"Nay, why should we tarry; by night as by day can we fight. Come, prove it now."
"I am hungry and weary, and desire to quaff from the wine horn," the other replied. "Let us do that first and fight afterwards."
"Not so," answered Wulnoth. "We will make an end of this matter, and that at once."
"Now, evil seize thee," growled the other. "For this I will surely slay thee. Yet fight, if it is in thy mind to do so."
So they gripped again, and wrestled, and strove, yet still Wulnoth could gain no victory; and as the night deepened, it seemed that the other grew the stronger, so that he cast Wulnoth to the earth and laughed and said—
"I conquer! I conquer, Wanderer, and bitter shall be the drink in which you pledge me. Now cry for mercy."
"I cry for no mercy," answered Wulnoth, speaking short and hoarse. "Come, let us make an end of this."
So there on the ground they wrestled, the stranger on top and Wulnoth beneath seeking to cast him off, and so they struggled until the sun rose; and then stronger and stronger Wulnoth seemed to grow, and weaker and weaker the stranger became, until he fell, and said—
"I can fight no more. Thou hast beaten me. Yet thou wouldst not have done this save for that shadow."
He pointed, as he spoke, to the earth, and Wulnoth looked and wondered; for two of the timbers of the ruined king's hall still stood, and they caught the beams of the rising sun, and upon the ground their shadows fell just where the two had struggled, and the shadows formed—a cross, the sign of the weak one whom Wulnoth had called nithing!