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<em>Kennings in the Community Workshop Notes, University of Cambridge, 18 p.
Skaldic poetry encompasses particular types of verse composed in Old Norse (medieval Scandinavian) from the early-ninth to late-fourteenth century. It is often characterised by its complex metrical structures, its riddling syntax, and the liberal application of an idiosyncratic form of metaphor known as the kenning. For the most part, skaldic poetry deliberately courts obscurity, reveling in word-play, irony, ambiguity and surreal imagery. It is important to bear in mind, however, that skaldic poetry varies greatly in terms of genre, theme and style, and thus these claims of obscurity and complexity by no means ring true for all poetry classified as skaldic.Contents: Skaldic Poetry: A Short Introduction. The mead of Óðinn. What is skaldic poetry? Preservation. Metre. Skaldic Diction. Some skaldic examples….
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Skaldic Poetry: A Short Introduction We’re going to begin with a little story. It’s about the origin of poetry and it starts with spit. Back in the days of myth, two bands of gods, the Æsir and the Vanir, waged a heavy war. They eventually forged a peace agreement and, in order to seal the pact, they each spat into a huge vat, comparable in size to the great well of Memory which lay at the roots of the World Tree. What happened next was a wonder to all. As the spittle intermingled, the liquid began to move and shape itself into a living being. Óðinn, chief of the Æsir, named the being Quash. It turned out that Quash was the wisest of the wise, but he was restless and went roaming far and wide to quench his thirst for knowledge. One day, when Quash was journeying in the east, he came across the dwarves Fjalar and Galar. Fjalar invited him to their home and they seemed nice enough, so Quash accepted the invitation. Maybe it was by accident, or intention, or in the heat of an argument that it happened, but the outcome was certain alright: Quash was killed at the hands of Fjalar and Galar. Perhaps Quash was not so wise after all. Fjalar and Galar acted fast. They drained the blood from Quash’s pale corpse, blended it with the sweetest of honey, and then left the mixture to brew in a barrel. The mead they created was so intoxicating that anyone who had even the tinniest sip would utter honey-‐sweet words and poetry would rush from their mouth like a fierce river. The dwarves put it about that Quash had perished from a rare brain disease; his head had become so full of knowledge that it swelled to an impossible size and exploded. It happened soon after this that the giant Suttungr arrived at Fjalar and Galar’s underground hall. These mischievous dwarves had murdered Suttungr’s parents and he had come to claim the intoxicating mead as compensation for the evil deed. When the dwarves refused, he tied them up, rowed them out to sea, and left them on a skerry to drown when the tide became high. Fjalar and Galar didn’t much like the thought of drowning and, as the cold waves began to lick their ankles, they called out to Suttungr and begged him to return them to land. He could have the mead, all of it. Having acquired the precious mead, Suttungr divided it equally into three vats