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Brisingamen

The first looked out -        his eyes were opened -
At summer's height -        his heart was softened -
(Sweet murmur        of sunlit water;
Swaying grace        of willow's shade.)
The forge he readied;        thus he wrought:
Warmth and laughter,        ease and languor -
This is what he learned of love.

The next looked out -        his eyes were opened -
At storm and sky -        his heart was seized -
(Reeling currents        shred the clouds;
Lightning blazes;        thunder bellows.)
The forge he readied;        thus he wrought:
Fire and fury,        fierce delight -
This is what he learned of love.

The third looked out -        his eyes were opened -
At gentle rain -        his heart was wrung -
(It drips from fir trees,        iron-dark,
And stains the rock        a deeper rust.)
The forge he readied;        thus he wrought:
Strange contentment        born of sorrow -
This is what he learned of love.

The last looked up -        his eyes were opened -
At winter's hoard -        his heart was pierced -
(Dreaming stars        in darkness' throat;
Slow kiss        of windless cold.)
The forge he readied;        thus he wrought:
Joy and stillness,        awe and silence,
Fitting for his fairest love.

© 1998 by Ann Gróa Sheffield. All rights reserved.
First published in Idunna, journal of the Troth.

Author's note: I think it was J.S. Pereira who first mentioned to me the modern idea that Freyja lay with the four dwarves before they forged Brisingamen. The idea appeals to me strongly; I think it makes sense that this contact with Freyja's power gave the dwarves the inspiration to shape a treasure worthy of her.