“Abide,” quoth one on the bank above, over his head, “and thou shalt
    have all in haste that I promised thee once.”

Soon there comes out of a hole in the crag, with a fell weapon a Danish axe quite new, the “man in the green,” clothed as at first as his legs, locks and beard.  But now he is on foot and walks on the earth.  When he reaches the stream, he hops over and boldly strides about.  He meets Sir Gawayne, who tells him that he is quite ready to fulfil his part of the compact.  “Gawayne,” quoth that ‘green gome’ (man), “may God preserve thee!  Truly thou art welcome to my place, ’and thou hast timed thy travel’ as a true man should.  Thou knowest the covenants made between us, at this time twelve-month, that on New Year’s day I should return thee thy blow.  We are now in this valley by ourselves, and can do as we please (ll. 2217-2246).  Have, therefore, thy helmet off thy head, and ‘have here thy pay.’  Let us have no more talk than when thou didst strike off my head with a single blow.”

    “Nay, by God!” quoth Gawayne, “I shall not begrudge thee thy will for
    any harm that may happen, but will stand still while thou strikest.”

Then he stoops a little and shows his bare neck, unmoved by any fear.  The Green Knight takes up his “grim tool,” and with all his force raises it aloft, as if he meant utterly to destroy him.  As the axe came gliding down Gawayne “shrank a little with the shoulders from the sharp iron.”  The other withheld his weapon, and then reproved the prince with many proud words.  “Thou art not Gawayne that is so good esteemed, that never feared for no host by hill nor by vale, for now thou fleest for fear before thou feelest harm (ll. 2247-2272).  Such cowardice of that knight did I never hear.  I never flinched nor fled when thou didst aim at me in King Arthur’s house.  My head flew to my feet and yet I never fled, wherefore I deserve to be called the better man.”

Quoth Gawayne, “I shunted once, but will do so no more, though my head fall on the stones.  But hasten and bring me to the point; deal me my destiny, and do it out of hand, for I shall stand thee a stroke and start no more until thine axe has hit me—­have here my troth.”  “Have at thee, then,” said the other, and heaves the axe aloft, and looks as savagely as if he were mad.  He aims at the other mightily, but withholds his hand ere it might hurt.  Gawayne readily abides the blow without flinching with any member, and stood still as a stone or a tree fixed in rocky ground with a hundred roots.

Then merrily the other did speak, “Since now thou hast thy heart whole it behoves me to strike, so take care of thy neck.”  Gawayne answers with great wroth, “Thrash on, thou fierce man, thou threatenest too long; I believe thy own heart fails thee.”

“Forsooth,” quoth the other, “since thou speakest so boldly, I will no longer