Along the hills of Cape Farewell, many stand. One that I particularly found interesting was this one. It tells the story of a bird.uinkaR flua
frá likama fukls
skiliast frá
þrilhálts blaki
likam iskanti
mut markana fali
uiþ farvilaR ásum
tia á lanti þunkt
fukl tiR
uinkaR fria
Wings flee the body of a bird. They are seperated from the chains of slavery, the demanding body. Falling towards the lands, towards the hills of Farewell, die heavy on impact. The bird dies, the wings are free.
And then in the runes, of course