Sleipnir, Steed of the All-Father

medieval folk, folk ballad, dark ambient folk

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In Asgard’s halls where the gods held feast,
A wall lay broken by giantish wrath.
They sought a bulwark both strong and high,
To guard their realm from the coming dark.
A builder came from the mountain wild,
With shoulders broad as the ancient stone.
“I’ll raise your rampart in one winter’s span,
But Freyja’s hand and the sun and moon I own.”
The gods took counsel and struck the deal,
One winter only, no mortal aid.
The giant smiled with a crafty eye,
And harnessed forth his mighty steed — Svaðilfari.
Chorus:
Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Eight-legged glory,
Child of trickery, steed of the All-Father bold.
Across the Nine Worlds your grey hooves thunder,
Bearer of Odin through fire and cold.
Day after day the great stones flew,
Dragged by the stallion so swift and strong.
The wall grew tall as the winter waned,
And fear gripped the Aesir — the bargain seemed wrong.
They turned to Loki, the silver-tongued,
“Fix what you wrought, you bringer of woe!”
So Loki laughed with a glint in his eye,
And slipped away where the wild winds blow.
He took the shape of a mare so fair,
With coat like moonlight on winter snow.
He neighed and danced in the moonlit glade,
Till Svaðilfari broke free and followed.
All through the night they ran through the wood,
While the builder cursed and the work stood still.
The final stones lay unplaced on the ground,
When the deadline came — and the gods had their will.
The giant roared and showed his true form,
But Thor stepped forth with Mjölnir raised.
One crash of thunder, one flash of light,
And the breaker of oaths in the dust was laid.
Nine months passed, and from Loki’s womb
Came a foal with legs both swift and strange —
Eight hooves that drummed like the heartbeat of fate,
Grey as storm-clouds, wild and unchained.
Chorus:
Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Eight-legged glory,
Child of trickery, steed of the All-Father bold.
Across the Nine Worlds your grey hooves thunder,
Bearer of Odin through fire and cold.
Odin claimed him with a father’s pride,
Fastest of all ‘neath the rainbow’s arc.
Now rider and steed ride the worlds as one —
Through sea and sky and the halls of the dark.
So raise your horns for the sly one’s deed,
And the wonder born of a stolen night.
For even the gods in their wisdom need
The chaos that births the purest light.
Final Chorus (slower, reverent):
Sleipnir… Sleipnir… Eight-legged glory,
Wind-rider, world-strider, shadow and flame.
Glory to Loki’s most wondrous foal,
And Odin’s companion till Ragnarök’s end.

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In Asgard’s halls where the gods held feast, A wall lay broken by giantish wrath. They sought a bulwark both strong and high, To guard their realm from the coming dark. A builder came from the mountain wild, With shoulders broad as the ancient stone. “I’ll raise your rampart in one winter’s span, But Freyja’s hand and the sun and moon I own.” The gods took counsel and struck the deal, One winter only, no mortal aid. The giant smiled with a crafty eye, And harnessed forth his mighty steed — Svaðilfari. Chorus: Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Eight-legged glory, Child of trickery, steed of the All-Father bold. Across the Nine Worlds your grey hooves thunder, Bearer of Odin through fire and cold. Day after day the great stones flew, Dragged by the stallion so swift and strong. The wall grew tall as the winter waned, And fear gripped the Aesir — the bargain seemed wrong. They turned to Loki, the silver-tongued, “Fix what you wrought, you bringer of woe!” So Loki laughed with a glint in his eye, And slipped away where the wild winds blow. He took the shape of a mare so fair, With coat like moonlight on winter snow. He neighed and danced in the moonlit glade, Till Svaðilfari broke free and followed. All through the night they ran through the wood, While the builder cursed and the work stood still. The final stones lay unplaced on the ground, When the deadline came — and the gods had their will. The giant roared and showed his true form, But Thor stepped forth with Mjölnir raised. One crash of thunder, one flash of light, And the breaker of oaths in the dust was laid. Nine months passed, and from Loki’s womb Came a foal with legs both swift and strange — Eight hooves that drummed like the heartbeat of fate, Grey as storm-clouds, wild and unchained. Chorus: Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Eight-legged glory, Child of trickery, steed of the All-Father bold. Across the Nine Worlds your grey hooves thunder, Bearer of Odin through fire and cold. Odin claimed him with a father’s pride, Fastest of all ‘neath the rainbow’s arc. Now rider and steed ride the worlds as one — Through sea and sky and the halls of the dark. So raise your horns for the sly one’s deed, And the wonder born of a stolen night. For even the gods in their wisdom need The chaos that births the purest light. Final Chorus (slower, reverent): Sleipnir… Sleipnir… Eight-legged glory, Wind-rider, world-strider, shadow and flame. Glory to Loki’s most wondrous foal, And Odin’s companion till Ragnarök’s end.

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