Baroness Jehannine de Flandres is my husband's household-sister and friend of two decades. He held the chuppah at her wedding; she brewed beer and wine for ours. We were told she was being put on vigil at River Wars in the East. We were further told it was a vigil for her brewing Laurel.
As it turns out, it was for her Pelican. But we didn't learn that until after we'd composed poems in her honor.
We'll write service poems for her eventual Laureling.
Long winter nights white with hoar-frost
Dark and cold hall comfort has fled
Sad are the men strong-armed warriors
Fire gives light but little cheer
Tearful the bride at table in hall
Her wedding feast frugal and mean
No horn of mead honey-brew fine
Came to her hand to carry in hall
Scop's voice is weak withered his throat
Gold would he give for a gladdening drop
Mead or good ale either be welcome
But hall is dry and harp-strings go silent
Lord does not laugh on long bench he sits
Watching his bride weep from her eyes
Sees that the spirits have sunk in his men
Hears that the scop can sing no more
Unhappy that man no mead in his cup
Bee-gold in jars benefits none
Without skilled brewster brave-voiced woman
In cauldron makes magic mix honey and water
Brings forth a brew no better thing
Makes warriors bold boasting begins
Men are merry mirthful in hall
Dry-eyed young bride horn brings to the scop
Poet drinks deep prepares a new song
Glad-wood sings out strings struck anew
Frost still without but within, joy
Fellowship fine friends laugh together
Holding at bay harsh winter cold
Brewster's good work wild dark tames
Grendel and dragon denied at the door
No monsters enter while mead sweetly flows
Pleasure and joy poured into cups
Brewster's secrets secure in her breast
Wise is the woman such wonders can work
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