\m/Heavy Metal Thread\m/

"I remember as I looked outside that night. The sea was calm, and the stars in the sky were veiled by a thin, hazy mist. The shore was more silent than ever, yet I could not sleep. I watched how the birds shivered on their branches; why are they so restless, I wondered, as if they would have been waiting for something. Later I understood that death had whispered to them, as it would have whispered to us had we known its language."

"Whilst dawn still kept us waiting, they arrived. Six gracefully ornamented ships, long and narrow, drew their outline in the fog less than a mile away from my window. I watched as armed men, one after another, waded ashore and lit their torches; and at first they were so silent, silent as the shore itself. I put out the candle on my window, hoping that my presence had gone unnoticed, and fled."

Draw your arms! Draw your torches! Now go and destroy! All shall you burn!
No pity deserved, slay them all!
Your homes you left for your vengeance, now take it and fulfill your fates!
You craved for blood, now go and stain yourselves red!

The highest of flames the sea reflects, the prideful dragons rest in between.
Observing destruction, with their eyes on the axe and sword of the slayer.
One runs, tears an arrow from his back. So many drowned in streams of blood.
The highest of flames the sea reflects, sun veiled by the black breath of fire.

So it rises... the firestorm!
Pitch black blood it aims!
Painting the sky... the firestorm!
Skinning the earth with flames!

"It was a raid for revenge, even if I did not know it at the time. The men were from the same village, from far across the ocean, which we had laid our fury upon a year earlier... and I remember, how one of them had stayed with us to trade; a renegade who did not want to return to his own, and from him we bought the key to the destruction of his people."

Plunder! Ravage!

The day dawns on in the distance.
Across the seas are the men with their swords.
No one here.
The village lies unprotected, but none can tell.

The dawn sends off a swift attack, house after house in flames.
For many the day gets an early end. What was written later, all can remember.
How he arrived, how he watched the rooftops burning, saw his beloved falling.
Arms were not lowered. On dying lips was the place where they came from.

"Not many of them were left alive. But a strong will to fight they had, and new swords could always be forged. As the winter and spring still lasted, they built six of the most beautiful ships I have ever seen, and filled them with men gathered from all the allied neighbouring villages - thirty powerful northmen per vessel. Their ships were not afraid of the sea, and the men themselves were afraid of nothing."

And so are the men set out on their journey.
With their people on the shore waiting, perhaps in fear.
The call can be heard from a distance, now row!
With such defiance the young wait for their time.

Until at the mouth of the strait, a storm arises out of nowhere.
With ease even the strong are pulled into the wake.
To the Northwind Orm now shouts full of rage.
This ship you will not fell! Grab the ropes my men!

"Perhaps it was one of their gods that finally calmed the fierce wind that had been tormenting the shore all summer. How could anyone of us have foreseen the destruction it would later cause us; all I remember is someone cursing how the roaming cattle must be penned because of the fog. But the birds knew, and they kept silent, and listened."

No shore so silent.
Look to the sea, feel the weight of water.
Such wrath it carries.

On those meadows lies a deathlike peace.
Movement halts. Heavy mist rests on the fields.
Soon dusk will fall. No sight of the sea.

Some still bargain at the market place.
Some never left home in the morning it seems.
Somewhere a downcast sheep chews on its grass.
A hungry and restless shepherd standing by its side.

The dense fog is of no help on one's journey.
The travels of the sea are known to none.

"That night, when I lit that candle on my window... it didn't betray me, even if I believe that it should have. I remember how I could see torch after torch being lit up, but the men themselves stood waiting for something; and they talked. Without waking anyone up, I ran up to the nearby hills, hoping that the others would wake up by themselves and know to escape. Those men had not come for me, nor for any of those who would soon be dead."

Fury in the eye encounters fear.
House after house in flames.
The crossbearer now has blood on his cloak.
If gold can be found, it's taken.

Plunder! Burn! Kill! Vengeance is taken now!

"The renegade they were after, had once found his way to one of those nearby towns on our shores - which are often favoured by tradesmen - as part of a pillaging trip together with a group of northmen. He was a powerful warrior, but did not care much for reputation, blinded by gold as he had been. And he later came to us, offering us the opportunity to raid his people of all their riches; and we paid him for the information he provided us with."

And so finally the wanderer finds the village.
A sword on his side, glimmering in the sun.
Longspoken he is, while raising his pint.
Much interest in the words of a traitor.

From far beyond the sea he arrived.
Far beyond the sea he left his kin.
A moment of uncertainty, as he fingers his hair.
Doubtful it is that he will ever return.

His kin is wealthy, that much he tells.
Something the greedy villager is pleased to hear.
Not does he know, towards his grave he is walking.
Deceit to be reclaimed by death.

"And that morning, as we were setting sails towards the village of the traitor we had traded with, he departed us. I saw him myself when he had already passed the last house by half a mile, with the bag of gold we had given him on his shoulder. Hence I know, that these men who later attacked our village never found him."

The blood of the traitor belongs to us!
We'll have it, even by burning everything down.
Now he shall pay for what he sold.
Hell awaits the one who forsakes his kin.

And no one knows, not could they see.
The earth challenging the fool far away.
In silent infamy his story found its end.

"I do not know how many days I spent in my hiding, for the black smoke over the burning houses covered the sun; and those houses kept on burning for long. Perhaps they took off with their ships already the same night, but I did not dare return to the village so soon. And as the firestorm finally settled, the shore was just as silent as ever; but the people were dead, and the birds had flown away."

Soon shall the flames dance by themselves.
The beautiful shore left alone below the skies.
The silent one ties his wounds.
So are the ships set out on their way.

A broken voice somewhere in the distance.
Hear a rowing man as he sings alone.
With his pockets full, heading east.
The glow of fire shows the way through the night.
And the wind will lead us home.