In my youth, I dreamed of power;
With my youth, I paid.
I spent my youth, each filthy hour,
Sharpening wit and sharpening sword,
Slaughtering coward and slaughtering lord,
Wallowing deep in my blood-spattered hoard.
And thus grew the empire I've made.
In later years, I dreamed of treason,
Dreamed they'd steal my throne.
I cared not for their pleas or reasons.
They all sought to kill me, so justice be damned.
I ended their scheming with one harsh command,
And wreaked out sweet justice with my own bare hands,
And mortared my halls with their bones.
Dreams of living,
Dreams of death.
Dreams as real as dead stone's breath.
Dreams show me more truth than mortals could guess.
Whatever might be, my dreams show to me.
In waking dreams, I see a wolfen,
Poised and pale and cold.
He brings grey wolves and reindeer with him.
The wolves hunt and kill at their young leader's word;
The deer are insane and attack as a herd
In armor-clad fury I find quite absurd.
I am the Troll King!
This mountain I own!
I am mad metal's master and bright metal's hone!
And I won't let mere animals sunder my throne!
So capture each wolf born since I took my reign,
And hunt every reindeer and let them know pain.
I'll find every one, 'til no threat can remain,
And thus prove wrong what this dream has told.
Like the king that I am, I'll die old!