A Trek Across the Spine / Festival of the Lost
from Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake by Fen Walker
-
Streaming + DownloadIncludes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Purchasable with gift card
$1 USD or more
-
Buy the Full Digital Album
-
Special Limited Edition Cassette
Cassette + Digital AlbumExperience Fen Walker's masterpiece and immerse yourself in the land of Ur! This complete package includes Hark! The Whispering Dead Of The Burial Lake on transparent purple Super Ferro cassette encased in the beautiful art work from Brendan Elliot. A full 11x17 poster of the album art and a Fen Walker pro-sticker. A hand made 4 oz. "Barrow Musk" candle to burn as you set out on your journey. Plus a hand bound booklet with the whole story, including artwork and a map with the characters paths lined out for you to follow while you listen!
Includes unlimited streaming of Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
-
-
Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake Cassette Bundle
Cassette + Digital AlbumThese are artist copies of the Lamp and Dagger release of Hark! The Whisper Dead of the Burial Lake. This bundle includes a pro-dubbed cassette with O-card, a hand-crafted candle, a poster, a story booklet, and a die-cut sticker.
Includes unlimited streaming of Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
-
-
Full Digital Discography
Get all 6 Fen Walker releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Behold! Visions From the Scrying Pool!, Fare Thee Well Battle Winds, Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake, Sojourns in the Realm of the Undermoon, The Totem Wilds Call Thy Name, and Hail! O' Barrow Lands!.
Purchasable with gift card$7.50 USD or more (25% OFF)
lyrics
No matter the season, the crossing was a dangerous one. Pjorlar had killed a large beast at the timberline. It’s flesh, smoked over a fire, filled his pack and would sustain him, while it’s wooly hide would ward off the mountain’s cruel chill. Thoughts of Woja kept up his spirits, though guilt of leaving Kyllar gnawed as well.
It had been many nights ago that she had appeared at the fireside of their camp on the Barrow Lands, her pale skin a-glow like an ember. Kyllar snored loudly on the other side of the fire, sleeping the sleep of the drunk. She had slipped under Pjorlar’s fur with him, her skin cold and shivering, her clothes wet with seawater. He held her and chided his love for running away, but soon understood the honor of Woja’s task. Her request of him however, was not so easy to accept. A parting kiss and a promise bound his heart to hers. He watched her wade off into the ocean.
The Spine was a maze of ice and rock, a glacial labyrinth, a trap of cold stone and bottomless crevasses. Yet despite this, he never felt waylaid, it was as if the wind or something residing within guided his steps. One day, after following a down slope he found himself at the edge of a cliff. Far below stretched a land of golden trees and glittering streams.
“Go to the golden land south of the great mountain where my aunt resides and rules. Await me there,” Woja had whispered that night so many days ago. Pjorlar adjusted his pack and rifle and made his way down, singing a song his love had taught him.
“You old fool!” Soja barked at Kyllar as they sped through the woods. Woja led them at a break neck pace through the forest. Kyllar’s breath came in sharp, wheezing gasps. If he survived, he would put away his smoking pipe forever. Close behind them, The Lost followed. A throng of tumbling forms, crimson eyed and mouthed, urged forth by a lust for new flesh to inhabit.
Kyllar was never a curious man, and it hadn’t been curiosity that had led him to enter the small stone building, but necessity. The rain had lashed him for days. Cold, wet, alone and with no end in sight, his sanity close to the breaking point, a nights rest in a dry place seemed an unfathomable luxury.
He had been sitting there contentedly, with a small fire and a pipe when Woja appeared at the door. He stared at her with disbelief. The gall of the girl! To lead him along these long months, only to suddenly appear at her leisure! A look in his eye stopped him from speaking. There was terror there, and she was not looking at him, but behind him. He turned and looked into the darkness finding himself staring into a face.
That face would haunt him for years to come. He had leapt and ran from the stone hut, charging past Woja, bellowing a guttural scream. He ran headlong into Soja who swore as they both tumbled to the ground. Forms began to pour from the door of the little building, more than the structure could have possibly held within. A firm hand grasped Kyllars arm and pulled him into the woods. They watched the figures spin and dance, a nightmare music issuing from unhallowed throats. Then the festivities were over and the hunt began.
It had been many nights ago that she had appeared at the fireside of their camp on the Barrow Lands, her pale skin a-glow like an ember. Kyllar snored loudly on the other side of the fire, sleeping the sleep of the drunk. She had slipped under Pjorlar’s fur with him, her skin cold and shivering, her clothes wet with seawater. He held her and chided his love for running away, but soon understood the honor of Woja’s task. Her request of him however, was not so easy to accept. A parting kiss and a promise bound his heart to hers. He watched her wade off into the ocean.
The Spine was a maze of ice and rock, a glacial labyrinth, a trap of cold stone and bottomless crevasses. Yet despite this, he never felt waylaid, it was as if the wind or something residing within guided his steps. One day, after following a down slope he found himself at the edge of a cliff. Far below stretched a land of golden trees and glittering streams.
“Go to the golden land south of the great mountain where my aunt resides and rules. Await me there,” Woja had whispered that night so many days ago. Pjorlar adjusted his pack and rifle and made his way down, singing a song his love had taught him.
“You old fool!” Soja barked at Kyllar as they sped through the woods. Woja led them at a break neck pace through the forest. Kyllar’s breath came in sharp, wheezing gasps. If he survived, he would put away his smoking pipe forever. Close behind them, The Lost followed. A throng of tumbling forms, crimson eyed and mouthed, urged forth by a lust for new flesh to inhabit.
Kyllar was never a curious man, and it hadn’t been curiosity that had led him to enter the small stone building, but necessity. The rain had lashed him for days. Cold, wet, alone and with no end in sight, his sanity close to the breaking point, a nights rest in a dry place seemed an unfathomable luxury.
He had been sitting there contentedly, with a small fire and a pipe when Woja appeared at the door. He stared at her with disbelief. The gall of the girl! To lead him along these long months, only to suddenly appear at her leisure! A look in his eye stopped him from speaking. There was terror there, and she was not looking at him, but behind him. He turned and looked into the darkness finding himself staring into a face.
That face would haunt him for years to come. He had leapt and ran from the stone hut, charging past Woja, bellowing a guttural scream. He ran headlong into Soja who swore as they both tumbled to the ground. Forms began to pour from the door of the little building, more than the structure could have possibly held within. A firm hand grasped Kyllars arm and pulled him into the woods. They watched the figures spin and dance, a nightmare music issuing from unhallowed throats. Then the festivities were over and the hunt began.
credits
from Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake,
released November 27, 2020
"Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" Written and Recited by Robert Frost
"Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" Written and Recited by Robert Frost
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Fen Walker Portland, Oregon
The music of the barbaric and sorcery scarred lands of Ur.
discography
-
May 2022 -
Nov 2021 -
Nov 2020 -
Nov 2020 -
May 2020 -
Nov 2019 -
Aug 2019
contact / help
Fen Walker recommends:
-
À l'Ombre du Royaume en Cendres
by OubliethDungeon synth with emphasis on the synths. A perfect album not to be missed.
go to album -
Dynamic, mysterious and percussion heavy Dungeon Synth. Both masterfully conceived and produced. Grimfather is a must own for fans of narrative driven Dungeon Synth and Fantasy Ambient.
go to album
If you like Fen Walker, you may also like:
-
supported by 258 fans who also own “A Trek Across the Spine / Festival of the Lost”
I met Fogweaver through Vedurnan and, later, Magelight. This more energetic take on their music is wonderful and exciting, a compelling twist bearing their unique signature.
go to album -
supported by 256 fans who also own “A Trek Across the Spine / Festival of the Lost”
If nostalgia for an age where creatures of myth walked together with the children of men had a soundtrack, this album would be it. Also, a touching reminder that we can forego wealth and power for wilderness and freedom, if we so choose.
go to album -
The Shadow of the Past
by Ithildinfeatured on Bandcamp Radio Feb 16, 2024
go to album -
Erang’s dungeon synth masterpiece “A Blaze in Time” comes to cassette via Dungeons Deep Records.
go to album
