Named after a mountain, fictive and grand, in a tongue few speak or understand. They sing of Norse gods, warriors, and flame, Roaring hard tunes that earned them their name.

In the night sky, a cluster bright, sisters sparkling in celestial light. Born of myth and ancient lore, a stellar gathering to adore. What am I, among the stars, guiding sailors from afar?

Round and round it goes, hidden in a cloud of itself. A fake star it glows, with help it glows brighter. Not a single sea, or life as far as the eye can see. Cold it is not, it will take you warmly without plea. Look up at night and you will see.

In the north I am hot, In the south I feel gray. The sixth of twelve is my lot, My squire is solstice day.

I have everything yet, Feels so empty. I have so much light, Yet it is so dark.