Concavia: The Gyden Firalah.

Firalah has many titles: Healer, Hunter, Queen of the Wilds, Helper of childbirth, Mother of Man and Lady of the lake.

Each god and gyden has a craft of making they are best known for; for Firalah it is all the deer, wights, herds and flocks of the world. Through years beyond reckoning, her steady hand shaped their breeds and ways. She is also the wife of Woodir and with her husband Woodir she brought forth the silvern folk of the Albes. Yet maybe one of her greatest gifts to Concavia was the making of man-kind from the dead boles of an ash and an elm. Here is the part from the Cosmogony about that:

Two trees of thrift || twinned and seemly,

Goodly Florawah grounded || in her green wood.

An ash arose || with athwart-boughs.

An elm ember || in even’s hush.

But Duneos danced || in dawning winds.

He drove dark storms || through drifting heights.

By hap he loosed || a heaving gale.

No mean will moved him || yet might burst forth.

Lightning leapt || and lashings tore.

Trees tumbled broken || to tearing blast.

Then sorrow seized || the stormy god.

He looked on loss || with love and dread,

On the two trees || truest dear to her.

He fared to Florawah || in full rue.

He swore surely || to set things right.

He sent them south || with sorrowing winds.

Trunks tumbled downward || from timbered hill.

To sea’s sandy edge || where Sea-lord dwelt.

“Brother,” he beckoned || “bring me thy help.

Can water wright || what wind hath harmed?”.

The Sea-lord spoke || both soft and low.

“My waves may weal || but wake not life.

Yet Firalah’s fair craft || may foster hope.”.

So on swell and stream || the saplings were borne.

Where Firalah’s field || lay fair and wide.

And beasts were bred || in the bosom of care.

She weighed their wish || with willing heart.

“Bodies are my business || but bid I to help.”

She bowed and breathed || on the broken rind.

In the wounded wood || warmth did swell.

Sap became sweat || and sinew woke.

from ash arose || the aforemost man.

Followed from elm || the fairer kind.

Made they for mounts || mares full-swift.

Back they both rode || with breath of wind.

To Florawah’s frith || the fairest of groves.

She saw their shape || and sang with glee.

Blessing them both || her beloved ones.

For from four gods || forged was man-kind.

As with Duneos, I’ll draw a background for Firalah at a later date so that each of the divines will have a matching profile in the book with a consistent style.