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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Roots of the Mountains; Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale"

But as for Folk-might, his face was yet white and aweful
with anger, and he looked restlessly up and down the front of the
kindreds, though he spake no word.
Then Face-of-god could no longer forbear, but he thrust Dale-warden
into his sheath, and ran forward and cast his arms about his father's
neck and kissed him; and the blood of himself and of the foemen was
on him, for he had been hurt in divers places, but not sorely,
because of the good hammer-work of the Alderman.
Then he kissed his brother and Stone-face, and he took Folk-might by
the hand, and was on the point of speaking some word to him, when the
ranks of the Face opened, and lo! the Sun-beam in her bright war-
gear, and the sword girt to her side, and she unhurt and unsullied.
Then was it to him as when he met her first in Shadowy Vale, and he
thought of little else than her; but she stepped lightly up to him,
and unashamed before the whole host she kissed him on the mouth, and
he cast his mailed arms about her, and joy made him forget many
things and what was next to do, though even at that moment came
afresh a great clamour of shrieks and cries from the northern outgate
of the Market-stead: and the burning pile behind them cast a great
wavering flame into the air, contending with the bright sun of that
fair day, now come hard on noontide.


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