In ancient times, when seas ran cold,
The Vikings braved the waves so bold.
With sturdy ships and hearts of steel,
They sought the realms where legends kneel.
A map they held, with runes so old,
It spoke of tales in whispers told.
The underworld, a hidden land,
Where spirits roamed on mystic sand.
By torchlight dim, they read the signs,
Each rune a path through fate’s designs.
Through fjords and mists, they sailed afar,
Guided by the northern star.
The map depicted mountains high,
With shadows dark against the sky.
A bridge of bones, where spirits tread,
To realms where only brave hearts fled.
The serpent’s tail, a winding way,
Led to where the lost souls stay.
Odin’s wisdom, in runes inscribed,
Revealed the path where shadows hide.
Through icy streams and valleys deep,
Where ancient gods their secrets keep,
They journeyed on, through night and frost,
Determined to retrieve the lost.
With each league gained, their fears would fade,
Their courage like a sharpened blade.
The underworld, though dark and vast,
Could not deter the die they’d cast.
The final rune, a gate of fire,
Guarded by a beast most dire.
They faced it with their axes high,
For in their veins, no fear could lie.
At last they stood where legends dwell,
The underworld, with tales to tell.
The Viking map had led them true,
To realms beyond the earthly blue.
Their journey carved in sagas grand,
A testament to heart and hand.
The Viking map, a sacred scroll,
That traced their path from pole to pole.
