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Etin of Ice 

With stars overhead and steed underside
The thane of ice floes filts his dreadful ride.

Sword and halter in hand
His journey that treads not over the land.

None have the strength and all men are fey
To battle the man who was never a knave.

Wind-Cold, Spring-Cold, Very-Cold, no man knows his name
Save for the Three Elders who journey in Woden's Wain.

He casts his grim shadow upon the night
With his unending yards and geysers of might.

He is all that is wet and cold
And no other knight can ever be so bold.

Clyde Silbernagel


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