Upon the North wind rides two terrible twins.
Seekers of hidden knowledge the two fly from frosty peaks into the nine worlds.
The secrets of all things living and dead are uncovered by the two, black are their feathery flanks.
At evening the perch on the shoulders of an old man, sharing the secrets of their findings.
Drinking from a horn full of mead, the old one meditates on the days events as Ragnarök approaches.

Pierced by many arrows Ragnar stand upon a heap of corpses, a mighty gift for his God Ásagrimmr.
Alone on the battlefield with his nemesis, he runs in for the kill.
Death is a guarantee for him, yet he has unfinished business.
His foe's eyes burn with a fire that matches the pits of Muspelheimr.
The clanging of steel rings out into the darkness, and Ragnar's foe drops to the ground;
his head falling separate from his body.
A smile plays on the lifeless head of the fell man's face as Ragnar falls to his death;
a grievous wound struck to him.
The last thing he sees is a winged woman of surpassing beauty kneeling beside him.

Stirring from his meditation, the old man looks up as the great door to his hall abruptly opens.
A red mane woman, clad in bright mail enters; a stout bloody man at her flanks.
"This is Ragnar, the warrior you sent me for" she said with a voice like the sounds of stirring winds and running streams.
He paid no heed to the warrior, nor the Valkyrie, for he saw the a sign of troubled times;
a sign he had feared to see.
The first snow had began to fall on Asgard, and the month was June.