Lo! here the token of what hath betid! Grown whole is the broken, found that which was hid. Now one way we follow whate’er shall befall; As seeketh the swallow his yesteryear’s hall. Seldom folk fewer to fight-stead hath fared; Ne’er have men truer the battle-reed bared. Grey locks now I carry, and old am I grown, Nor looked I to tarry to meet with mine own. For we who remember the deeds of old days Were nought but the ember of battle ablaze. For what man might aid us? what deed and what day Should come where Weird laid us aloof from the way? What man save that other of Twain rent apart, Our war-friend, our Brother, the piece of our heart. Then hearken the wonder how shield beside shield The twain that did sunder wend down to the Field!’ Now when he had made an end, men could no longer forebear the shout; and it went up into the heavens, and was borne by the west-wind down the Dale to the ears of the stay-at-home women and men unmeet to go abroad, and it quickened their blood and the spirits within them as they heard it, and they smiled and were fain; for they knew that their kinsfolk were glad. But when there was quiet on the Mote-field again, Folk-might spake again and said; ‘It is sooth that my Brother sayeth, and that now again we wend, All the Sons of the Wolf together, till the trouble hath an end. But as for that tale of the Ancients, it saith that we who went To the northward, climbed and stumbled o’er many a stony bent, Till we happed on that isle of the waste-land, and the grass of Shadowy Vale, Where we dwelt till we throve a little, and felt our might avail. Then we fared abroad from the shadow and the little-lighted hold, And the increase fell to the valiant, and the spoil to the battle-bold, And never a man gainsaid us with the weapons in our hands; And in Silver-dale the happy we gat us life and lands. ‘So wore the years o’er-wealthy; and meseemeth that ye know How we sowed and reaped destruction, and the Day of the overthrow: How we leaned on the staff we had broken, and put our lives in the hand Of those whom we had vanquished and the feeble of the land; And these were the stone of stumbling, and the burden not to be borne, When the battle-blast fell on us and our day was over-worn. Thus then did our wealth bewray us, and left us wise and sad; And to you, bold men, it falleth once more to make us glad, If so your hearts are bidding, and ye deem the deed of worth. Such were we; what we shall be, ’tis yours to say henceforth.’ He said furthermore: ‘How great we have been I have told you already; and ye shall see for yourselves how little we be now. Is it enough, and will ye have us for friends and brothers? How say ye?’