The details, unfortunately, are lost forever. Shieldwalls woven in tight protection Guthorm's warriors call to Odin With voices grumbling Danes delight in battle always. The ravens bark above the din, The plain runs red with blood.
Shields ring out and split asunder From either side in equal number.
Before the blade his skull bites. Little is lost for men who fight well. To fight again another day. But saw not Odin's favour that day. Yet Odin gives fickle fortune.