“So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;
   But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,
   Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good. 
   But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,
   And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to
   Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin
   In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein.”

Then smiled the carline and said:  “Yea, he is thy foster-father, and yet a fond one.”

“Sooth is that,” said the Hall-Sun.  “But wise art thou by seeming.  Hast thou come to tell me of what kindred I am, and who is my father and who is my mother?”

Said the carline:  “Art thou not also wise?  Is it not so that the Hall-Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?”

“Yea,” she said, “yet have I seen waking or sleeping no other father save my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen, as one who should meet her in the flesh one day.”

“And good is that,” said the carline; and as she spoke her face waxed kinder, and she said: 

“Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and how thou faredst there.”

Said the Hall-Sun: 

“I waxed ’neath the Roof of the Wolfings, till now to look upon I was of sixteen winters, and the love of the Folk I won, And in lovely weed they clad me like the image of a God:  And lonely now full often the wild-wood ways I trod, And I feared no wild-wood creature, and my presence scared them nought; And I fell to know of wisdom, and within me stirred my thought, So that oft anights would I wander through the mead and far away, And swim the Mirkwood-water, and amidst his eddies play When earth was dark in the dawn-tide; and over all the folk I knew of the beasts’ desires, as though in words they spoke.

“So I saw of things that should be, were they mighty things or small, And upon a day as it happened came the war-word to the hall, And the House must wend to the warfield, and as they sang, and played With the strings of the harp that even, and the mirth of the war-eve made, Came the sight of the field to my eyes, and the words waxed hot in me, And I needs must show the picture of the end of the fight to be.  Then I showed them the Red Wolf bristling o’er the broken fleeing foe; And the war-gear of the fleers, and their banner did I show, To wit the Ling-worm’s image with the maiden in his mouth; There I saw my foster-father ’mid the pale blades of the South, Till aloof swept all the handplay and the hurry of the chase, And he lay along by an ash-tree, no helm about his face, No byrny on his body; and an arrow in his thigh, And a broken spear in his shoulder.  Then I saw myself draw nigh To sing the song blood-staying.  Then saw I how we twain Went ‘midst of the host triumphant in the Wolfings’ banner-wain, The black bulls