The Raid of the Drakkar Wolf

His memories returned slowly,

Deader than he had been,

But defining in the fog of his mind.

Thoromir, his name. throrheim, his place.

His enemy's name glamr, the high one.

He had taken them so to the south of vinland,

He had condemned them,

Only to be able to add some lines

In his declamation in the thing.

Before resting,

Before looking for his own tomb,

He would look for glamr and he would break it.

He would twist his neck,

He would pull up the meat of his column,

He would dismember it and he would devour it.

The warm seas had already been behind,

And behind them had been the cadavers

Of the sailors of every ship

That he had crossed with his drakkar-wolf

The infamous provisions that he had stored

Shrank day by day.

He adjured the waters, the winds, the clouds

So that they dragged it more swiftly

To the gelid north,

Toward the snow, toward the long nights.

He threw all the rotten leftovers,

And he dove in them.

The sharks wanted to add it to their meal,

But he took the form the ocean snake,

The form of iomungandar,

And too much late the sharks repaired

In that was an undead.

Thoromir incrusted his drakkar

Against the rocks of the coast

On earth only traveled at night,

Razing,

Looking for glamr,

Calling him loudly for his name.

A shepherd

In a valley,

Admitted him

That glamr had returned from vinland,

But that he had died from fevers.

The draugr thoromir howled of hate.