The Last Drop Of Blood
It all began with a dagger sharp,
Which became a sword for its mark,
And with laughter, innocent and true
There high below the clouds, so pure,
Beneath the spy's dirtied wings and ruin.
Then, between cold snow atop, truly a mess,
And neath the mountain in the darkness.
There a fire hot ignited, by the not so dear,
And a troll made blow with a giant spear,
There the bridge quickly fell apart in tears.
Between ageless trees in golden woods,
And a break so bittersweet, but short to boot.
The soul of valiant warriors full of greatest sorrow,
Towards the river, and beyond the mountains old,
Besides where the ancient kings their stone-crowns wore.
The darkness covers the soul so tight,
The mind is locked, with a chain of might.
The shield - forgotten at the shade of tree,
O, the horn! So painful, so agonizing to see,
How it gifted its last note for the wind to keep.
With the body full of arrows great,
He went to his last battle - his fate.
Alongside himself, so wounded but not dead,
He took his enemies far away to meet their end,
Beyond the clouds, into the underworld they descend.