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"It's been an awfu' nicht o' wind and rain," she again observed, glancing at his dripping clothes, and conveying a hint that explanations were desirable. "I canna understand at a' what way you hae bidden oot in a' that rain, Lod's sake? It's enough to gie you your daeth o' cauld. You are wet to the skin, an' there's no a dry steek on you?
Then the thought came into Lod's mind, "Ged does not hit. What will Ged do instead?" And Lod lowered his sword and struck not, and his imagination began to work on that "What will Ged do instead?" And the more Lod thought, the worse was his fear of Ged. And Lod ran away and left him.
Deep in his heart Lod shuddered, for his instinct told him that Ged wanted Lod's only son, who should hold the iron sword when Lod was gone. No one would dare touch Lod because of the iron sword, but his instinct said in his slow mind again and again, "Ged loves Ith. Ith has said so. Ith hates the sword-holders." "Ith hates the sword-holders. Ged loves Ith."
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