Beneath the Surface

Hail to UllR, master of Ydalir,
quick-thinking son of golden-haired Sif,
god of the winter, god of the north.
With skis strapped tight, with bow at the ready,
you travel, swiftly and certainly,
through thick-grown woods, branches bare
of leaves, coated with glittering ice.
In clouds of breath hanging still in the air;
in cold so piercing it stings our lungs
and numbs gloved fingers; in children's
sleds on well-packed hills; in grey mornings
spent crouched, bow in hand, waiting for deer,
UllR, we know you, we feel your might.
Hail to UllR! Hail the bow-god!

Skadhi, challenger of the gods, bright bride of Njord,
we welcome you. As green leaves turn brilliant in hue;
as each step grinds them, crisp and dead, into the earth;
as keen-edged winds tear at us, heralding your return.
Grant us safe travels through your season, O Skadhi,
keep our footing firm, our path straight on slick-smooth ice.
Grant us good hunting this year, shining bow-woman;
grant us sharp eyes and steady hands. Hail to Skadhi!


UllR, glory of the gods, swift and surefooted
son of Sif of the golden hair, we welcome you.
On broad fields and in tangled woods we see your might,
snowshoe-god, hunter, bowman whose aim never fails.
Grant us good fortune, UllR, god of the far north,
as we tread on crusted snow, gun or bow at hand,
watching for quarry with which to fill our larder
and feed our families well. Hail to UllR!


(And finished almost a month early! Woo! :))