The Dunking of the Witch
A Folk Tale from Skeinwael
When the War for the Crown reached it’s 100th year, came to an end the reign of Harald Knows-No-Fear as told here. Angrbode the giantess crawled over the edge of the world with her great fingers like the trunks of twisted trees clawing at the crags of Thruthgelmir. Calling Harald to her side she set upon the armies of Mycklegarth and Hamingjen with glee. Said Harald to the Witch:
In this field and hereabouts blood boils and sorrow stirs.
If battle be your broth then this land shall your cauldron be.
In time Harald found that he should shed his shield and boots so that he might swim in the sea of blood that rose around them, and when the enemy fled the giantess instead picked up the King of Hunters, bit off his head and drank his blood in a gulp.
Angrbode reached the black shores of Skeinwael in seven mighty strides and there she danced upon the bodies of the dead, until appeared a knight armed with a dozen spears. So loud she laughed that waves as tall as trees came crashing down around them:
What is this fool who knows not that spears shall never pierce my ribs?
To which the knight replied:
I am Rivenhart, and I shall deliver this land from you by sea and by storm.
The giantess lifted a foot the size of a field above the knight and brought it down upon him, but Rivenhart instead stuck his first spear into Angrbode’s bare sole. She howled in pain and tried again to crush the knight beneath her mighty foot. Into her heel he raised his next. Angrbode stamped down again, enraged. This time into her big toe struck Rivenhart with his third spear, and again and again.
When all the spears were buried in her feet Angrbode could no longer stand and over she fell into the sea whereupon she drowned, but not before she had drunk near half the water in it. The body of the Witch now lies beneath the waves where her blood turned to pearls in the darkness.