"Drualt took Freya's warm hand,Her strong hand,Her sword hand,And pressed it to his lips,Pressed it to his heart.Come with me,' he said.Come with me to battle,My love. Tarry at my side.Stay with meWhen battle is done.Tarry at my side.Laugh with me,And walk with meThe long, long way.Tarry with me,My love, at my side."
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"The Poet had, who had made a show of attaching no importance to this literary game , and having no one with whom to fall in love, had fallen in love with the letters themselves — which, as Niketas rem…"
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