För

Head up to the moor with me, Heads shall fly tonight. The gods give us strength. The gods give us strength to defeat. Friends, your bloodthirsty army Shall aid me tonight. The gods give us strenght. The gods give us strenght to defeat. Now I swear and strike with my sword, I hit the neck and hew right through. My horse is tired, I am wounded. The glacier looms high over us. Bloodied with a broken hand I fight alone through unknown lands. I still hold on to a glimmer of hope, The warrior Óðinsson. Walk towards doom and death, There wait ravines and swamps. There the wild trees Pull you down and throw you onto your knees. Make use of daylight and the red night, Refuse to walk into a mire. Be careful of the trees. To Tyr, Thor and Odin we fall to our knees. Impassable routes and beasts of death, Kill the one who runs away. Push onward, heathen men, The heavens will fall soon. Our numbers dwindle fast, Torn asunder bit by bit. I still hold on to a glimmer of hope, The warrior Óðinsson. My kinsmen and blood brothers, Follow me across impassable lands. He dies who was doomed to die, He endures who means to succeed. I head up on the moor, I head the worst route. I still hold on to a glimmer of hope, The warrior Óðinsson.