The Song of Seven

by Ierremod, Translated by C.M. Galdre

Hold sword-bearers,

keen thy ears and halt thy breath

Hear the wolf-written song of seven

On blackest marsh with barrow breath,

seven men stood with crownless king

The gilded shields of dead scholar lord

and his son, the wolfen warmed

Behind burned the crimson hall,

beneath black stones the crimson eagle lay twice slain

Before them bayed the cauldron born,

the dead mouths and the salt-slain

Hungered wights called for the flesh

of daemon bane and his spear lords

But stood with the mighty king, his brother wolf,

Ierremod black as death, who writ these runes

With wolf song, as so their blood of old,

the seven swords and king charged the plain

Upon the shadowed marshes old,

the kings of the north rode once more

On wolf back, o’re the field of blood

Oinar the cleaver, strong of blade, the forester of men

split grim horde as Hestremere among the waves

In his tread rode brother blades

in bloodwake, swift warmakers, thundering charged

Fiiltgar, bathed in life blood hues

Kiiltgar shielding flank

Fiiltgar, eyes wild, the bloodmad Devilboar

Bellowed forth ancestral thaume

Last of his line, the bloody Fiiltgar, danced his blade song

to his end, and the end of many foes

Kiiltgar, cousin of the slain, new heir of ancient line

drew up the song of fallen kin

Kiiltgar, path-maker, bloodletter, corpse-render

Well cut, the stone of Kiiltgar in honor raised

Oinar, flanks exposed, swift death approaching

arms wide, the wild destroyer, lead hungering horde astray

In fields of risen dead, three shields sundered

Now raised the crownless king, his shadowed blade

Of Darkness born, the edge of revenants

A new path forged of shadow-slain

Thonir, horsemaster, strong in seat and lance

Took point and guided lord and kin

Dorin and Norin, brothers shield and blade

Phalanx formed, guarded rear and flank

Banil, bloodmad, his eyes red

consumed by beast blood, and lived true to his name

Such as sight to see! The rage of the last berserk

dead wights cowering beneath his thundering blade

Beard, honored son, a hearty laugh within his throat

Struck up the song of old fathers

Halls of honored dead rang out in song, echos of the old North

Honor given to the berserk

Banil, son of Buril, son of Brygil, stood at gates edge

The song of his fathers upon his lips

Many iles ahead, and many behind

no rest from the dead, the grim-faced warriors

though peace of death ever nipped at ragged heel

Thonir his mouth full of dust, by desperate wight unseated

Stood his death stance, a warcry his dying breath

Dorin and Norin, fire filled, and anger blessed

Fell up on foe-wights, blades singing the true song

Thonir, son of the north, snow-loved

To Bone-gate, to helmouth

Beard, blade-bringer, king of an empty throne

Lept from wolf mount, his blade black and bloody

A circle formed, round Thonir’s corpse

A stand before the fall

Beard with shadow blade ablaze

Dorin standing tall

Norin eyes a burning furry

Ierremod answering ancient call

The Deadmarshed teamed, ghostflesh fingers rising

like skin of Pulstic, the fly bitten field

Long stood the sons of the hammerer,

warriors by blood and deed

By weakest wave, the strongest stone etched

so fell the brothers of the shield

Their blades wet, their muscles corded

Before the bone gate, their backs heavy beneath the dead

The courtless king, with brother bound

bloodied stood, a crimson reaver born of old

His eyes pale fire, the shadow came

not a king but a deeper darkness than the dread lord

The revenant reborn, vengeance fell as the makers hammer

blood his anvil, the dead brittle slag, the slain flew as sparks before the forge

Ancient curse, shattered by ancient fury

to putrid earth-womb the dead returned

On Tottenmarsh, where the dead still call

seven stones stand to bar the way

Oinar the Axe, may his blade never dull

Thonir the Sturdy, may his shield never break

Fiiltgar the Bloody, may his thirst never quench

Kiiltgar the Wrathful, may his anger never cede

Dorin the Strong, may his strength never fail

Norin the Bold, may his heart never falter

Banil the Berzerk, may his eyes never clear

Remember their names well Sword-bearers,

May you die as they: eyes open, blades wet

This article is my 14th oldest. It is 717 words long