The Middle-World,
consumed by strife,
and ice.
Brothers defile sisters,
fathers murder sons,
the Great Winter,
spares no one.

Bonds burst,
and hatred,
poisons his mind.
The Sly One,
slips free from his,
sorrowful bonds.
Revenge he will seek.
Blood he will spill.

The Wolf runs free,
the Nine Worlds sundered.
The Great-Devourer,
born from Deceit and Anger,
shall consume existe...

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In the distance I see him there,
smile spreading cross face,
hate and fire filled eyes,
he will be my demise.

With a mighty roar,
he advances.
Earth shaking as he sprints,
My fate is sealed.

I spur my steed,
Steel my nerves,
Focus my eye on the Wolf,
Knowing I will die,
I am calm.
My aim is true,
I throw the Swaying One,
and the Wolf yelps in fury.

Blinded is he,
by spear an...

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I know myself hanging there,
on that windy tree,
whose roots are unknown,
a sacrifice of myself to myself,
Wounded by my spear Gungnir,
for nine long nights and days I hung,
No food nor drink was brought to me,
Sinking into death they appeared,
Reaching out with a scream,
I grasped the runes,
and sunk from the tree,
with a sigh.

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Banished for an act not committed,

I am cursed by my fate,

A prophecy they said,

foretold by the Norns,

of me devouring Allfather.

Cursed I am,

by my blood.

Son of Chaos,

Mischief was expected,

I am not one for tricks,

Despite my wily father.

Cursed I am,

by my strength

and pride.

They used this against me,

told me it was a test of strength.

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