[Intro]
[Clean twelve-string guitar and bowed tagelharpa play the oath motif in slow triple meter.]

[Verse 1]
You sat where sparks climbed past your hair,
And stitched your glove with horsehide there.
The hall behind us kicked and roared;
We shared one quiet edge of board.
Your shield leaned cracked beside your knee,
The split you earned protecting me.
You said the smith could bind it right.
I said the wood had held one fight.

[Chorus]
My Brother by the Hearth, I should have spoken plain,
I should have named the turning horn and every quiet sign.
You trusted what we swore beside the bronze and flame;
My Brother by the Hearth, I trusted it the same.
The fire warmed our hands, the winter held the door;
We did not know how few such minutes waited anymore.

[Verse 2]
You asked why I kept watching men,
Why every laugh drew round again.
I told you Ketil counted doors,
And Arnulf shifted hidden swords.
You heard me through, then shook your head:
“A doubt can shame the loyal dead.
Bring proof before you bruise a name.
A careless spark can take the frame.”

[Chorus]
My Brother by the Hearth, I should have spoken plain,
I should have named the turning horn and every quiet sign.
You trusted what we swore beside the bronze and flame;
My Brother by the Hearth, I trusted it the same.
The fire warmed our hands, the winter held the door;
We did not know how few such minutes waited anymore.

[Verse 3]
We spoke of spring beyond the pass,
Of mending roofs and cutting grass.
You planned a cradle out of pine
For Astrid’s child by springtime.
You carved one boar into the rail,
Its back too broad, its snout too frail.
I mocked the legs, you called me blind,
Then left the half-cut block behind.

[Instrumental]
[Distorted guitars enter beneath the clean motif without increasing the tempo.]

[Bridge]
Had I been brave, I might have lied;
Had I been sure, you might have lived.
Honor asked proof; love feared the cost.
I chose to wait, and you were lost.

[Final Chorus]
My Brother by the Hearth, now every word remains,
The cracked shield by your knee, the sparks, the horsehide grain.
You trusted what we swore beside the bronze and flame;
My Brother by the Hearth, I bear that trust as blame.
The fire warmed our hands, the winter held the door;
I would trade every vengeance for that quiet hour once more.

[Outro]
[The second voice hums the oath motif as the twelve-string guitar resolves alone.]

Your little wooden boar stayed near.
One unfinished thing survived the year.