Beowulf - A new treasure.

Wayland

Hárbarðr
Many objects have the names of the maker. I thought more a very short story, about your life up to the msking of the object.

Insert the paper in the book. For the trunk, fold the paper, cover with a suitable sized brass plate, a screw in each corner.

Wife also collects pocket watches with verge movements ( made before approx 1720). Some pw nerd made some incredible research about 100 years ago about makers of those watches.
With that book you can still make some exciting watch finds.

An interesting idea. I'm doing something similar in a family history box I'm putting together. Hopefully objects such as these will remain in the family where they have more context, but who can tell.

It occurred to me, while researching the family tree, that everyone has a story to tell and sometimes we only get glimpses of it, mostly through census documents every ten years.

Some of the objects, pictures and documentsI have collected from the last four generations tell a little bit more of those stories but recording some of the actual stories could be a treasure trove further down the generations.
 
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Aug 4, 2013
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Berkshire
Yes, as an archaeologist I often wonder about artefacts. Also why they are where they are.

Some years back I found a Japanese carpenters line marker at the car boot. One of those carved ones with the string going through an ink well. How did it get here? Its hardly the sort of thing anyone would bring back from Japan...

...A Japanese chippy come here to work?

Anyhow, on story telling.


I was sorting through `The West Country Magazine` a long defunct periodical from the late 40s...found a tale marked `The Pack of Cards`

Its the story of a poor soldier arrested for having a pack of cards in church. He defends himself by explaining the symbolic meaning of the cards, 4 suits for the 4 apostles, etc, its a delightfully clever story.

But I remember it as being the subject of an old country and western song I heard on the radio many years ago, -cant recall details, -the presenter said it was a request, and one he had had difficulty in tracking down.

(Anyone recognise this? Whose song is it?)

In the song version the tale took place in the American Civil war, -and in the printed version it was the English Civil war....
 

Wayland

Hárbarðr
Beowulf-Cover-VI.jpg


The next project now sitting on my work bench.

Time to give this a little progress.
 
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Tengu

Full Member
Jan 10, 2006
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Wiltshire
Mec feonda sum feore besnyþede,
woruldstrenga binom, wætte siþþan,
dyfde on wætre, dyde eft þonan,
sette on sunnan, þær ic swiþe beleas
5 herum þam þe ic hæfde. Heard mec siþþan
snað seaxses ecg, sindrum begrunden;
fingras feoldan, ond mec fugles wyn
geond speddropum spyrede geneahhe,
ofer brunne brerd, beamtelge swealg,
10 streames dæle, stop eft on mec,
siþade sweartlast. Mec siþþan wrah
hæleð hleobordum, hyde beþenede,
gierede mec mid golde; forþon me gliwedon
wrætlic weorc smiþa, wire bifongen.
15 Nu þa gereno ond se reada telg
ond þa wuldorgesteald wide mære
dryhtfolca helm, nales dol wite.
Gif min bearn wera brucan willað,
hy beoð þy gesundran ond þy sigefæstran,
20 heortum þy hwætran ond þy hygebliþran,
ferþe þy frodran, habbaþ freonda þy ma,
swæsra ond gesibbra, soþra ond godra,
tilra ond getreowra, þa hyra tyr ond ead
estum ycað ond hy arstafum
25 lissum bilecgað ond hi lufan fæþmum
fæste clyppað. Frige hwæt ic hatte,
niþum to nytte. Nama min is mære,
hæleþum gifre ond halig sylf.
 
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Wayland

Hárbarðr
Some enemy deprived me of my life
And took away my worldly strength, then wet me,
Dipped me in water, took me out again,
Set me in sunshine, where I quickly lost
The hairs I had. Later the knife’s hard edge
Cut me with all impurities ground off.
Then fingers folded me; the bird’s fine raiment
Traced often over me with useful drops
Across my brown domain, swallowed the tree-dye
Mixed up with water, stepped on me again
Leaving dark tracks. The hero clothed me then
With boards to guard me, stretched hide over me,
Decked me with gold; and thus the splendid work
Of smiths, with wire bound round, embellished me.
Now my red dye and all my decorations,
My gorgeous trappings far and wide proclaim
The Lord of Hosts, not grief for foolish sins.
If sons of men will make good use of me,
By that they shall be sounder, more victorious,
Their hearts more bold, their minds more full of joy,
Their spirits wiser; they shall have more friends,
Dear ones and kinsmen, truer and more good,
More kind and faithful, who will add more glory
And happiness by favours, who will lay
Upon them kindnesses and benefits,
And clasp them fast in the embrace of love.
Say who I am, useful to men. My name
Is famous, good to men, and also sacred.

Riddle 26, Book of Exeter.

A book, most likely a bible.
 

Tengu

Full Member
Jan 10, 2006
13,011
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Wiltshire
I was a weapon, a warrior—
Now pride covers me, youthful bachelor,
with gold and with silver, twisted wire knots.

Sometimes men are kissing—
sometimes I summon familiar comrades
to battle with my voice; sometimes the horse bears
me over the marches; sometimes an ocean-steed
fares me over the flood, bright with baubles;
sometimes some ring-adorned maiden fills my belly.

Sometimes I must lie on the tables,
hard, headless, plundered. Sometimes I hang,
fretted with fittings, beautiful on the wall,
where men are drinking, noble battle-tackle.

Sometimes warriors are carried on their horses,
then I must, studded with treasure,
swallow the winds from someone’s bosom.

Sometimes I invite proud warriors
to wine with my voices; sometimes I must
rescue what has been stolen from wrathful men
with this crying of mine, putting the robbers to flight.

Ask me what I am called.

This is my riddle. (and not even one of the risque ones)
 

Wayland

Hárbarðr
I'll leave it for someone else because I know most of them.

Beowulf-Cover-Dragons-and-Nicors.jpg


This is the design work that is going to fill the main panels. A mixture of dragons, nicors and serpents which are all mentioned in the text.

The job now is to scribe the lines onto the plate before chasing them. That should keep me busy for a while.
 
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oldtimer

Full Member
Sep 27, 2005
3,317
1,988
83
Oxfordshire and Pyrenees-Orientales, France
I was a weapon, a warrior—
Now pride covers me, youthful bachelor,
with gold and with silver, twisted wire knots.

Sometimes men are kissing—
sometimes I summon familiar comrades
to battle with my voice; sometimes the horse bears
me over the marches; sometimes an ocean-steed
fares me over the flood, bright with baubles;
sometimes some ring-adorned maiden fills my belly.

Sometimes I must lie on the tables,
hard, headless, plundered. Sometimes I hang,
fretted with fittings, beautiful on the wall,
where men are drinking, noble battle-tackle.

Sometimes warriors are carried on their horses,
then I must, studded with treasure,
swallow the winds from someone’s bosom.

Sometimes I invite proud warriors
to wine with my voices; sometimes I must
rescue what has been stolen from wrathful men
with this crying of mine, putting the robbers to flight.

Ask me what I am called.

This is my riddle. (and not even one of the risque ones)
Battle horn?
 

Wayland

Hárbarðr
Metal-Workbench-800.jpg


A couple of people have said they would like to see how I go about metal work like this cover I'm working on at the moment.

I don't do videos but here is a picture of my bench, with work in progress.

I usually do this kind of work on living history displays so the bench is a bit different but the tools are essentially the same.

Most of the work is done with three small chisels, each half the length of the next one. The hammer on the right applies a gentle tap and you move the chisel along the line. Simple but requires careful attention.
 

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