One ring to rule them all… the 9thc Kingmoor Ring

Very cool …

Esmeralda's Cumbrian History & Folklore

Picture time!

I bet you’re thinking, ‘ooh, that looks a bit like the ring in Lord of the Rings’. Well, you wouldn’t be far wrong. This ring is 9th century and made by anglo-saxons, and JRR Tolkien was an expert in anglo-saxon language and literature. I don’t doubt he knew the Kingmoor Ring very well.

It’s called the Kingmoor Ring because it was found at

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Viking Song

Tune: “Jingle Bells

Sailing o’er the seas
In an open dragon ship,
Trying not to freeze,
Hoping we won’t tip,
Clash of swords goes ‘cling’
Making spirits bright,
What fun it is to sail and sing
A slaying song tonight!

Hack and slash, hack and slash
Laughing all the way,
Oh what fun it is to be
A berserker today,
Hack and slash, hack and slash
Laughing all the way,
Oh what fun it is to be
A berserker today!

A day or two ago
We thought we’d have a fight,
And soon the Valkyries
Were gathered on our right,
The fight was long and grim,
Misfortune seemed our lot,
We broke into a battle hymn
But hoarse was all we got!


Now the ground is red,
Slay them while they’re young,
Crack an old foe’s head,
And sing this slaying song,
Just get yourself a sword,
Two-forty for the fray,
Then go and fight the enemy horde
Until they run away!


© 1992 Beth Wheeler

Chimera Chords – Andy & Beth´s Filk Page

Prayer to Thor for Strength


Thunder rolls, lightning strikes,

And the hammer flies across the sky.


God of the weather, chariot of the storm,

Master of rain and torrents,

Son of the strength of Mother Earth,

I ask you to grant me that strength for myself.

You who are so great that you cannot walk

Across the Rainbow Bridge without breaking it,

You whose tree is the mighty oak,

O Thunor, grant me that unending sturdiness.

Let me not break beneath the blows of misfortune.

Keep me from being crushed when the powerful

Stomp their large feet on the smaller ones below.

You who are the guardian of the common man,

You who care for the farmers and workers,

Look upon me here in this place where I am

Only one of many, and protect my steps.

Make me resilient and mighty as your own arm,

Make me unbreakable, you who are Friend of Man.

I ask for one small percentage of the vigor

Of the right arm of the Thunderer,

That I might brave the tempest

And stand firm in the gales.


Thunder rolls, lightning strikes,

And the hammer flies across the sky.

by Seawalker


Vikings and Native Americans



Following a subtle trail of artifacts, a Canadian archaeologist searches for a lost chapter of New World history.

By Heather Pringle
Photograph by David Coventry

Something about the strange strands didn’t fit. Patricia Sutherland spotted it right away: the weird fuzziness of them, so soft to the touch.

The strands of cordage came from an abandoned settlement at the northern tip of Canada’s Baffin Island, far above the Arctic Circle and north of Hudson Bay. There indigenous hunters had warmed themselves by seal-oil lamps some 700 years ago. In the 1980s a Roman Catholic missionary had also puzzled over the soft strands after digging hundreds of delicate objects from the same ruins. Made of short hairs plucked from the pelt of an arctic hare, the cordage bore little resemblance to the sinew that Arctic hunters twisted into string. How did it come to be here? The answer eluded the old priest, so he boxed up the strands with the rest of his finds and delivered them to the Canadian Museum of Civilization in Gatineau, Quebec.

Years passed. Then one day in 1999 Sutherland, an Arctic archaeologist at the museum, slipped the strands under a microscope and saw that someone had spun the short hairs into soft yarn. The prehistoric people of Baffin Island, however, were neither spinners nor weavers; they stitched their clothing from skins and furs. So where could this spun yarn have come from? Sutherland had an inkling. Years earlier, while helping to excavate a Viking farmhouse in Greenland, she had seen colleagues dig bits of similar yarn from the floor of a weaving room. She promptly got on the phone to an archaeologist in Denmark. Weeks later an expert on Viking textiles informed her that the Canadian strands were dead ringers for yarn made by Norse women in Greenland. “That stopped me in my tracks,” Sutherland recalls.

The discovery raised tantalizing questions that came to haunt Sutherland and drive more than a decade of dogged scientific sleuthing. Had a Norse party landed on the remote Baffin Island coast and made friendly contact with its native hunters? Did the yarn represent a key to a long lost chapter of New World history?

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