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She launched herself at the new foe,
Daring ‘mid combat to go
To save others’ lives
While they did still strive
To the new threat overthrow.

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Amid the sounds of their long fight,
From which some had fled in great fright,
Erdewyn arose
And, hearing the throes
Of fighting came soon into sight.

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But slowly, the oncomer slowed
As village folk their valor showed;
More yet joined the fray,
Knew they could not stay
Idle while fight’s embers glowed.

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The bludgeon that was well against
Them wielded sent many far hence,
Shattering bone
‘Mid chunks of flesh thrown
From where they had sat full long since.

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For though valiantly they fought,
The villagers victory sought
For most part in vain;
Too many were lain
Out for the grave, their deaths for naught.

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But that sleep had gripped her full tight
Did not mean that the ongoing fight
Could not have her used,
Though she’d been abused
By efforts through day and through night.

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And who could well hold her to blame
When she had fought so in their name
And deeds of renown
Had done in the town?
None thought of her with great shame.

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Still Erdewyn with fatigue fought;
Her body its rest strident sought.
As people did break,
She could not well wake,
Though she had not peril forgot.

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With bludgeon borne behind the back,
The oncomer made the attack,
Each motion a blur,
As they all aver
Who observed, their jaws soon grown slack.

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None of them thought that alone
By any the one’d be o’erthrown,
So they fought as one,
But scarce had begun
When the oncomer rent flesh and broke bone.

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Alone, the great fighter forth strode,
And with that one, some thought Death rode,
Since Erdewyn slept,
But others soon leapt
Into the fray, howe’er it’d bode.

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That force-head then went forth in glee,
Thinking, of course, to soon see
If resistance remained,
Or if it had strained
Itself too much even to flee

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A risk, then, the Scald’s leader took
As progress against the town shook,
Sent out the last head
To avenge the dead--
Thought the leader’d no rebellion brook.

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The chief of the Scald’s held fourth part
Was versed in many a dire art
And looked for renown
In taking the town--
And had done so e’en at the start.

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And now that the racers had stopped,
Had by fist and foot been hard dropped,
The leader took heed,
Considered the need
The village fight’s-head to see cropped.

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That leader had been such a one
When the Scald had but barely begun
And so wary went
Against that one, sent
Out others to against her run.

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The Scald leader’d watched from afar
How the town the Scald’s forces did bar,
And that leader knew
That one figure who
Stood strongly could victory mar.

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The fourth part of the Scald lay in wait,
Its entry held back until late
Through the leader’s guile--
And still a short while
Would transpire before it knew its fate.

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Three corps of four had advanced
On the town, and they had chanced
To falter and fail,
Though few’d them bewail
Their richly deserved happenstance.

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Yet still did they threaten to burn
The town, for it had yet to earn
A victory free,
Though people with glee
Did note they from Erdewyn learned.

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Some few to her dared to draw near
In hopes of allaying their fear--
And she yet drew breath,
Had avoided death.
The Scald had yet to them sear.

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When the sun rose, she was found
Lying heaped up on the ground;
They ‘gan to fret
For they weren’t yet
Safe from the strife all around.

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So not long into the night,
Erdewyn reeled from the fight,
Collapsed into sleep
And lay in a heap
Until the dawn ‘gan to shed light.

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Perhaps, though, that’s all for the best,
For they who have fought often rest
Ill in their beds;
They keep in their heads
What’s been done, recalled without zest.

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The truth for them is much less grand.
They pay a price who bravely stand,
Whatever the foe,
Wherever they go;
Too seldom do we understand.

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Such figures are of people made
Who fight with the fist and the blade,
That they do not tire
Until they expire--
Or that’s how songs of them are played.

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Yet Erdewyn suffered for all
The winning for which she did call,
And the folk of the town,
Wrapped in her renown,
Bethought them that she could not fall.

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As might be expected, Þurn lost
That battle into which he tossed
Himself to win through
To victory true;
He gambled, and he paid the cost.

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In the dim light as night fell,
How each blow was struck, none could tell
Save those who exchanged them,
Who, therefore, arranged them--
But for one, they rang a death knell.

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Instead, they fought on with their skill
And their strength--and yet did the fight thrill
Those few who looked on
After the light was gone,
Who were awake and breathing still.