I still have a couple more to go, but so far, here are the chapter epigraphs from By the Mountain Bound, as paraphrased by yours truly.
in bondage now bides
the Wolf, 'til world's end
A seat of status, a post at table?
The gods shall never grant you.
Fenrir the Wolf-son of Loki, caged from a cub, grew so fierce that none would approach to feed him save Tyr, bravest of the gods; it was decided that the Wolf must be chained away from the realm of gods and the world of men.
The advice of the dwarves, clever craftsman, was sought. They wrought a cord to bind the Wolf out of the six improbable things: the footfalls of cats; the beards of women; the sinews of bears; the breath of fish; the spittle of birds; and the roots of a mountain.
The cord was flat and smooth as a silken ribbon--barely wider than a thread--feather-soft to the touch.
Unbreakable by god or man. Or Wolf.
(Yeah, I cheated on this one. )
Witch nor woman womb of hatred
Man-mother of monsters three
Threshold-crossing full foe-heedful
Unsounded doorways lead to dark doings
Lurkers loiter and lancing strike
Blame not blindness where passion binds
Witching wiles weed-twine the wise
Where fools walk unwaylaid
Wolf weaned on red war's carrion
Sanguine smears the seats of gods
Sun scarred black storms follow after
Would you know more?
With warlock words thou didst work
witchcraft in womanish ways
Who invokes Hel from her ice and anguish?
Ice-burned and storm-frozen
Dew-shrouded, I am aeons dead.
Whence cometh the sun
The smooth skies bestriding
Once Fenrir hath her consumed?
The warrior-god, wolf-destroyer
Better payment bequeathed me:
My grief-gift given voice.
And to song-craft supplied he
One more measure of mettle
A heart gorged on hate.
-- Sonatorrek, by Egill Skallagrimsson
I love this stuff so very much.
And yeah, um. This is not a cheerful book. Did I mention that? (I still probably have four more chapters to go.)