I wrote something...
We strive forward away from the abyss for it is not our time to die. The icy grip now melts away and Odin sees our reign. Accepted in dreaded belief, we set our sails from the north. I lost my son who has not seen even seven winters pass, the pain pulsates through my veins and to my heart as I grip my sword. It is the fimble winter of my rage and our content through homeage to our masters, we turn and glare at the horizon. We trust in the runes for they are ours to use. Let us be guided through, our ship, our axes, our spears and our swords. I will meet my fate one day, the fate of Norns where I will see the glory and dismay to be at one.