Designs based on the Dithmarschen Mjölnir from Germany. Believed to be the oldest Hammer yet found. However the Kent is older. This hammer is characteristic of Saxon long hafts hammers.
After forever the forge is back in action. Trying to find a trip to Denmark/Germany. no customs just what is on here is available for now. Not back to knives yet. Hammer arm is a bit rusty yet.
Old English: ūht (< *unhtwaz), ūhta (< *unhtwô) Middle English: *uht (found in compound uhtsang, uhtsong); Middle English: uhhtenn, uȝten, ughten, oughten (< Old English ūhtan, oblique form) Old Saxon: ūhta Middle Low German: uchte German Low German: Uchte, Ucht → German: Uchte (“midnight mass”) (regional) Old Dutch: *ūhto Middle Dutch: uchte, ochte (various forms are attested, including nuchte through rebracketing, uchten/ochten from the case forms, and rarely uchtent/ochtent from the previous by analogy with avont (“evening”)) Dutch: ochtend Old High German: uohta (irregular); *ūhta Middle High German: uohte, ūhte (both rare) German: Ucht, Aucht (both only in placenames and compounds) Old Norse: ótta Icelandic: ótta Norwegian Bokmål: otte Westrobothnian: ótt’ Old Swedish: ōtta, ōta Swedish: otte, otta Danish: otte Gothic: 𐌿𐌷𐍄𐍅𐍉 (ūhtwō)
Bonus:
Lagustrǣt (ocean) literally “Water-road”.
Old English: strǣt, strēt Middle English: strete, streete, stret, strate, street, stræt English: street Scots: street, streit, stret → Breton: straed → Cornish: stret → Welsh: stryd → Old Irish: sráit (see there for further descendants) → Old Norse: stræti (see there for further descendants) Old Frisian: strēte North Frisian: Föhr-Amrum: struat Mooring: stroote Saterland Frisian: Sträite West Frisian: strjitte Old Saxon: strāta Middle Low German: strâte German Low German: Straat, Stroot Old Dutch: strāta Middle Dutch: strâte Dutch: straat (see there for further descendants) Limburgish: sjtraot, straot Old High German: strāza Middle High German: strāze Alemannic German: Swabian: Schdrôs Bavarian: Stråßn, Strossn Apeltonerisch: Streoss Mòcheno: stros Upper Bavarian: Straß Central Franconian: Stroß Eifel: Strooß Hunsrik: Stros Luxembourgish: Strooss German: Straße Rhine Franconian: Schdrooß
And
West Germanic: *lagu Old English: lagu, lago Middle English: laȝe, lawe, laie, leye English: lay Old Saxon: lagu Old Norse: lǫgr Icelandic: lögur Faroese: løgur Norwegian Nynorsk: log Norwegian Bokmål: låg Old Swedish: lagher Swedish: lag Old Danish: low, lou → Scots: lyog Gothic: *𐌻𐌰𐌲𐌿𐍃 (*lagus) (> 𐌻𐌰𐌰𐌶 (laaz))
Hilda Roderick Ellis Davidson is quickly becoming a favorite author of mine. Great detail and everything kept in context. I do love comparatives though I am biased.
Late is my departure from this station far afield-
I know too well the night upon I ride-
hooves through ice rip on moor and heath-
the cold night air cuts my face like the sword of winter-
my mistake now inflight hard born to the back of my horse-
the moonlit frozen fields giving solace-
before me swelling in black the holt awaited my ill fated journey-
the closing in of the night sky I know who rides on mist and moonlit ray-
Herne with hound, Woden Shinning Eye-
my faithful gold comb holds the line-
blackened oaks reach for heaven as if clutching hands from the mound-
the narrowing path closing in alas, the oak gate is in site-
the flickering of Elven eyes behind each stone and post betray my flight-
I have drawn the gaze of those unseen in this midwinter charge to home-
merry I made too well and left my host to late to escape the swelling night-
there it it is the gate of the wood-
reigns taut and pace held fast as the cover of oaks break-
a swell of mist has taken the moor, the wind has grown restless-
the path now obscured still bearing hard, a visage doom in the mist grim and unmoving-
upon a ghostly steed the figure stood, a hunter with hat and cloak in grey-
my horse stopped cold as if by unseen reigns, my personage thrown thusly to the earth-
my wits shattered with the doom of my situation-
the hunter now dismounted towards me moves like an eagle to prey, I fail to stand awaiting the cursed spear-
The figure spoke: Know I do you traveler? brave dumb or both is any man in want to wander on such a night-
I lay speechless, The figure spoke: Stand up now son of men. The figure put forth his hand ghostly white in the light of the moon-
In my state I grasped the hand and was pulled to my feet-
The hunters face obscured but for a glint of his one eye-
he returned to his horse procuring a flagon-
The figure spoke: Of this drink take for all chill should leave you traveler-
I drank from the vessel a brew of strange import, my eyes saw, ears heard and of sudden importance could see as if daylight shown-
The Figure spoke: Take to your mount traveler, us to join you are required-
My eyes now gleaming from the brew could see the hunters and hounds in a host of ghostly fury all around me-
To my horse I took, the hunter with spear outreached touched my horses reigns and as if by the haunting ring of that iron doom myself and horse became as the host-
The figure Spoke: Ride hard son of men, cut the sky and moonlit night , the souls await our roaring host-
Ride I did with the host, a booming throng, from the lands bellow came men of ancient times each brought up into the host-
a fleet ghostly horse given until the host could hold no more-
over town and wood we rode bringing the departed Wigenda to our fray-
My mind was lost, sight blurred as the fury rolled-
Awakened by my horse under an oak with still clinging to green, old gold comb you are still in good standing-
I looked upon myself to see if mortal wound had befell me but Lowe to my hands did find ingots of gold-
among the gleaming bits a strange addition did I find, an amulet of a mask with horns becoming birds, it shown blue as if fired from within-
my journey of which could never be told to another I kept at heart-
on the witching night of those old fires, of that old Winterfylleth tide the amulet would begin to ring and glow until the Yule had passed-
To the holt I returned some winter eves but to only hear the din Woden Shinning Eye passing with his furious hunters in the ghostly mist.
Fin-
obviously by influenced other poems, myths and folklore but In my own words.
First forging since 2018. This amulet is inspired by a variety of sources, Primarily Hallstatt style spiral brooches but also Bronze age Axe cultures across Central and North Eastern Europe. The Axe could represent any of the Axe wielding Thunder Gods from Perkuns, þunar or Perun.