“It is indeed,” said Blaiman; “’tis for that I am here.”
“What will you have?” asked the giant; “hard, thorny wrestling, or fighting with sharp gray swords?”
“I prefer hard, thorny wrestling,” said Blaiman; “as I have practised it on the lawns with noble children.”
They seized each other, and made soft places hard, and hard places soft; they drew wells of spring water through the hard, stony ground in such fashion that the place under them was a soft quagmire, in which the giant, who was weighty, was sinking. He sank to his knees. Blaiman then caught hold of him firmly, and forced him down to his hips.
“Am I to cut off your head now?” asked Blaiman.
“Do not do that,” said the giant. “Spare me, and I will give you my treasure-room, and all that I have of gold and silver.”
“I will give you your own award,” said Blaiman. “If I were in your place, and you in mine, would you let me go free?”
“I would not,” said the giant.
Blaiman drew his broad, shadowy sword made in Erin. It had edge, temper, and endurance; and with one blow he took the two heads off the giant, and carried the heads to the castle. He passed by Hung Up Naked, who asked him to loose him; but he refused. When Blaiman threw the heads down, much as the castle shook the first day, it shook more the second.