All day had Freya, most lovely of the goddesses, played and romped in the fields. Then did she lay down to rest.
And while she slept deft Loki, the Prankster, the Mischief-Maker of the Gods, did espy the glimmering of Brosingamene, formed of Galdra, her constant companion. Silent as night did Loki move to the Goddess’ side and, with fingers formed over the years in lightness, did remove the silver circlet from about her snow-white neck.
Straightaway did Freya arouse, on sensing its loss. Though he moved with the speed of the winds yet Loki she glimpsed as he passed swiftly from sight into the Barrow that leads to Drëun.
Then was Freya in despair. Darkness descended all about her to hide her tears. Great was her anguish. All light, all life, all creatures joined her in doom
To all corners were sent the Searchers, in quest of Loki; yet knew yet they, theywould find him not. For who is there may descend into Drëun and return again from thence?
Excepting the Gods themselves and, alack, mischievous Loki.
So it was that, still weak from grief, Freya herself elected to descend in search of Brosingamene. At the portals of the Barrow was she challenged yet recognized and passed.
The multitude of souls within cried joyfully to see her yet could she not tarry as she sought her stolen light.
The infamous Loki left no trail to follow, yet was he everywhere past seen. Those to whom she spake held to Freya (that) Loki carried no jewel as he went by.
Where, then, was it hid?
In despair she searched an age.
Hearhden, the mighty smith of the Gods, did arise from his rest to sense the bewailment of the souls of Freya’s sorrow. Striding from his smithy, to find the cause of the sorrow, did he espy where the Silver Circlet where Loki Mischief-Maker had laid it; upon the rock before his door.
Then was all clear. As Hearhden took hold of Brosingamene, (then did) Loki appearbefore him, his face wild with rage.
Yet would Loki not attack Hearhden, this mighty smith whose strength was known even beyond Drëun.
By wiles and tricks did he strive to get his hands upon the silver circlet. He shapeshifted; he darted here and there; he was visible then invisible. Yet could he not sway the smith.
Tiring of the fight, Hearhden raised his mighty club. Then sped Loki away. Great was the hoy of Freya when Hearhden placed Brosingamene once more about her snow-white neck. Great were the cries of joy from Drëun and above. Great were the thanks that Freya, and all Men, gave the Gods for the return of Brosingamene.
The Tree: The Complete Book of Saxon Witchcraft, Raymond Buckland Samuel Weiser, N.Y. 1974
And while she slept deft Loki, the Prankster, the Mischief-Maker of the Gods, did espy the glimmering of Brosingamene, formed of Galdra, her constant companion. Silent as night did Loki move to the Goddess’ side and, with fingers formed over the years in lightness, did remove the silver circlet from about her snow-white neck.
Straightaway did Freya arouse, on sensing its loss. Though he moved with the speed of the winds yet Loki she glimpsed as he passed swiftly from sight into the Barrow that leads to Drëun.
Then was Freya in despair. Darkness descended all about her to hide her tears. Great was her anguish. All light, all life, all creatures joined her in doom
To all corners were sent the Searchers, in quest of Loki; yet knew yet they, theywould find him not. For who is there may descend into Drëun and return again from thence?
Excepting the Gods themselves and, alack, mischievous Loki.
So it was that, still weak from grief, Freya herself elected to descend in search of Brosingamene. At the portals of the Barrow was she challenged yet recognized and passed.
The multitude of souls within cried joyfully to see her yet could she not tarry as she sought her stolen light.
The infamous Loki left no trail to follow, yet was he everywhere past seen. Those to whom she spake held to Freya (that) Loki carried no jewel as he went by.
Where, then, was it hid?
In despair she searched an age.
Hearhden, the mighty smith of the Gods, did arise from his rest to sense the bewailment of the souls of Freya’s sorrow. Striding from his smithy, to find the cause of the sorrow, did he espy where the Silver Circlet where Loki Mischief-Maker had laid it; upon the rock before his door.
Then was all clear. As Hearhden took hold of Brosingamene, (then did) Loki appearbefore him, his face wild with rage.
Yet would Loki not attack Hearhden, this mighty smith whose strength was known even beyond Drëun.
By wiles and tricks did he strive to get his hands upon the silver circlet. He shapeshifted; he darted here and there; he was visible then invisible. Yet could he not sway the smith.
Tiring of the fight, Hearhden raised his mighty club. Then sped Loki away. Great was the hoy of Freya when Hearhden placed Brosingamene once more about her snow-white neck. Great were the cries of joy from Drëun and above. Great were the thanks that Freya, and all Men, gave the Gods for the return of Brosingamene.
The Tree: The Complete Book of Saxon Witchcraft, Raymond Buckland Samuel Weiser, N.Y. 1974
