A dark rune-marked forest under the northern lights

MYRKVID

Where sky-fires braid the crowns of pines
and rivers run with starlit cold,
the old road threads the rune-carved lines —
and all who walk are seen, and told.

The Old Wood

Myrkviðr — the “mirk-wood,” the dark forest of the old North — is the boundary the sagas set between worlds. In the Eddic poems it is the wood you must cross to pass from one realm into another: swan-maidens fly through it in the Völundarkviða, the sons of Muspell will ride through it at the world’s ending, and in the hero-lays it stands between kingdoms the way night stands between days.

No map marks where it begins. That is the point of it.

Myrkviðr · Mirkwood

In Literature

The wood keeps returning. Tolkien borrowed its name for his own dark forest, by way of William Morris, who took it from the Edda. Older doors stand open, free to any traveler:

A Later Verse

You think you left the forest — look: the towers are trees, the wires are vines, and every glowing window-hook hangs lantern-light between the pines.You never left. The wood came too. It learned new names, it wears new bark. And somewhere, padding soft as dew, a black cat keeps you from the dark.