She Gave Him a Sword
He heard a noise that foggy eve
and how his eyes, did deceive;
out in the lake, hovering there
a maiden with sword and golden hair.
Up to him, she did glide,
cutting through the foggy air;
and handed him a silver blade;
his immobility was unfair.
He couldn’t run,
he couldn’t hide,
his emotions came undone;
thought he was going to die!
And yet, he knew he couldn’t swing
that, lovely silver sword;
he stood sill, unyielding
and listened to her words.
I am a friend, I’ve come to help;
she spoke with such soft tongue.
To you, warrior, I give this gift;
your praises, will be sung.
With that, she dissipated
into that misty night;
His duty had been slated,
he defended home, that night.
Swinging the sword desperately,
he slaughtered many trolls.
Rewarded quite commensurately;
his story, for centuries, told.
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