It was a warm day at early spring, the sun shone strongly. There clad in dark colors the people of Honungmaerc had come together, split apart by a procession of strong men with dour grieving faces. Upon their shoulders shields were bared, which thereupon a man lay with a sword clutched in his elderly hands, his grey mane neatly combed and braided, his lips were pursed and no longer drew breathe, his brow was frowning curious in the last moments before his heart ceased to beat.
Ahead a menhir was being raised, upon which a druidic man was yet drawing about the many adventures and accomplishments of this deceased chieftain of men. Upon it's raising three tall young men had their mouths upon piped objects and a heartbreaking wailing filled the air. A fourth would sing and his voice was steady and pleased almost.
Do not worry friends, today we share our grievance,
and shared sorrow always hurts half as much!
Then he spread his arms and a wide smile appeared on his stubbled features. His voice began to sound over that of the weeping huddled women.
Look here a famed hero of our folk, our leader and our friend for most our lives!
Do not fret, my friends, do not fear his passage unto the afterlife!
For he leaves this earth of pain and mischief far behind!
The strength he had, the joy he brought, the sharpness of his mind served him well!
Untill our own time has come, untill our flesh shall fade, we must now say farewell!
Yet rejoice , for where he goes, he passes through the winter of his life!
Rejoice, for where he goes, he finds himself in a spring reborn, that shall never end!
Then drummers walking in front and the back of the procession would thump with a rythm that holds the promise of the beginning of great saga's and the promise of the downfall of vile beings that should heed Man's presence.
Farewell our leader, farewell our friend!
We offer you what you need,
to join the Hunt!
Sword of iron strong!
Food if the walk is long!
Torches if in dark you must wade!
Clothes to not be naked!
And your hair and beard braided,
when you will find your woman there again!
Upon the last words spoken the man raises his hands, as so the druid-man did so and they looked up at the sky. Then the bearers laid the remains of the dead hero in a mound, with all the possessions he would need on his last journey and once that had been done a stone was rolled in front of the grave, then with a last grinding slam the finality of the burial was anounced.
Up in the sky a hawk flew over and at it's cry the people of Honungmaerc went to feast in the man's memory.
