‘Star Sailors’

On the great island

At the center of the world

Lived two kindreds,

Both of whom were

Captivated by the sky

And longed to wander

Among the lights thereof.

In the west was Jotunheim,

A land of barren

Hills and mountains,

But her people

Were resourceful

And renowned for works

Made by their hands:

Great cities, and fine clocks

Of many gears,

And machines for mining

And refining ore.

But as their skillfulness increased,

So too did their pride,

Grim deceiver,

Dark destroyer of souls.

Their yearning to journey

To the sky was not borne

Out of love for what they saw,

But to make greater

The power and splendor

Of their people and cities.

At their yearly assembly

It was decided to appoint

Their finest engineers

To fashion a machine

To carry them to the stars

And other worlds

And bring back the best

Resources they found among them.

The Jotun scientists

Pored over their books

Of mightcraftlore

For many days

And many sleepless nights

And contrived an iron tower

With an engine

At its base that breathed

Fire many times hotter

Than any dragon’s.

Inside was ample room

For the valuable ores

They hoped to find.

The whole country

Aided in building

This greatest of their works,

And the day of its flight

Quickly arrived.

The illustrious crew,

Who were not few in number,

Climbed within and lit the fire,

And the iron ship

Began a slow, heavy ascent.

But the iron of the ship

Did in no wise

Wish to leave the earth

From which it came,

Which it knew as its only home.

And so, as the tower

Climbed higher, the iron

Reached the more strongly for the ground.

The straight path upward

Of the ship began to curve.

The crew tried to counter

But was too late.

The nose was now

Aiming downward,

And the engine sped them

Toward the hard, rocky ground.

The impact created a fiery blast

That sundered the crew from the living.

But it also pierced the pride

Of all of Jotunheim.

Their failure so enraged them

That fire began to consume

Their bodies from within,

One after another,

Until bone and ashes

Alone remained in their great cities,

While their souls descended

To the frozen wastes

At the roots of the world,

There to await the final doom

The All-Father will give

When the world is re-fashioned.

Now in the east was Idavoll,

A land of lush grasses and trees,

With many rivers and lakes besides.

They loved the care

Of living things

Above all else,

Whether herb or worm or ox,

And lived in simple homes.

When news came of the fate

Of their kinsmen

In Jotunheim,

They grieved exceedingly,

And prayed for mercy for their souls.

And they began to be troubled

In their hearts about themselves also.

For they too longed to sail the skies,

But seeing the fate of their kin,

They were unsure

Of the goodness

Of this longing,

And what it might

Bring about for them

If they pursued it to the end.

They agreed to a fast

Among themselves,

Bread and water

With a little salt,

And prayed without ceasing

To God the Father of All

To know if they should

Forsake the sky.

After seven days,

An answer came.

A group of men

At the Sacred Grove,

Holy to God,

Had not left that place

During the fast.

And on the seventh day

The voice of the Great Father

Spoke to them, saying,

‘Do not be afraid

Any longer, you and all

Of Idavoll.

I have seen your hearts

And know that your desire

To sail the skies is pure.

You do not seek

Riches and power

But only to enjoy

The beauty and wonder

Of what you see,

Just as I also did

When the making

Of them was finished.

I will send to you

My servant Mimir,

Who will guide you to the stars

And back home again.

Listen to him,

And go, and embrace

All you find in the heavens

With the same pure love

You have for the wyrts

And beasts of the earth.’

And straight upon

The ceasing of the voice,

Mimir, a mighty lord of Heaven,

Appeared.  He looked of the race of men,

Yet the holiness

That flowed from him

Made all men bow their heads

In rev’rence.

But he comforted them,

And had them lift

Their countenances.

All Idavoll

Hearkened to his words.

He counselled them

To weave together

Fine strands of willow wood

Into the shape of a boat,

With a little rudder

Towards the aft.

For the willows

Are friends of the earth

And the air, and do not

Favor one over the other.

Hringhorn they called it,

And when it was made,

Lo! it began to float in the air.

The men tied it fast

To a great ever-green,

And Mimir, rising up

And standing in the stern,

Called the several men

Who had heard the words

Of the Father

To join him in the ship.

‘Now is the time

We shall depart,’

Said Mimir to the men.

‘Untether the boat,

And we will go

Thither, to yonder sky.’

They obeyed, and quickly,

Quickly, the little ship

Rose from the earth to the heavens.

The men of Idavoll

Were struck with awe.

Never had such beauty

Met their eyes or been

Imagined in their hearts:

Spheres aflame in fires

Of brilliant hues;

Others frozen,

Clear and smooth without blemish;

Many-faceted crystals

Hurtling along,

Leaving sparkling

Trails of diamond dust behind.

Now Mimir directed them

To a nearby globe,

A world like the one they left.

But as they set down upon it,

They saw it had no life:

Gently rolling hills, lakes,

And soft soil for seed

It had, but nothing grew,

Nothing breathed, but they themselves.

Then the voice of God

Spoke again to them:

‘It has been my will

From the beginning

That man would fill

And rejoice in the whole cosmos

I have made.  The longing

In your hearts for the sky

Was given to you by me,

But I would not allow it

To be fulfilled until this time,

When mankind has shown

Itself worthy of taking up

This task.  Return home now,

And gather together

Whosoever wills,

And bring them back here

To make this a living world.’

Into the boat, into the air,

They went once again.

But before they sailed away

From this new world,

Mimir took one of the crystals

Of the sky-sea

And placed it in the aft.

And as they homeward fared,

A crystal trail

Stretched from thence to Idavoll.

And at the command

Of the Great Father,

It hardened all together.

This was the birth of Breithablik,

The first crystal bridge between worlds.

By it, the people of Idavoll

Were able to carry the stores

Needed to begin life

On the new world.

And the songs and the stories,

The gardens and the barns,

And all the ways of Idavoll

Grew up in a new land,

And very little seemed

Unfamiliar to anyone

Who fared from one to the other.

This is the beginning

Of how the worlds

Were settled in

Distant ages past,

This the origin

Of the crystal bridges

Linking many worlds:

The faith and humility

Of the farmers and herdsmen

Of Idavoll,

Which lifted them to the skies.

--

Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!

Anathema to the Union!