Waiting - Away from the mead of the feasting hall

Stooped and weary they waited,
The spears in the numb hands shivering
And the swords in their scabbards waiting
For darkness to fall,
And devour everything
So that the blood of war could flow.

The horses tossed their heads,
The rider felt his mail shirt, the ice cold steel
That may save his mortal life
Taking the strain of the heavy shield
Upon the aching back
That awaited the night to fall.

Twilight came, quivering moonlight
Graced the fces of the army,
Who stood there, holding onto hope,
For what was the use of anything else,
Away from the mead of the feasting hall,
They waited for the night to fall.

Away from the mead of the feasting hall
They waited for the night to fall.

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