Far in the north, the wolf howls alone the Legend untold, of the Fallen Hero. Among men and elves, he fought the black horde, to escape from his doom and claim what he lost.
By glory deeds he forged his fiery soul, under the eyes of Melkor the Dark Lord. Soon in the end, he’ll leave from this land, because the truth can kill even the strongest heart.
Upon the hill of sorrow lies your name. The rain flows on your grave, like tears from the sky. Hail to the Black Sword! Black sword of black doom!
You murderer against yourself, your wrath towards the elves and men. The victory in Morgoth’s hands, they will cry for those who don’t deserve to die.
Far in the south, the eagle sings loud, the Legend untold, of the Fallen Hero. Among men and elves, he lived far from home, to escape from his doom and claim what he lost.
In Nargothrond you forged your mighty sword, under the eyes of Melkor the Dark Lord. Soon in the end, you’ll leave from this land, Hear the call of death, and die by your hand.