a cry evoked long since by some murderous deed in some old haunted
chamber that whispers through the ages heard by none.

And the soul of Welleran cried out to the dreams of Rold: 'Thy knees
are tied! 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. Poor
Welleran, that once fought for Merimna, is crying for his sword in
the night. Thou wouldst not keep Welleran without his beautiful
sword when he is dead and cannot come for it, poor Welleran who
fought for Merimna.'

And Rold broke the glass casket with his hand and took the sword,
the great curved sword of Welleran; and the soul of the warrior said
among Rold's dreams: 'Welleran is waiting in the deep ravine that
runs into the mountains, crying for his sword.'

And Rold went down through the city and climbed over the ramparts,
and walked with his eyes wide open but still sleeping over the
desert to the mountains.

Already a great multitude of Merimna's citizens were gathered in the
desert before the deep ravine with old swords in their hands, and
Rold passed through them as he slept holding the sword of Welleran,
and the people cried in amaze to one another as he passed: 'Rold