Fjaell

Gathered Ladies and Gentleman, summon a vision of iced fields and woods. It appears a heavy trotting baggage of tramping draught horses. Ironshod hooves scatter raging the snowcapped earth. You behold their white breath yet, which escapes from the black nostrils. Hooves descend ponderous and make the earth moan heavily . The baggage freezes and with it the thunder. Snowflakes slide mellow towards the ground , they elicit despiteous a melancholy whisper out of the air, until it freezes and the silence calls for the wailing chants of the fir-forest. This is Fjaell. Unorthodox, disbelieving and low.