Chosen as an einherji for a valiant death,

Retrieved summer's sword in flailing breath,

Escaped Helhiem by an inch of length,

Valhalla's warrior in blood's bathe.

Ordered a quest by Odin the great,

To retrieve the Norns' silk of fate,

Failed to comprehend the enemy's bait,

Trapped between glory and Death's gate.

The warrior of Odin stood pale and white,

In Midgard's soul, in the barrow of Wight,

Never meant to be a warrior, never to fight,

Yet his trusty sword in his stout right.

The frost of fear kindling his brain,

The warrior of Odin in tempting pain,

Had everything to lose , nothing to gain,

A warrior's death, again in vain.