A Song for Dredd Amadon

A Song for Dredd Amadon
The following was used to appease the Fae assassin Dredd Amadon for the creation of the Sword of Tears.
Original script

Leodum ir minum rwylce him mon lac gife;
willad hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.
Ungelie is us
Wulf is on fete, ic on oþerre
Fært is on þæ eglond, fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige;
willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.
Ungelie is us
Wulfes ic mines widlastum wenum dogode;
þonne hit pær penig wefer ond ic reorugu ræt,
þonne mec re beadugara bogum bilegde,
wær me wyn to þon, wæs me hwæþre eac lað.
Wulf, min Wulf, wena me þine
seoce gedydon, þine seldcymar,
mernende mod, naler meteliste.
Gehyrest þu, Eadwacer? Uncerne earne hwelp
bireð wulf to weda
þæt mon ealþe torliteð þætte næfre geromnad wæs.
Uncer giedd geador

Harts Translation (Translated by l’Ume of the Beastmen)

To our people he considers to give them gifts
I will consume them if I come with troop
Unlike are we
Wolf is on an island I on another,
Fast be that island surrounded by fen
the home of angry savages
I will consume them if I come with troop
Unlike are we
I desire my Wolf’ who is wanderings hoping for the day
it be rainy and I can sit and cry
in the arms of my bold ahroun
be my joy but then also be my hate
Wolf, my Wolf, I hope you’ll be mine.

Its sickens me thine seldom-coming,
My heart mourns to be not at all hungry.
Can you hear what we hear, Eadwacer? Our cubs are running
beared by wolf to the woods
that I easily tear never to be joined
This is the riddle of us together.

The Bard Guild’s Translation (Translated by v’Ar and Falcon)

Our people shall be as he was and remember his sacrifice.
My home will not fall before the threat of force.
Unlike are we
Wulf is our glory, I will be another
Our land we shall not leave
For it I will fight with ferocity
I will consume any threat
Unlike are we
I long to follow the Wulf’s path this day;
As the rain pours I sit and feel joy,
For then I am ready for battle,
This is my joy, this is my hate.
Wulf, my Wulf I long for thee
When it is said that you rarely come
I shall not let my spirit grow weak.
Sisters, art thou Eadwacer? The whelp runs
To the cruel wood
Alone, this one is easily harmed.
This is our tale