Down from the wilds of the mountains they ravaged,
lawless men in a rough, screaming horde.

In from his fields Sven Carlson came, and took up his shield, spear,
and sword.

All ‘round the district of Østfold they rampaged,
daring any fool to resist.

At the fjord bridge Sven stood and faced them, his long spear
clutched in a fist.

They attacked as a mob, like a wolf-pack,
recking nothing of rules or fair play.

Yet Sven stood the bridge like a pillar, in a one man battle array.

Wild men fell at the thrust of his spear,
others he cast to the fjord,

And when his spear lodged in a hauberk, grimly he pulled out his

It was hack, thrust and parry as the stinging steel sang
in the air of that high craggy span.

And the mob, gashed, and bloody, gave their cringing respect to the
wrath of the lone fighting man.

So the lawless mob scattered and limped their way back
to their cheerless camps in the hills.

And Sven bound up his wounds, leaned his sword ‘gainst his hearth,
and went back to his fields to till.

Former soldier and security professional, Rob is now splinting people’s bones — rather than breaking them — as a Medical Assistant in an urgent care clinic.  His Spec-Fiction, Historical Fiction, SciFi, and Fantasy tales have appeared in a wide variety of publications.

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