(by Spaerunn Helgardar)
High in Yggdrasils boughs, past the bridge of Bifrost
Near the plains of vast Vigrid, where all one day pay the cost
Sits a hall so grand and fair, bright and yet strong
Roofed with thousands of gold shields, with five hundred forty doors long

The place is Valhalla, the Hall of the Slain
Where Einherjar will feast, and Walkjura are famed
Where warriors do battle, and Walkjura join the fight
The slain rise at the end of the day, and drink gloriously by night

At the head of this table sits the All-Father bold
For Odin is all-wise and this lore is often told
For no matter your allegiance, or your nations great intrigue
Not skin will matter at all for Odin truly gains Sig

At the end of all time, when Ragnarok draws near
The Einherjar gather mightily, to battle without fear
To push back the hordes, to see the world become anew
When new gods bless all, and all life renews.