Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me

And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee.

And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid

And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played,

And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell,

Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well.

So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the grass,

And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he pass.

And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain.

Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?”

  Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:

  “Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice this summer day.

But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee away?”

  Then said the Hall-Sun:

  “I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard as I woke;

And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak,

And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed

As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed.

For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold,

And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold,

And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day

When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play.

And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before,

And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore,

And thereon the wood-wolf’s image in ruddy gold was done.

Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one

And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while

And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile;

And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords

And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words

Of their shouting and rejoicing.  So thereafter was I laid

And borne forth on the warrior’s warshield, and our way through the wood we made

’Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded men.

  “But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since then,

And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall,

A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall;

A world of many doings, and nought for me to do,

A world of many noises, and known to me were few.

  “Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech of the kin,

And was strange ’neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein;

And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on

Unto the next hour’s joyance till the happy day was done.

And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin

With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein.

And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me,

And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee,

And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all.

And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall,

In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat.

But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat,

Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood;

And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood

Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man,

And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan,

And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft,

And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and soft

A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again,

And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering chain.”

  “Yea,” said the carline, “this woman will have been the Hall-Sun that came before thee.  What next dost thou remember?”

  Said the maiden:

  “Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People’s Roof,

And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof,

And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went,

And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent.

And now would I call her ‘Mother,’ and indeed I loved her well.

  “So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;

But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,

Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good.

But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,

And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to

Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin

In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein.”

  Then smiled the carline and said: “Yea, he is thy foster-father, and yet a fond one.”

  “Sooth is that,” said the Hall-Sun.  “But wise art thou by seeming.  Hast thou come to tell me of what kindred I am, and who is my father and who is my mother?”

  Said the carline: “Art thou not also wise?  Is it not so that the Hall-Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?”

  “Yea,” she said, “yet have I seen waking or sleeping no other father save my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen, as one who should meet her in the flesh one day.”

  “And good is that,” said the carline; and as she spoke her face waxed kinder, and she said:

  “Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and how thou faredst there.”

  Said the Hall-Sun:

  “I waxed ’neath the Roof of the Wolfings, till now to look upon