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Updated: May 24, 2025
The Warriors sing: Show we the Sunlight the Gift of the Mother, As foot follows foot to the foeman's den! Gleam Sun, breathe Wind, on the Anvil's Brother, For bare is the hammered Death of Men. Therewith they shook their naked swords in the air, and fared on eagerly, and as swiftly as the pass would have them fare.
Partly from pride in his skill, Simon left the task to his grandson, and stood talking to the young man. Little thought Richard, as he turned the shoe on the anvil's beak, that he was his half-brother! He was a handsome youth, not so tall as Richard, and with more delicate features. His face was pale, and wore a rather serious, but self-satisfied look.
Bow-may singeth: Purblind am I, the voice of the chiding; Then tell me what is the thing ye bear? What is the gift that your hands are hiding, The gold-adorned, the dread and dear? Wood-wise singeth: Dark in the sheath lies the Anvil's Brother, Hid is the hammered Death of Men. Would ye look on the gift of the green-clad Mother? How then shall ye ask for a gift again?
A piece of fine wire was fastened round the tooth, and the other end round the anvil's nose, then the sturdy blacksmith shut the lower half of his shop door, which was about breast-high, with the patient outside and the anvil within; a strong push of the foot upset the anvil, and the tooth flew out like a well-thrown fly.
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