1. |
Foreboden
03:30
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Lo, Feoh, lo.
Lo, Feoh - fleeced of flight and foal.
Ur-oxen tire.
Ur-oxen tire of tithe and toll.
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2. |
A Gainsaying
01:55
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3. |
Lorn and Loath
07:35
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Weary hearth-fire,
Will you smolder a while?
Warm her, heart-lorn and loath.
Homely barrow,
She'll be yours alone.
My grave lies afar.
Hoary wildwood,
Where within, a rood,
Bends its bough to lift me.
Lithely moonlight,
Name a path and I'll ride.
Fleet of foot, whitherto.
Have I faltered?
Am I shorn from my wyrd?
Hewn of hope, lorn and loath.
Upon the high wind,
I hear a wordless tongue.
Upon the high wind,
whither a calling come.
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4. |
Hunted
04:23
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Waxing, weaving,
Winds of the wayward
Howl and take their toll.
Roaming, reaving,
Rooks of the Rimeland
Swoop upon my soul.
Hackled, heaving,
Hounds of the Hinderland,
They stalk amain.
Cursed, cleaving,
Calls of the cunning
Keeper of the slain.
Rider.
Raider.
Reder.
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5. |
The Woodwose
00:52
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6. |
Of Thralls and Throes
05:11
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7. |
The Swans of Gar's Edge
06:33
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Ashen, berimed and worn,
Shivering by the shore.
Borne upon sheets of ice,
I am forlorn.
Bitten by frost and fright,
Blind in a field of white.
Glowering ghosts arise,
Hither and nigh.
Great are the Swans of Gar's cold Edge.
Chidden by trothful eyes,
Wordless yet wholly wise;
Who for an oath that I’ll
Ever abide.
Great are the Swans of Gar's cold Edge.
Still are the wings that once were fledge.
Fair is the twin that maddens least.
Bound are the mouths of wiser beasts.
Wings of the wakeful,
Born of a thaw yet nigh.
Words of the wealsome,
Sworn to a soul on high.
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8. |
Maidens of the Rimeland
03:49
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9. |
Fellowship
01:49
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10. |
Sprig to Spear
05:44
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There's a shadow etched in stone,
Of a likeness to my own -
Were I fearsome, born of war -
Were I feasting at the High One's Hall.
There's a rising tide in me,
Pulling forth a swollen sea.
Should I storm Death's hefty door?
As a wave that hammers on the shore?
I see the Hanging Tree
That tethers me
As I fare forth.
With a burning blade in hand,
And a breed now come to brand -
There, a blaze I will to grow -
Where a shadow feeds upon the glow.
I see.
As a spear, I am thread,
Through the woven darkness -
Gift of Gar.
As a spear, I am thread,
Through the woven darkness -
Seek and sew.
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11. |
Fire in the White Stone
08:27
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I am the spark, and mine is fire
In the White Stone, I bear.
Wielding a sword to slay the liar,
Binding the Night's Blackened Mare.
Heeding a call, a wordless bidding,
Lo, as a sprig sprung to spear.
Reckoning with a foe well-hidden,
Met with a blade, sharp and sheer.
There is a light that longs for dark.
Holding aloft a beam of blessing,
Bane of all frost, hand of thaw.
Sifting for sorrow I may lessen,
Keeping the oath, as I swore.
There is a light that longs for dark,
Yearning for Winter, cold and stark.
There is a light a-gleaming 'pon the blade -
There is a Fire in the White Stone.
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