Where has the sun gone from us? Where is the moon lost to us? The moon will not gleam at all. Nor will the sun shine at all. Death open's it's mouth, the son of the Northlander. Came to look, to listen. "There beyond the river is hero walking" He took one step and hurried another. To the North's shore he hurried. He drew his sword, wrenched the iron. Snatched from the sheath the harsh one. Upon whose point the moon shone. Upon whose hilt the sun flashed. Upon whoes back a horse stands. He uttered a word, spoke thus, "There the sun has gone from you. The sun gone and the moon lost"
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