[expand]The sword worshipped at mound was simultaneously representative of all swords and actual deity in itself. Every warrior’s blade participated in the divine nature of altar-sword, drew power from central weapon, required similar respect and offerings. Before battle, warriors would speak to their swords—not prayers to abstract god through medium of weapon, but direct addresses to blade itself, acknowledging its power, requesting its cooperation, promising blood if it performed well. This was not metaphor or poetic license but genuine belief that sword possessed agency and attention.
The care of personal weapons took ritual character. Blades were cleaned not merely to prevent rust but to purify them, removing contamination from previous use. Oil applied to metal was understood as feeding the sword, maintaining its vitality, keeping it strong. Whetstones that sharpened edges were touched to lips before use, transferring breath and life-force to blade through stone intermediary. When sword broke in battle—disaster requiring extensive ritual response—the fragments were carefully gathered, sometimes buried in small mound mimicking great sword-altar, sometimes reforged with elaborate ceremony intended to repair not just metal but divine essence.
The inheritance of swords involved religious ceremony. When warrior died, his blade did not automatically pass to eldest son or nearest relative. Instead, the sword’s acceptance of new wielder required confirmation. The inheritor would perform offering before family hearth, speak to blade explaining relationship to dead owner, demonstrate skill through practice cuts and forms, await sign of acceptance—dream from deceased warrior approving transfer, successful hunt using inherited blade, victory in first combat. Only after such confirmation was inheritance complete and new warrior considered true owner rather than temporary guardian.
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