An Entirely Anglo-Saxon Story

This piece is an experimental work of etymology. I aim to write an entire story using only words which originate in Old English roots. I am sure this has been done before but I shall continue nonetheless.

Image by Kreuzschnabel/Wikimedia Commons, License: artlibre

At the bourne of a bustling borough, old Osmund reared his silver steed. Throughout the day flocks of goldfinches flew ‘round his homestead. A sign of good luck. A sign of good tidings. Off he rode into the dale, beyond the leek patches, and lo and behold, before his brown eyes stood a whispery wight. “Good evening Old Osmun- I come with great news,” said the ghastly ghost. “ A day yonder over yon hill lies hidden booty. Answer this riddle and take your worthy pickings”

“Goblins and dwarves make swords

Horses and pigs hew words

But what does man do over fjords?”

The riddle had no answer thought Osmund —gibberish of words. So out pulled Osmund his blade and tore to pieces the knave. And off he ran over the hill, finding by luck, the booty aforetold. Only a looking-glass was behold. So the wisdom of our tale we are sold — greatest booty lies within — greatest booty is ourselves.

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