenric and Avelina,
Give these words on winter day.