The bright moon shone faintly through the clouds, and Hagen said, “Let none tell my dear masters what hath befallen us. Let them be free of trouble till the morrow.”
When they that had fought came up with the rest, they found them overcome with weariness. “How long shall we ride?” asked many among them. Bold Dankwart answered, “Here is no hostel. Ye must ride till it is day.” Folker, that had the charge, bade ask the marshal, “Where shall we halt for the night, that the horses and my dear masters may rest?” But Dankwart said, “I know not. We cannot rest till the dawn. Then we shall lie down on the grass wherever we find a place.” When they heard this news they were sorry enow!
Of the red blood that reeked on them nothing was said till the sun greeted the morning on the mountains with his bright beams, and the king saw that they had fought.
The knight cried angrily, “How now, friend Hagen? Wherefore didst thou scorn my help when they were wetting thy harness with blood? Who hath done it?”
Hagen answered, “It was Elsy. He fell on us by night. Because of his ferryman, he attacked us. My brother’s hand slew Gelfrat. Elsy was forced to flee. An hundred of his men, and four of ours, lie dead, slain in battle.”
I cannot tell you where they rested. Soon all the country folk heard that noble Uta’s sons were on their way to the hightide. They were well received at Passau. Bishop Pilgerin, the king’s uncle, was well pleased that his nephews drew nigh with so many knights. He was not slow to give them welcome. Friends rode out to meet them on the way. When there was not room enough for all in Passau, they crossed the river to a field, and there the squires put up tents and rich pavilions.
They had to tarry there a whole day and a night. Well they were entreated! Then they rode into Rudeger’s country. When Rudeger heard the news, he was glad.
When the way-weary ones had rested, and drew nigher to Rudeger’s country, they found a man asleep on the marches, from whom Hagen of Trony took a stark weapon. This same good knight hight Eckewart. Right heavy was he of his cheer that he had lost his sword through the passing of the heroes. They found Rudeger’s marches ill guarded.
“Woe is me for this shame!” cried Eckewart. “Sore I rue the Burgundians’ journey. The day I lost Siegfried my joy was ended. Alack! Sir Rudeger, an ill turn I have done thee.”
Hagen overheard all the warrior’s grief, and gave him his sword again, with six red armlets. “Take them, Sir Knight, for love of me, and be my friend. Thou art a brave man to lie here all alone.”