When Mimer reached the top of the hill, he paused a moment to take breath and to cast a glance on the crowds below.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready,” answered Amilias, with a composed smile, so little did he fear; “strike your strongest!”
Mimer swung the gleaming blade,—for a moment the lightning seemed to play around his head, and then descending, it made a sweep through the air from right to left. The spectators thought to hear the clash of steel, but no sound came to their ears save a hiss like that which a hot poker would make in a bucket of water.
“Stand!” cried Mimer.
Amilias began to obey when, lo! he fell in halves, for the sword had cut through the war coat and the body incased within. One half rolled down the steep hill and fell into the river, fathoms deep, where for many a day, when the water was clear, it could be seen lying among the gravel and rocks.
The king was right: wisdom and skill had proved themselves stronger than steel.—Selected.
He who has a thousand friends,
Has not a friend to spare;