Alone he stood, breathless, sweating; twenty or more foes slain at his feet,
encircling now, they held back, fearful of this warrior; nearer, death they'd meet.
Alone he stood, a last blast given upon glided horn; lowering his sword, death to greet,
encircling now, the archers drew shafts, loosed them all, and howling ran in retreat.
Alone he stood, staggered back against the Rowan tree, sitting, dying,
encircling now, darkness and flashing red pain weighed upon him, there lying.
Alone he stood, looking at his friend, coming too late, kneeling, crying,
encircling now, wisps of spirits approaching, welcoming, singing and sighing.