I shout to Thidrek's men, commanding them to stay their itchy sword arms. Though only the wayfaring warrior Waltharius, I have managed to win the men's confidence as a leader in Thidrek's absence. I observe the action with two trusted thegns, Ecfrith and Caedwin, from a coppice of leafless birch an acre hence. Though both men are world-weary, seasoned warriors, the youthful glimmer in their eyes at the sight of the dragon cannot be ignored. Such glory to be had at the slaying of such a beast! The slayer's praises may be sung in the lord's hall by Widsith or other silver-tongued scops until the next Ragnarok!

"Hold, my lords," I remind them. "Though tempting it may be, we must trust our captain."

"But the beast has overcome him, along with Hagen and the Rhinemaiden!" Ecfrith's protest is legitimate concern mixed with boyish eagerness.

"Thidrek will prevail," I reassure my elders. "He is armed with that which gave Sigfried the kenning Fafnirsbane." The two thegns turn slowly, eyeing me with incredulity.