From fimbul shadows of my life's forest
Ever have you watched and smiled, 
Ever have hidden, elusive as air
And let me wend my lonely way, Wolf God, 
Outcast, but not alone.
Wolf that stalks me, One-eyed Wanderer,
Your grey shape shrouded in fog,
Always glimpsed, like glamour only, 
But able as iron to slip between my ribs
A comfort cold and bright
As the sword in Winter's hand,
A wind that frees the sunlit snow 
To fly from frozen peaks.
When the warg hordes wail
And raucous ravens take flight,
Staunch friend, steadfast comrade are you,
To those few whose fear of ghosts 
Is forgotten for Fjolnir's sake.
Hroptr, how the false fear you 
As you move, grim and deadly among dark trees,
Not bound by Midgard's laws
A chilling threat to churls and cowards.
Wild Tempter into Madness, Woden,
Whirlpool into which I willingly fall,
Elusive yet near,  hidden yet true, 
Shield me,   Soul-shelter,
Unseen, Allfather,  yet aid me:
Forge my soul into a sword, wrought by Wod,
A blade well balanced to your use
Wielded fiercely against all that is fearful,
That I may proudly claim your patronage, 
Until bright brands of  bale-fire call
Forth upon my sleeping form spells of flame
And the winding smoke on winds from the North
Bears me, most blessed of beings,
At last to ecstasy and eternal duty
In your silver shield-roofed  hall;
In higher battles with Herran's hordes
Behind the shining battlements of Asgard,
I shall look upon your face, Lord of the Slain
Masked to mortals for its blinding beauty!

Havi, Herran, Herjafadhr!