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~ By Courtesy of Others ~



Winters three shall there be.
Heimdall blows his horn, and a great battle is born.
Brave men will not flee, as Surt marches for the World Tree.
Etins, our enemies forsworn, shall asunder be torn.

Spears will shake, and shields will break.
Fenris swallows Odin in that fight, and Vidar shall slay that wight.
Of glory skalds´ songs were spake, as etins´ lives we take.
Nigh does that end our plight, with honor we die, giants win this fight.

Thor battles Midgard´s serpent, and in the end both are spent.
With naught but stag´s antler did Frey battle Yggdrasil´s burner.
Across Bifrost they went, and our swords they bent.
Deeds win us honor fair, perhaps songs of us tomorrow shall hear
from the line of Lif and Lifthrasir, of old heroes and the Aesir.
But in end all that will matter is that no one gave in to fear.

© Justin Kostelecky


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