Something I have learned from attempting a Norse form of epic poetry is that poetry can rhyme in more than one way.

We are accustomed to poetry which rhymes at the end of each line, but poetry does not always have to be built with a roof and four pillars.

Norse poetry grows out of the soil. Leaf rhymes with leaf, and branch with branch, but it grows up with wildness, woven like the Norse carven arts.

Sometimes it intentionally dodges direct rhyme.

Lines are not the same length, and things rhyme in a sort of heavy or light spirit.

Rushing footwork fleeted is set in contrast to stoneyard and garden.

I must say that like others before me, I have found a growing love for the Northernness Lewis spoke of. It is something absorbed like water on roots, rather than the learned craft of setting a table on four legs.

Both are wonderful.

But if you wish to write in the language of legend, an Arthurian spirit will do well, but consider too the Norse ship of the dwarves to row slowly your story across the sea.