(ŠAvathar 2006)

The land silent, before the storm
in a ruthless land, dark and cold
a might from the days, from the days of old
rises in wrath, in silver in gold

Winds of War
echoes from the past
sure ohta lamina vanwie

A dark hate, grew in the endless void
twisted by the iron hand, and the darkest will
a will to dominate and enslave
an evil power, older than the world

Over the shadow mountains
to a dead land
an army fair and terrible
whose spears sparkled in the rays of the sun!!

The sands of time grew old
on those seven years so is told
a siege unbreakable
under the flaming sky


Glory and honour
won on those fields of battle
blood was shed and death flew on swift wings
many of the greatest fell
this story of it tells

Standing on the edge
an alliance not seen in ages
winds of war, end of the ringlord
sure ohta lamina vanwie