Rígsthula is a mythical origin tale that presents the ordering of human society as self-evident and divinely ordained: the social order, classes, normative gender roles, and the hereditary nature of status. Precisely for that reason, the text calls for retelling, now that the world has changed and inclusive narratives are needed that resonate with the present. What follows is my brief take on the tale, told in that spirit.
The Lay of Spark the Stranger, by Frigga Asraaf
Once in Midgard, in the middle of ways,
a god of old strode.
Spark the Stranger he called himself.
He saw two spouses, their hair silvered with years.
Wide open stood the door of their dwelling.
In he went,
hailed by the hearth flames,
and he met great-grandparents Edda and Ái.
They sat in the sun and told many a tale,
sharing wisdom shaped by long living.
Warmly they welcomed the stranger,
provided him food, freshly baked bread,
soup and other savoury fare.
After their meal they felt pleasantly full
and laid themselves down to sleep.
In the middle lay Spark.
Three nights in a row,
then forward he fared
on midmost ways of his quest.
Nine moons hence
Great-Grandmother
gave birth to three babies.
He came to a couple, capable and keen.
Wide open stood the door of their dwelling.
In he went,
hailed by the hearth flames,
and he met Grandparent and Grandparent.
Both were blithely busy,
careful they carved and crafted,
and spun some silken skeins.
Warmly they welcomed the stranger,
provided him food, freshly baked bread,
soup and other savoury fare.
After their meal they felt pleasantly full
and laid themselves down to sleep.
In the middle lay Spark.
Three nights in a row,
then forward he fared
on midmost ways of his mission.
Nine months hence
to Grandparent and Grandparent
a single baby and twins were born.
Third, he found a pair, fair and free.
Wide open stood the door of their dwelling.
In he went,
hailed by the hearth flames,
and he met Parent and Parent.
Together they tilled greens and grains.
Glad-hearted, they wrought and worked.
Warmly they welcomed the stranger,
provided him food, freshly baked bread,
soup and other savoury fare.
After their meal they felt pleasantly full
and laid themselves down to sleep.
In the middle lay Spark.
Three nights in a row,
then forward he fared
on midmost ways
back to Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge.
Nine moons hence
three babies to Parent were born.
Each child was welcome and wished for.
Together the ninefold grew up,
with the gift to be genuinely themselves.
They tumbled and toyed to their heart’s delight.
They learned to share both joy and sorrow,
to their capacity knowledge and craft,
and made many a skill their own.
They learned to live, full of fire.
Breath and being,
sense and hue blooming
were once given by gods
to the fair folk of Midgard.
Spirit was stirred
by the spark of the stranger.