answer to his snoring, which sounded like the
Thunder-God driving three-in-hand through the clouds.

The sorcerer now stole from his hiding-place, and advanced towards the
sleeping giant with catlike steps; but he tried in vain to steal the
good sword from its master's side by his incantations. Neither commands
nor supplications would avail, and he was forced to use stronger spells.
So he scattered rowan-leaves, thyme, fern, and other magic herbs over
the sword, and at last it inclined towards the sorcerer, and he took it
in his arms. The huge weapon weighed him to the ground, and he was only
able to struggle along painfully under its weight, step by step, with
the sweat pouring from his face; but still he would not relinquish his
booty. Presently he came to the brook Kaepae, and jumped over it; but the
sword slipped from his arm, and sank in the mud in the deepest place. He
renewed his incantations, but was now quite unable to repossess himself
of the sword, and on the approach of dawn he fled into the forest, to
hide from the vengeance of its owner.

When the Kalevide awoke, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and felt
for his sword, but it had disappeared. He could see its traces where it
had been dragged away, and he followed on its track, calling to the
sword as to a brother, and beseeching it to answer him, and not to let
him search in vain. But there was no reply, and then he tried a song,
but still there was no reply, and he searched everywhere for the sword,
till at last he saw it shining at the bottom of the water.

Then the Kalevide asked the sword who had stolen it and sunk it in the
water, and the sword sang in reply how the sorcerer had carried it off,
and how it had slipped from his grasp into the water, into the embraces
of the fairest of the water-nymphs. The Kalevide answered, "Does my
sword prefer to lie in the arms of a water-nymph rather than to feel the
grasp of a hero in battle?" The sword reminded the Kalevide of the
terrible murder in Finland, which it declared it could never forget, and
the hero abandoned the weapon to its sweet repose, saying that he relied
on his own strength to overcome his enemies in battle. But he laid his
commands on the sword that if any heroes of his race, Kalevides,
Alevides, or Sulevides, should come to the spot, then the sword should
address them in words. If a great singer came, the sword was to sing to
him; if a hero as brave and as strong as the Kalevide himself