They were this way till evening, and neither had the better of the other. Miach Lay was equal to the Dark King; but the Dark King, having magic, blew a gust of wind at Miach Lay which knocked him flat on the earth, and left him half dead. Then the Dark King took Miach Lay’s sword, and went away. When he recovered, Miach Lay regretted his sword more than all else, and went back to the castle where he had spent the night before. He was barely able to go in at the window.
“How have you fared this day?” asked the young woman.
He told her of all that had happened.
“Be not grieved; you will meet him another time,” said the young woman.
“What is the use? I have no sword now.”
“If ’tis a sword you need, I will bring you a blade far better than the one which the Dark King took from you.”
After breakfast next morning she brought him her father’s sword, which he grasped in his hand, and shook. Miach Lay bade farewell to the young woman, and sprang out through the window. Knowing the way better this time, he hastened forward, and met the Dark King just where he met him before.
“Did not yesterday tire you?” asked the king.
“No,” said Miach Lay.
“Your journey is useless,” said the king.