The settlement, with its stout walls
The forest, with passing bird calls
The quaint little village blends in peaceful harmony
With the world, the stead stands tall.
The people here, they work hard
Inside the inn, visitors hear the song of the bard
The quaint little village blossoms beneath the stark polar peaks
And no traveler will see the stead as bleak.
In a province of chaos
Across the icy crags
A place of wonder to praise, if one could,
The beautiful, Nordic stead
Of sweet Riverwood.