Brood of the Trickster کے بول

Warriors, hear my words Three are the tales that you now will be told Three bitter memories of times, foreign and old Three were my nightmares in which eternity swirled And three were the children that would ruin our world So much did the trickster despise his very own kind In the iron woods he looked and knew what he would find A giantess, a witch willing to carry his seed An unholy union was fulfilled, but to where would it lead? One would rule the oceans where humans swim and get their fish One would be strapped to a mountain with a final burning wish And one would be thrown to a throne most of us will see They were prisoners of their time, by Ragnarök set free