Sigurd's Song from Shieldbrother by Isenmor

Sigmund lay there dying
Bleeding in the field
In battle he’d been found
By the hooded stranger’s spear

Hjordis ran up to him
But he would not be healed
Revenge on Volsung’s killers
Would not be his to give

The son that Hjordis carried
Unborn but glory bound
Would wield the shards of Woden’s gift
Cast by Sigmund’s side

In disguise Hjordis was taken
With Alf to Hjalprek’s court
Taking Sigmund’s gold and arms
And there Sigurd was born

Hear of Sigurd, son of Sigmund
Known to all with northern tongues
Hear a mighty hero’s tale
The greatest of the Volsung line

Hail to the day! Hail to the sons of day!
Hail to the night and her kin!
With gracious eyes may you look upon us
And give victory to those sitting here
Hail to the Aesir! Hail to the Goddesses!
Hail to the mighty, fecund earth!
Eloquence and native wit may give to us two famous ones
And healing hands while we live
-Lay of Sigdrifa

To a mighty man Sigurd grew
Regin taught him well
Chess and runes and foreign tongues
As king’s sons need to know

And Regin spoke to Sigurd
Of a place called Gnitaheath
Where Fafnir lay and slumbered
On riches yet to win

A sword Sigurd would need
And he bade the smith to make
Two swords did Regin forge
And two swords did Sigurd break

So the shards of Woden’s gift
He gave him to reforge
The anvil and the wool were split
By the broken blade reborn

‘Twas named Gram, that shining blade
Brynhild’s waker, Fafnir’s bane
No better hand than Sigurd’s could
A blade find with a taste for blood

Hail to the day! Hail to the sons of day!
Hail to the night and her kin!
With gracious eyes may you look upon us
And give victory to those sitting here
Hail to the Aesir! Hail to the Goddesses!
Hail to the mighty, fecund earth!
Eloquence and native wit may give to us two famous ones
And healing hands while we live

Vengeance, Sigurd sought
From a longship’s prow
To Hunding’s land he went
And battle he began
With Gram he cut a bloody swath
Through horse and man and mail
He paid the sons of Hunding well
For Sigmund’s death upon the field

With his father’s death avenged
Regin bade him keep his vow
So to Gnitaheath they rode
To Fafnir’s desolate home
A hole Sigurd dug in that barren heath
To await the serpent
And strike him where he’s weak
That dragon crawled to water
Spitting poison at each breath
Over Sigurd’s hole he crawled
And the hero saw his chance
He plunged Gram in Fafnir’s heart!

As burning blood touched barren earth
The terror helmed could taste his death
Words came with his breath’s escape
What mere boy could bring his end?

Cursed rings bought with a father’s blood
Brought the hoard-guard judgement of Norns
As the clouds covered his eyes
Warning words became his final cry

Spiteful words one would expect to flow from a serpent’s tongue
But traitorous mouths sometimes speak with truth
Motherless son, that cursed gold, will only bring your doom
That bright and glowing treasure, those rings will be your death!

Oh serpent, by a young man slain
Cleared vision as blood runs from your veins
Know now cursed gold your ending
Your last breath’s a wasted warning

The coward Regin emerged from hiding, with Ridil he opened the beast
Brother’s blood he drank and took his brother’s heart to make his feast
As Sigurd cooked Regin lay plotting death for Sigmund’s son
But by fire’s bite and speech of birds Sigurd learned of the traitor’s mind

What more could one expect
From one who brought his brother’s death?
Sigurd took up his mighty blade
And took the head of the smith
He took the rings and the shining gold
And with them bought his doom
He left that land on Grani’s back
To Hindarfell he rode

A burning mountain with a rampart of shields and behind a sleeping maid
With Gram he cut the flesh binding mail, and the shieldmaiden awoke
A daughter and a slayer of kings, gave battle’s ruler to Sigmund’s son
Runes she taught him and rings they gave to seal their tragic vows

Sigurd rode out from that place
Glittering gold made rich his vestige
A dragon blazoned on his arms
So serpent slayer all would know
To Heimir’s home he came
Men marvelled at such a figure
A place they offered in their hall
So he might make their glory greater

The battle maiden won by Sigurd
Bore the dragonslayer’s son
But lust for glory ever called him
And he left for Gjuki’s land

Sword strife strong were Gjuki’s sons
But all could see Sigurd was stronger
Grimhild sought Sigurd as a kin
With cursed tricks, forgetful ale she brewed
Gudrun served that memory poison
Sigurd drank it deep, forgot
So he took the hand of Gudrun
None knew what great doom they’d wrought

Grimhild thought Gunnar should marry
Brynhild past the wavering flames
Sigurd took his form to cross them
And Grani carried back his master’s bane

Brynhild still loved only Sigmund’s son
But she could not tear him from young Gudrun
A maiden scorned, consumed by revenge
A heart of malice, she planned Sigurd’s death

Guttorm took his sword
As Sigurd lay in sleep
He stood over the Volsung
And plunged life’s taker deep

The mortal blow woke Sigurd
He gave Gram his last work
Guttorm’s torso left the room
But his lower half did not

Fire made ashes the final bed of Fafnir’s bane
Wood eater consumed the greatest man of any age
The life so strong that dragon’s breath and battle could not claim
Could not escape the cursed fate that Otter’s gold had gave

And as he burned already bards began to sing his lay
Kvasir’s gift keeps living, he who treachery has slain
For northern tongues will always praise great glory that was earned
And all true sons of northern lands remember Sigurd’s name!

Sing of Sigurd son of Sigmund
Let northern ears hear his name
Sing a mighty hero’s tale
The greatest hero man has made

Hail to the day! Hail to the sons of day!
Hail to the night and her kin!
With gracious eyes may you look upon us
And give victory to those sitting here
Hail to the Aesir! Hail to the Goddesses!
Hail to the mighty, fecund earth!
Eloquence and native wit may give to us two famous ones
And healing hands while we live

• Anglo-Saxon
• Folk Metal
• Metal
• Pagan Metal
• Viking Metal
• celtic metal
• Baltimore