Aglæca

Tremble, Heorot! Hear you what I need:

Give me something to shoot, a sword to swing,

Give me a hated enemy that bleeds!

Give me a mug of ale and bards that sing

The songs of my greatness, my strength, my might.

I have slain ogre and bested monster!

Give me your virgin daughter for a wife!

Pray, have I not won glory and honor?

Why, then, do you not bow at my coming?

What more must I do for you drop to

Your knees? Whose blood must I spill, heart drumming

Like warsong? What armor must I cleave through?

Frail things pass me. I am alone and tense.

Who must I kill to make this world make sense?

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