Raised in the army, I am a soldier's son,
Among men of all brands, I have grown..
First a waterbringer or blowing the horn,
Then a spearman, all my life long..
Geirdrifa, battle is calling!
Beneath the White Tree, I make my stand!
Mordor's servants are coming!
They shall fall by my hands!
I am a soldier!
True as can be!
My blood boils hot,
as death claims the foul!
Fiery is my spirit, fuelled by stories,
about northern heroes and their past glories,
Now my spear stabs, seeking for fame,
Every foe is a step, to a greater name.
Geirdrifa, battle is calling!
Beneath the White Tree, I make my stand!
Mordor's servants are coming!
They shall fall by my hands!
Over water, grass or stone,
the battlefield is my home!
The sight of the troops' spears,
sparks lightning in my veins!
But on a hot summer's day..
When easterlings were yet running away...
I found a beauty wrapped in chains,
She showed me love which did not wane,
Geirdrifa, battle is calling!
Beneath the White Tree, I make my stand!
Mordor's servants are coming!
But she led me astray..
