s Grimhild woke to find herself
Alone upon a far-flung shore
She spied a house upon a shelf
But, looking ‘round, no sign of Thor.

She trudged toward the light above
And wondered why the god had left.
Through orders that she knew not of,
His absence left her heart bereft.

She clambered up and looked inside
But, seeing no one, went within
Lest bone-chill in her be denied
Its cry that warmth might touch her skin.

While sitting next to burning coals
A break from hunger she desired.
She served herself a warming bowl
Of food that cooked above the fire.

“You are enjoying your new home,”
She heard a scolding voice surmise.
She turned to see the withered crone
Which was Jarnsaxa in disguise.

“It’s not my home,” the girl replied,
“Though it is lovely, all the same.”
Then Grimhild turned away and sighed,
“How to return from whence I came?”

“You can’t return,” Jarnsaxa said,
“There’s too much sea ‘twixt here and there.
But, rather, let yourself be fed
So pregnancy won’t be impaired.”

The meaning of Jarnsaxa’s words
Struck deep in Grimhild’s battered heart.
It fell, as though it were a bird
Pierced by a hunter’s well-aimed dart.

The girl began to cry hot tears
For burdens ‘pon her shoulders piled.
But wracking sobs could not shake fears
She held of life alone with child.

Between her shudders, Grimhild wailed,
“I’m cold, alone and, now what’s more,
A child’s hopes are also paled!
Oh, that I’d never heard of Thor!”

Jarnsaxa, as she soothed the girl,
Felt anger seep from out her bones,
“Be calm, I would not deign to hurl,
You into motherhood alone.

“I’ll be beside you all the while
To care for you and every need
That's called for by your coming child
That oak may spring from mighty seed.”

So that is how it came to pass,
Jarnsaxa’s anger ne’er rewaked.
Her thirst for vengeance ‘gainst the lass,
The heartfelt tears of Grimhild slaked.