The Lay of Gilthol and Kirðral
by
Kevis Hendrickson
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or any third-party publishers.
The Lay of Gilthol and Kirðral
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2011 Kevis Hendrickson
Smashwords Edition
Cover illustration by © Kevis Hendrickson. All rights reserved.
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The Lay of Gilthol and Kirðral
A maiden there was
Fair
like the white snow
Snow-white in splendour
No peer in
beauty.
For of her virtues
And her comeliness
No
fairer sight yet
Was said to be seen.
Her name was
Nethel
In the speech of Men,
But hight she
Kirðral
By the woodland kin,
Her immortal
folk
The high Asðri race
That Men call Gaiad
In
tongues more sallow.
Unmet in stature
Were the
Asðri
For fair were they made
And fell like the
gods;
Wisest of creatures
Noble in Virtue
Lofty
of spirit
And greatest of wrath.
And so it is
told
Whence fair spring was come
Kirðral did take
to
The woods for pleasure.
With her was many
Fair
water-maidens.
Also went thither
Many
wood-maidens.
And her guardians
Loyal
protectors
To chaperon them
Her father’s
wishes.
The sun’s rays bathed them
The maidens
playing.
Their cheer was mickle
And loudly they
sang.
The wind was blowing,
The sky was greying,
The
flowers blooming,
The grass was shooting.
Repast
was taken
On bright green carpet.
Then did fair
Kirðral
Tire of eating.
She took to a lake
Grey
and foreboding,
Magical waters
Foaming with
blossom.
Sadness befell her,
Loneliness such
as
She had not suffered
Ere adolescence.
She saw
her beauty
In water’s shimmer,
Her fair
reflection
And snow-white splendour:
The glow in
her eyes
Bright green and golden,
The shape of her
mouth
Lips red like the rose,
Hair like the
olive
Grown long and braided;
Loveliest maiden,
A
sight met for eyes.
Then said she sadly
A croon in
her voice:
‘Of all the creatures
Fair-born to
this world,
No other is so
Exquisite and
yet
Frayed with such sorrow
As I am become.’
For
it was fickle
To her troubled mind
That in looks
she might
The fairest sight be
Unto all the
world
If no lord did take
Her unto their heart
And
make her as wife.
She was become then
Swell of desire
To
seek and to woo
Some lord of her folk.
Her mind was
astir,
Her heart was risen,
Her face shone
brightly,
Her eyes brighter still;
Then the young
maiden
Rejoined the others
To meet them in
sport
And hid in the woods.
Laughed she merrily
When
no one could find
Within the bushes
Her
place of hiding.
Her intent it was
To find another
Place
of concealment
From those who sought her.
She flew
like the wind
Through untamed thickets
And budding
branches
To the road beyond
The trees and
grasses
When galloping came
Many tall horses
And
on them riders,
All stalwart figures
Bearing bright
weapons
Bucklers and
streamers
And banners that glowed.
Her heart did
harshly
Within her breast beat
Foreseeing her
doom
Had come upon her.
She looked upon them
With
wide wary eyes.
Halted the riders
And matched her
glaring
Thinking it much queer
How vast her
beauty.
One of the riders
The tallest of them
A lord of great
strength
Took leave of his mount.
He measured his
stride
As he approached her
He sued her
pardon,
Prayed her to treat him
To merely a word
If
naught but her name.
But Kirðral knew
not
The way to respond
In spirit or mind
To such a one as him.
For Elf-kind was
he,
The one who sued her,
A lord of his
race,
Goodly of Stature
And well-met by her;
Never
a better
Lord seen in the land.
She would have said
him
To have him to hold
That she might know
him
And call him her lord
But ere such
wooing
Could come to passing,
The Asðri came
forth
With intent to slay
The Elves that had
come
To hither woodland.
They did not bear
them
Bright gifts or welcome;
No greeting
other
Than spear unwetted.
A challenge was
made
And cruel insults.
The Elves drew their
bows
And sighted their marks
On burnished
armour
To pierce them whole.
But battle was
ceased
Ever it began.
The Elves retreated
To
cover of woods.
But Kirðral did not
Suffer his
parting,
The Elf-lord that did
By charm win her
heart.
To see him once more
Was ever her plot
The
time she would bide
Till met them again.
‘For I
shall want him
To have as mine own,
This Elf-lord
or none,
To claim as husband.
My lord forever
To
embrace as such
To hold and to touch
My lord
forever
Until the world’s end.’
Thus spake fair
Kirðral
With hope like heaven
Like eagles
soaring
And so flew her heart.
But of her great
bliss
And dreams would soon come
Not a love to last
But
swiftly her doom.