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Updated: June 1, 2025
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.
And the purple guard came by with lights, all singing in the stillness, and dark shapes out in the desert turned and fled. And Rold went back again to his mother's house with a great yearning towards the name of Welleran, such as men feel for very holy things. And in time Rold grew to know the pathway all round the ramparts, and the six equestrian statues that were there guarding Merimna still.
Thou wouldst go and look at it in the night with the moonlight shining upon it. And the longing of Rold in his dreams to see the sword caused him to walk still sleeping from his mother's house to the hall wherein were the trophies of the heroes.
The man and his wife did not at first notice any change, but the wife gradually became suspicious, and she asked the advice of a wise woman, who told her to brew in a nutshell, with an eggshell as beer barrel, in the changeling's presence, who exclaimed that it had lived so many years as to have seen Rold Wood hewn down and grow up three times, but had never seen any one brew in a nutshell before.
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 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?
Thou art fallen in a marsh! Thou canst not move. And the dreams of Rold said to him: 'Thy knees are tied, thou art fallen in a marsh, and Rold stood still before the sword. Then the soul of the warrior wailed among Rold's dreams, as Rold stood before the sword. 'Welleran is crying for his sword, his wonderful curved sword.
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