from that high hill beyond the brook a wondrous wild noise. Lo! it
clattered in the cliff as if one upon a grindstone were grinding a
scythe. It whirred like the water at a mill, and rushed and re-echoed,
terrible to hear. "Though my life I forgo," says Gawayne, "no noise
shall cause me to fear."

Then he cried aloud, "Who dwells in this place, discourse with me to
hold? For now is good Gawayne going right here if any brave wight will
hie him hither, either now or never" (ll. 2189-2216).

"Abide," quoth one on the bank above, over his head, "and thou shalt
have all in haste that I promised thee once."

Soon there comes out of a hole in the crag, with a fell weapon a Danish
axe quite new, the "man in the green," clothed as at first as his legs,
locks and beard. But now he is on foot and walks on the earth. When he
reaches the stream, he hops over and boldly strides about. He meets Sir
Gawayne, who tells him that he is quite ready to fulfil his part of the
compact. "Gawayne," quoth that 'green gome' (man), "may God preserve
thee! Truly thou art welcome to my place, 'and thou hast timed thy
travel' as a true man should. Thou knowest the covenants made between
us, at this time twelve-month, that on New Year's day I should return
thee thy blow. We are now in this valley by ourselves, and can do as we
please (ll. 2217-2246). Have, therefore, thy helmet off thy head, and
'have here thy pay.' Let us have no more talk than when thou didst
strike off my head with a single blow."

"Nay, by God!" quoth Gawayne, "I shall not begrudge thee thy will for
any harm that may happen, but will stand still while thou strikest."

Then he stoops a little and shows his bare neck, unmoved by any fear.
The Green Knight takes up his "grim tool," and with all his force
raises it aloft, as if he meant utterly to destroy him. As the axe came
gliding down Gawayne "shrank a little with the shoulders from the sharp
iron." The other withheld his weapon, and then reproved the prince with
many proud words. "Thou art not Gawayne that is so good esteemed, that
never feared for no host by hill nor by vale, for now thou fleest for
fear before thou feelest harm (ll. 2247-2272). Such cowardice of that
knight did I never hear. I never flinched nor fled when thou didst aim
at me in King Arthur's house. My head flew to my fe