d Rold knew nothing that he had done in his
sleep, and looked in amazement at the sword in his hand and said:
'What art thou, thou beautiful thing? Lights shimmer in thee, thou
art restless. It is the sword of Welleran, the curved sword of
Welleran!'

And Rold kissed the hilt of it, and it was salt upon his lips with
the battle-sweat of Welleran. And Rold said: 'What should a man do
with the sword of Welleran?'

And all the people wondered at Rold as he sat there with the sword
in his hand muttering, 'What should a man do with the sword of
Welleran?'

Presently there came to the ears of Rold the noise of a jingling up
in the ravine, and all the people, the people that knew naught of
war, heard the jingling coming nearer in the night; for the four
armies were moving on Merimna and not yet expecting an enemy. And
Rold gripped upon the hilt of the great curved sword, and the sword
seemed to lift a little. And a new thought came into the hearts of
Merimna's people as they gripped their grandsires' swords. Nearer
and nearer came the heedless armies of the four Kings, and old
ancestral memories began to arise in the minds of Merimna's people
in the desert with their swords in their hands sitting behind Rold.
And all the sentinels were awake holding their spears, for Rollory
had put their dreams to flight, Rollory that once could put to
flight armies and now was but a dream struggling with other dreams.

And now the armies had come very near. Suddenly Rold leaped up,
crying: 'Welleran! And the sword of Welleran!' And the savage,
lusting sword that had thirsted for a hundred years went up with the
hand of Rold and swept through a tribesman's ribs. And with the
warm blood all about it there came a joy into the curved soul of
that mighty sword, like to the joy of a swimmer coming up dripping
out of warm seas after living for long in a dry land. When they saw
the red cloak and that terrible sword a cry ran through the tribal
armies, 'Welleran lives!' And there arose the sounds of the exulting
of victorious men, and the panting of those that fled, and the sword
singing softly to itself as it whirled dripping through the air.
And the last that I saw of the battle as it poured into the depth
and darkness of the ravine was the sword of Welleran sweeping up and
falling, gleaming blue in the moonlight whenever it arose and
afterwards gleaming red, and so disappearing into the darkness.

But in the dawn Merimna's men ca