“Verily it was no child's play,
When Sigmund and Ossur met that day,”
Swords alight with fury and bane,
Determination to slay or be slain.

As blood-sworn brothers turn,
As greatness brooks no spurn,
Verily these now-heroes of old,
Each gaze the other does hold.

There can be only one victor,
To emerge from the wrack,
Seize the other by the throat,
Of that surety—no lack.

Words given, oaths taken,
There is no withdrawal,
The span of a breath,
Crowned ambition;
One outlasts the other.