A storm rolls in from the sea

covering the land with black thunder clouds

rain whips the ground at their feet

as they come ashore in this foreign land

Thunder breaks the silence

of five hundred men assembled on shore

gazing through the misty rain

at the mountain not a mile away

so dark and silent it stands there

the mighty amon amarth

reaching for the cloud cloaked skies

so grim and fearful in might

With the wind in their backs they start walking

decisive men of the north

they stride through this darkened land

with only mount doom in their sight

the closer they get to the mountain

the clearer their eyes can see

a forest of one thousand spears awaiting

awaiting the battle that will be

A cry of war emerges

echoes over the field

warriors riding like wolves of the snow

boldly charging the enemy lines

With weapons so fearsome and sharp in their hands

and shields of oak wood and steel

they slit open stomachs and split skulls to the jaw

intestines cover the field

The defenders are weak in this brutal war

the northmen have power and guts

a bloodshed like no one has seen here before

none can escape their cuts

Arrows with fire fly through the air

torching houses and shields

the vikings can feel victory is near

as the enemy headlessly flees

A gust of wind blows in from the north

clearing the clouds away

as twilight falls and the stars come forth

and the seawolves return to the bay

Corpses lie scattered all over the field

for the ravens to pick as they please

the mountain is now left there behind

as they sail with the first morning breeze