Beltane, the Smith
"Art going, sir? Wilt not try me once again? Methinks I might do a little better this time, an so God wills."
"Aye, so thou shalt, sweet youth," cried the stranger, clapping him upon the shoulder, "yet not now, for I must begone, yet shall I return."
"Then I pray you leave with me the sword till you be come again."
"The sword--ha! doth thy soul cleave unto it so soon, my good, sweet boy? Leave the sword, quotha? Aye, truly--some day. But for the nonce-- no, no, thy hand is not fitted to bear it yet, nor worthy such a blade, but some day,