Intro
(Sindri! Brokkr!)
The forge was lit before the gods knew what they needed...
(Hu-ha!)
Loki brought the wager — we never retreated —
Three gifts against his head — the terms were completed.
(Sindri! Brokkr!)
The hands that armed the gods would not be defeated.
Verse 1 — Sindri
Deep in Svartálfaheimr where the furnace burned brighter,
I'm Sindri at the anvil — Brokkr feeding the fire.
Loki came with a smirk — said he'd raise the stakes higher,
Sons of Ívaldi forged wonders — we'd inspire.
He wagered us his head against three treasures made,
Thinking dwarves would break beneath the pressure laid.
Pigskin entered flame — Brokkr pumped without delay,
I said: "Brother, do not stop — not for one heartbeat today."
Gullinbursti rose blazing, golden through the dark,
Freyr's boar of living sunlight carrying its spark.
Then Draupnir from the furnace, every detail true,
Eight rings every ninth night — wealth forever grew.
A fly bit Brokkr's hand, then his neck with spite,
Still he kept the bellows roaring through the night.
Then iron met the furnace — the greatest work begun,
The hammer meant for thunder and the All-Father's son.
Pre-Chorus
The bellows feed the fire, the fire feeds the form,
Brokkr held the rhythm through the chaos and the storm.
One pause, one heartbeat, one second out of line,
And fate would leave its fingerprint upon our grand design.
Chorus
Three gifts from one wager on a single breath!
Every weapon in the Nine Worlds came from this death-bet!
Mjölnir's handle short — yet the gods called it best,
The dwarves who forged the weapons forged the rest!
Verse 2 — Brokkr
I'm Brokkr at the bellows — hear the story straight:
The fly struck my eyelid as we challenged fate.
Blood filled up my vision, pain became a weight,
Three seconds slowed the rhythm — three seconds came too late.
Mjölnir left the furnace with a shortened haft,
Not the flawless masterpiece we'd planned to craft.
Still we brought it northward to the gods above,
And they chose Thor's hammer as the greatest of.
Every giant's doom was resting in that steel,
Every storm and thunder waiting to be real.
Loki lost the wager, yet escaped the blade:
"Take my head," he argued, "but my neck's not in the trade."
Clever trickster, always twisting every rule.
So I took an awl instead — a craftsman's tool.
Through his lips I stitched the payment that was owed,
And silence was the debt the shapeshifter bestowed.
Pre-Chorus
The bellows feed the fire, the fire feeds the form,
Brokkr held the rhythm through the chaos and the storm.
One pause, one heartbeat, one second out of line,
And fate would leave its fingerprint upon our grand design.
Chorus
Three gifts from one wager on a single breath!
Every weapon in the Nine Worlds came from this death-bet!
Mjölnir's handle short — yet the gods called it best,
The dwarves who forged the weapons forged the rest!
Bridge
Three seconds changed a handle, not the hammer's might,
The line between perfection and a legend's flight.
Gungnir never faltered, Draupnir multiplied,
Mjölnir broke the giants and the Midgard Serpent died.
Scar-lipped stood the trickster from Brokkr's iron awl,
The laughter of the dwarves still echoes through the hall.
Remember when you hear the thunder's distant call:
Svartálfaheimr's forge still burns behind it all.
Drop — Instrumental
Final Chorus
Three gifts from one wager on a single breath!
Every weapon in the Nine Worlds came from this death-bet!
Mjölnir's handle short — yet the gods called it best,
The dwarves who forged the weapons forged the rest!
Outro
(Sindri! Brokkr!)
The forge still burns in Svartálfaheimr...
(Hu-ha!)
One wager.
One fly.
Three seconds.
One short handle.
Enough to change the fate of gods.
