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Cold sharp hail is blown into my face by a storming wind. |
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I take shelter in a small wooden church near the black woods. |
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A choir sings some songs of praise for their lord. |
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For I while it makes me forget the sorrow |
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I am in. ' |
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In distress we call to thee, we await thy return, for the forces of evil are closing in upon us, but with thy help we can live beyond our lives' end, o |
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Lord accept our gratitude for thy sacrifice.' |
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I hear a call in the distance, it startles me. |
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For it seems like the call of a dying man, |
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I ascend my horse. |
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As we leave our shelter to challenge te raging storm. |
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I hear the shrieks of a falcon from within the fog ahead of us. |
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Amazed to hear a falcon's shriek in this time of year. |
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I ride towars the branch on which the falcon sits. |
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I feel a cold shiver as |
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I enter the forest in search of this man. |
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With the falcon as my guide, and a bastard sword at my side. |
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A strange feeling that makes me a bit sick tells me |
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I am near. |
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The source of the horrible scream, which |
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I heard a short while ago. |
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The slain body of a warrior is what |
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I find here. |
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It looks a bit familiar but |
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I cannot seem to grasp it. |
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Death takes even the best of us. |
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Away from the world of the living. |
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I wonder what the cause was. |
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For the death of this man. ' |
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Dost thou not see the war that plagues the land, our enemies gather before our beloved city?' |
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His face carries a strange expression. |
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He seems to have been content. |
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I wonder if there's more to it. |
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Is there a truth in the books of old? |
