Sword Chant

[Grim man's tale:]
[I:]s breath

No grief for the fallen ones
The search for the sword has begun

[Carved in stone:]
Great as the mountains and seas
Grim as the earth and old trees
Made from the glimmer of golden lakes
Chained with fire that never fades

Rocks and stones they carve and mould
when the rivers run fierce and cold
May this chant haunt your past
for this Sword is yours at last

Raise the arms the battle is near
Through the mud and waters clear
The blood is coloring the lands again
A sign of victory the wind will send