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At this fortuitous discovery we rejoice
Still in vain we struggle for agreement
Though the horn is shared in celebration
In brokenness discord is sown
Too many voices separate us
The Runes tell of those gone before
As the River roars and disappears
Fountains of hope still remain divided
I wish only for thy blessings father
And Gamelin’s forgiveness
Crying out from watery bowels
The great Tempest in silence lies
Great King Agar we have journeyed
The raging unknown in thy honor
And in this declaration, I wax truthful
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Father Agar, I pray thy forgiveness
In the winter of my thoughts
I am fashioned with shame for my treachery
Travailing in brokenness
I feel strength leaving me
Cold and grim frequently,
My hands shake and cannot be stilled
No more the medicines affect me
There is mirth no more between us
In unending shame my eyes darken
Often the night’s groan, breathing sullen a sound
Too great a thing have I wrought against thee
In stories of great voyages, I now pen remembrances
Wishing only for Odin’s blessings
I pray for the ancient language and Skaldic skills
Thrilling verse that lifts the Rognvald legacy
For warrior generations henceforth
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Nature herself would rise wroth against us father
Tempestuous great waters
Mountains too high to measure
Cast us about as fodder
Lifting us on watery hands as sacrifices
We endured the sickness
With bloodthirsty eyes and gaping jaws
Leviathan surrounded us
Denizens of dreadful darkness
Sent to devour our flesh
Thrice denounced in dread accents
We pressed forward killing in battles fearful
An evil world hath opened its mouth to swallow us
Gazing down its cavernous throat
We sit betwixt its teeth in wonderment
Unheard voices cry out for reckoning
Children vexed by storms engulfed as kindling
Sleep beneath Shallows of Three Rocks
I wish only to enter father, but alas
Having found much resistance find only
Weary spirits and unity gone
From the sacred Isle, I Magnus, cry out for wisdom
And of great Jormungandr the sacred wyrm
The last few beseech Midgard and the Great Wand
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I have failed in my duties father Agar
And hear daily the voice of reason crying,
What hast thou done child of clay?
Remembering, in early years,
When I lay upon my bed
That all called me but a shiftless youth
Though pale and faint and slight in stature
Through beatings and disrepute
I suffered not to betray you great king
But make you proud
Daily great Odin wooed me
And becoming more holy I thought
I eagerly pursued the shadow voices
Finding solace in the flatteries,
Was I deceived?
Hastily men embraced my countenance
When at first this great voyage began
In respect of you, noble father Agar,
They followed, believing a man
In whom no good they truly saw
Making my reckless words their law
I led them down paths of my choosing
Not yours or the Holy One’s
All know now that Agar’s first-born son
Is mere mortal and not a god
Still I yield not to adversity father
But press forward bravely in hope
Offering Odin’s Valkyrie’s food and drink
Would they but listen and appear to us
But alas they entreat me not
I have become anathema to all but the few who still believe
Spitting upon myself for what I have done
Cursing myself for so miserable an undertaking
Oh, noble father Agar I implore thee
Can such resentments dwell in heavenly minds
That would curse me to the eternal fires?
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Tasked high and hard,
Weary and broken,
This witness mine, Magnus,
King of the Rognvald diaspora,
Empowered by Agar,
Beloved King of the Rognvald nation.
It is I, Magnus, who writes this account
By his own hand and of clear mind…
We have found the entrance
The underground realm is upon us
Descent into the Realm of the Ancients is before us
From yawning chambers of the deep
I hear those voices gone before
Njord, Freya, Freyr, Angrboda, Balder,
Nerthus, Forseti, Gerd, Skadhi,
But none now can plunge therefore
Into her shadowy abode
The Rognvald’s cannot follow
The first family will not allow it
We are divided and daily battle
Life is but shadows and disillusionment
The strength and resolve of Ragnarr and Borghild
Remain steadfast in the promises of the Risen Christ
Their words burn inside me
I am sore troubled and vexed in spirit
Where one is torn away, yet another succeeds
In times yet distant, Ghost Warriors will persist
Where we have failed, these will succeed
I have gained sanctuary in Valhalla, Odin has promised it
Still I know my life here is forfeit,
I hear murmuring and see shifting eyes
For years blessed with divine immunity from cruel ills
I die this fortnight regretting my actions
My father, my king, has Odin lied to me?
Am I thus doomed to the eternal fires?
I am a wretched man
Please forgive me!
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Written by Magnus to his father, the Great King Agar. Magnus, accursed now of the First Tribe of Rognvald's. Taken from A Monumental Journey,

Richard Lloyd Cederberg
   A Monumental Journey Series - Between the Cracks