2 Vitki

Onward and onward, the vitki goes,

Guided by the sounds of ravens and crows.

Walking under the pale moon's light,

On his quest for spiritual sight.

Far from his home has he gone.

And farther he'll go till light of dawn.

With a dark grey cloak and staff in hand,

A knife at his side to make his brand.

He carves the runes in the oaken bark,

Chanting the names of the elder futhark.

Ancient letters of mystical power.

Hallowed during the twilight hour.

The path is covered in shadows of trees.

Have no fear, for the raven sees.

Suddenly a thirst accosts his throat.

But no curse shall stay with the devote.

There on the hill is a dreamy sight.

A tavern in the forest, under moonlit light.

Alfather's wisdom, the vitki heeds.

For it is caution that he needs.

And so he spies from the window sill.

He moves so stealthily, an acquired skill.

The tavern hosts an odd batch of souls.

Of elves and dwarves, witches and trolls.

The door creeks open with an eerie sound.

The music within is cheery and loud.

Out comes a maiden with beautiful skin.

With a seductive look, she invites him in.

The vitki is wurry, tired and worn out.

It might be nice to lounge about.

Such an odd place, is this tavern,

Where crooks and monsters will gather.

He's sat at the bar and given a drink.

The maiden encourages with a wink.

The vitki looks down to inspect the mead.

The smell attests to a strange breed.

As he drinks, something comes over.

But this doesn't feel like a hang over.

As the music plays, he loses his mind.

Joining the dance of a magical kind.

The creatures sing with gleeful cheer.

But, hark the Sun! Dawn draws near.

The vitki wakes up in drunken state.

His head is pounding, his stomach irate.

There he lies under the bright sun light,

Contemplating what happened last night.

What an experience thou shalt hath,

When you travel along the raven god's path.