Horses gallop through the night,
onward towards that fateful fight,
riding in moonlight,
by that fateful right.
Oh, Hero Young rode on tonight
into Black Lung’s snare
forward to face the fright
of which none can repair.
Heroes to the left of him,
Heroes to the right of him,
Heroes in front of him,
Yet silence there was.
All to be heard was a splash
from that fateful galloping night,
for the air was full of fright,
for the coming thrash.
Oh, Hero Young rode on tonight,
yet not filled with fright,
for he had to live, but not for himself
but for his Dear Betrothed Elf.
yet, a light shown anew.
Light within his Warrior heart,
For it was not time to depart,
It is the time for glory,
and to return with this hallowed story.