e changed and soft close to his ear, as she murmured
mere words of love to him, drew him away from the life of deeds and
doubts and made a new world for him, wherein he beheld all those fair
pictures of the happy days that had been in his musings when first he
left the field of the dead.

So they sat down on the grey stone together hand in hand, her head laid
upon his shoulder, no otherwise than if they had been two lovers, young
and without renown in days of deep peace.

So as they sat, her foot smote on the cold hilts of the sword, which
Thiodolf had laid down in the grass; and she stooped and took it up, and
laid it across her knees and his as they sat there; and she looked on
Throng-plough as he lay still in the sheath, and smiled on him, and saw
that the peace-strings were not yet wound about his hilts. So she drew
him forth and raised him up in her hand, and he gleamed white and fearful
in the growing dawn, for all things had now gotten their colours again,
whereas amidst their talking had the night worn, and the moon low down
was grown white and pale.

But she leaned aside, and laid her cheek against Thiodolf's, and he took
the sword out of her hand and set it on his knees again, and laid his
right hand on it, and said:

"Two things by these blue edges in the face of the dawning I swear;
And first this warrior's ransom in the coming fight to bear,
And evermore to love thee who hast given me second birth.
And by the sword I swear it, and by the Holy Earth,
To live for the House of the Wolfings, and at last to die for their
need.
For though I trow thy saying that I am not one of their seed,
Nor yet by the hand have been taken and unto the Father shown
As a very son of the Fathers, yet mid them hath my body grown;
And I am the guest of their Folk-Hall, and each one there is my
friend.
So with them is my joy and sorrow, and my life, and my death in the
end.
Now whatso doom hereafter my coming days shall bide,
Thou speech-friend, thou deliverer, thine is this dawning-tide."

She spoke no word to him; but they rose up and went hand in hand down the
dale, he still bearing his naked sword over his shoulder, and thus they
went together into the yew-copse at the dale's end. There they abode
till after the rising of the sun, and each to each spake many loving
words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her ways at her will.

But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and