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 brakes 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 AMRATH   Reaching for the cloudcloked skies   So grim and fearful in might      With the wind in their backs they start walking   Decisive men of the north   They strive through this darkend 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   Boldley charging the enemy lines      With weapons so fearsome and sharp in their hands   And shields of oakwood and steel   They slit open stomachs and split sculls to the jaw   Intestants 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   Touching 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 eat as they please   The mountain is now left there behind   As they sail with the first morning breeze