Herred of the Viking Society

Torsteins new poem

Hirdmal

Bound by blood and brotherhood
Our spear point goes ever onward
The warriors of Ordgar are no stranger to war
Hastings to York, victory goes, yet we thirst for more

A singing sword
A burning field
A pool of gore

Recall, at Sewell, when Dunstan and I slew foes until there were none left to fall
Friends to wolves, we littered the field with their meals
At jorvik, fiscbrut dodged blows like a slippery eel

A burning brand
A falling friend
A soaring eagle

Friends of Odin, we fill his halls
At wareham we sent Danes back from the walls
Sure we were, that the ravens would not sleep unfed

A split skull
A blooded blade
The sound of steel

Gloriously into battle, always bold, Ordgar goes
Coming from that place we march victoriously, many stories to be told

A brother in blood
A friend in Fey
Ordgar always wins the day