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(Drualt and his sweetheart, Freya, were battling the monsters alone. Earlier, king Bruce’s army and even ordinary Bamarrians had fought alongside them. Together they had beaten the monsters back to the mountains, the desert, and the forest. But as time passed, people became less willing to risk their lives against monsters that rarely troubled them. This is when Drualt and Freya pitch camp outside the walled village of Surmic, in the Eskern Mountains. Drualt goes hunting, and Freya sets off the fish in the Surmic River. When the hero returns, he hears Freya crying for help. He gallops to the river, where he finds her harried by a dozen gryphons-and not a single villager has come to her defense)

 

Two gryphons lay dead,

Entrails spilling

On the riverbank.

Two gryphons staggered

And reeled, wings savaged.

Drualt laughed. His sweetheart

Was a doughty warrior.

 

Eight gryphons still

Set upon Greya, feasting

On her living flesh.

Freya, down upon

Her dimpled knees,

Fought on, but

Her life’s blood poured

Into the roiling river.

Drualt’s laughter died, and

Nevermore did Drualt laugh

Or smile in Bamarre.

 

Though gryphons bit and clawed

And set upon him, too,

Drualt reached his sweetheart

To stanch to rush

Of her heart’s red blood.

 

A monster pecked

At Freya’s dead lips.

Drualt arose in fury and

Slew it with one sweep

Of his angry sword.

 

(Drualt killed the remaining gryphons quickly. When they lay dead, the gates of Surmic village opened, and the villagers stepped out timidly. Drualt shook his fist at them.)

 

‘Come you now?’ roared the hero.

‘Come you now, when all need

Is past? Come you now,

When my love is dead?’

Frightened, the villagers

Drew back and whispered

Among themselves, their voices

Dry as salt.

 

(Drualt lifted Freya and turned from the villagers. He began to walk away, bleeding from his many wounds. An old woman hurried and caught up to him. She asked if he would returned to their aid in times of need.)

 

Drualt told the crone,

‘Bamarre will see no more of me

Until the timid go forth with the strong.

But while her heroes

Still fight alone,

Bamarre will see no more of me.’

 

Drualt went then

Into the mountains,

Carrying Freya,

Bold spirit, lost love.

And he was no more

Seen in Bamarre.

 

Now, when spector haunts,

Or dragon flames,

Or ogre attacks,

Or gryphon descends,

Bamarre fights alone.

Drualt, the laugher,

Tall among men,

Is gone.

 

But the tale has not

Run out – not yet.

So be brave, Bamarre!

Go forth, Bamarre,

The timid with the strong.

Let not your heroes

Fight alone.

Then one day, in the spring of the year

When monsters are hunting,

A hero will come,

A laughter,

Tall among men.

Drualt, hero of Bamarre,

Will return.

So rise up, Bamarre!

Be brave, Bamarre!

Be worthy, Bamarre,

Of your hero’s return.

                   -Ending of Drualt