Come, fair stranger, sit by the fire.
There is a story I want to tell you.
An ancient story, a tale of wonder,
Told by my people, kept by loremasters.
I heard this story back in my childhood,
I have been told it by my grandfather.
Quite long ago he was a child, too,
And his forefather had been the teller.
In southern village, there lived a singer,
An honest person, like you and me are.
He sang his ballads for all to listen,
His heart was talking right through his verses.
Next by the village, there was a hilltop,
First in the morning to meet the sunrise.
He used to go there and wait for first rays,
To be inspired by waking light’s grace.
It was a morning like any other.
He came to hill side just by the dawn time.
The sun had risen and lit the summit;
He was astonished by what he saw there.
The first time ever, it was not empty.
Somebody else has come to the hilltop.
Outlined by sunlight, there was a maiden,
Who sat on big stone he used to sit on.
Sand-colored hair was moving softly,
Caressed by wind that was soft and pleasant.
Blue eyes were looking at the horizon,
Of singer’s presence, quite unaware.
It was a picture of northern beauty,
Brave, tall and strong, but still fine and fragile,
Like lovely flower grown through the ice crust,
Like young green leaf that had pierced a snow wall.
All slim and gracious, but filled with fire,
With resolution and will for living.
Someone to care for, someone to fight with,
Like a valkyrie of ancient legends.
One could imagine she was a daughter
Of warrior nation from icy country,
A fierce spirit when in a battle,
A tender soul for her beloved one.
This was the place she would not belong to,
This quiet hilltop all lit by sunlight,
Amidst the grasses and fields and forests
That had surrounded the southern village.
Enchanted singer was contemplating
The awesome vision, but never dared
To break the silence by saying something;
He was just standing, and was just watching.
He stood, unmoving, until the image
Has faded and then just disappeared.
His heart was aching with sudden grieving,
As if from losing a dear person.
He came to village, and all the people
Were all surprised to have seen him coming.
He had been missing for a full year,
And they were certain he’d never come back.
Yet he was there, just one day older,
His mind attracted to lovely vision.
He couldn’t wait for the other morning;
Before the sunrise, he was at hilltop.
The stone was bare. There was no maiden.
She was not there that day and next day,
And year later he was alone there,
Just realizing – she’s gone forever.
But he remembered her every feature
As good as back on that day of wonder;
To tell the story, he made a legend,
The one I told you, the fair stranger.