The Forges of Ingur 2017 Released June 1st, 2017. All music and lyrics composed by Federico Lucchi. Recorded and mixed at Dolfin Studios, Nanning, Guangxi, China.
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The Forges of Ingur
A tale by Federico Lucchi
In the cold lands of the Great North, there lies a city on the side of the desolate great Mount Ingur. Although relatively small, the city, which bears the same name as the mountain it stands on, is both powerful and rich, for deep in the mountain lies iron, in the purest form ever exposed to the light by men. The metal is made even more precious by the unrivalled skill of the city's smiths, whose ability to forge the strongest and sharpest blades ever made by mortals is passed on by countless generations. The coal fires of the giant forges built inside the very rock of the mountain burn day and night, for very difficult and laborious is their lighting. The city is reached by a long and winding path which climbs up out of Rasmath, the dark forest lying in the shadow of the massive mountain. Although the giant forges and the precious ore sleeping deep in the mountain are coveted by many powerful lords, the fortified city in the tall cold mountain is almost unaccessible to an army and impossible to besiege due to the mountain's steep rocky edges and numerous secret tunnels leading to the dark forest of Rasmath.
In the city, there lives a young smith named Anselm. Although great are his skills to shape the steel, he comes from a poor family and still works as a simple assistant for the rich and proud smith Bayard. The latter is so rich and renowned that he hardly holds his hammer anymore, letting his subordinates complete the work in his stead, taking both the merit and the money of their hard toil. But word is slowly spreading that the young Anselm's skills are surpassing Bayard's abilities, because of his talent and constant practice. Angered by the young man's growing fame, Bayard looks down with jealousy on Anselm and appoints to him the most menial works, such as actioning the large bellows during the whole night or removing the heaps of coal ashes under the forges. One day, when a knight renowned for his courage and chivalry asks for a sword specifically forged for him by Anselm, Bayard proudly offers to take to himself the task of forging the weapon, boasting of his own superior talent and experience in the craft. But when the sword is ready, the adventurous warrior, named Edun, declines it because of its weight and imperfect line. Offended and boiling with rage, Bayard dismisses Anselm refusing to pay his due.
As soon as the chivalrous Edun gets word of the dismissal of Anselm by the jealous Bayard, he offers the young smith to take him as his squire and to teach him both the ways of the sword and the skills of riding. Without money and a place to sleep, Anselm cannot refuse and accepts the challenge. The following day, at dawn, the young man takes leave from his beloved maid, the fair daughter of the city's richest smith, and promises her to come back with both honour and fame. Edun and his new squire leave the city and take the path that leads them deep down through the forest of Rasmath.
For three whole years does Edun travel to far lands, with his faithful squire by his side in each battle, on each difficult mountain path and through every long night spent watching the fire and the horses. Slowly does Anselm learn to handle the sword and the battle axe with even more speed and strength than he handled his hammer. His strong arms, used to tirelessly beating the red iron, learn to swing his weapons with both vigour and power. His love and respect for everything that lives and grows also serves him well in the art of riding. Deep and strong grow the bonds to his horse, and many a cold night do they spend back to back, sharing their bodies warmth.
At the end of the third year, having reached the age of 21, Anselm spends the night in prayer, asking the Lord for the blessings and wisdom to fulfill his future duty as a knight. On the next day, Edun dubs the young man, who makes the oath to protect the poor and the widow, and serve his lord Edun in both life and death. The valorous lord generously gifts the young knight with an armour, a mighty sword forged long ago in the great forges of Ingur, and the black steed Anselm rode on in the past years. He also gives Anselm a one year leave to allow him to go back to Ingur, to settle his family affairs and marry the maid he loves. Anselm thus rides off to his homeland, his heart racing for the one he loves. Although he is now a knight serving the renowned lord Edun, he worries that his maid might have forgotten him, and that she married one of the city's rich smiths, preferring the luxury and comfort of a merchant to the honour of a valorous knight.
As he is crossing the dark and vast forest of Rasmath, he is troubled by the absence of any living creature, the absolute stillness of all the trees and an evil grey smoke, hovering low above the ground like some ill-fated fog. He nonetheless rides on hastily through the night, without armour but bearing his sword close at hand. Shortly before dawn he reaches a wide clearing, where burnt tree trunks lie around on a stomped and ash-covered ground. In the very middle of the clearing lies an enormous dragon, his body coiled like a giant snake and thick white smoke pouring out of his nostrils along with his long and heavy breathing. With each hissing inspiration, that seems to last for minutes, the trees surrounding the horrible scene tremble, shaking their leaves withered by the worm's body heat. Everything then stands completely still for a few seconds, until the monster's lungs slowly start expelling the air, filling the forest with its suffocating smoke.
Awoken by Anselm's approaching horse, the terrifying worm slowly opens his eyes without stirring his body. He contemplates the young knight's dirty clothes and tired appearance for a few moments, then addresses him with a malicious grin:
"You have come a long way to die, proud knight! Is it for me that you bear all those gifts?" The dragon throws a glance at Anselm's armour and weapons hanging on his horse's side.
"You are mistaken if you think I bear any treasure, I am but a traveler on his way home, empty-handed," the young knight replies cautiously.
"You are but a poor liar, bold knight, for bold indeed you must be to lie to a dragon as powerful and reckless as me. I am the great Elsorth, my sight is keener than you think, and I can see your sword, forged times ago in the great forges that lie not too far above us. Do you really ignore its value, or do you just pretend to?" Anselm pauses a second, trying to think of a clever answer, but the dragon carries on, his eyes fixing the knight's every move: "No need to lie again, although I relish your clumsy and unfruitful attempts. You are afraid. I can see it in your eyes, I can smell it in your breath. I can see how desperately you are holding the bridle of your terrified steed."
The worm slowly turns his head to better watch Anselm through his gleaming red eyes.
"Tell me, what is it you fear so much? Death? Fire? A valorous knight like you shouldn't fear for his own life..." He quickly shakes a cloud of dust and ashes off his big head, then continues: "Or maybe you fear for someone else's life? Someone dwelling in the city?"
Anselm does not move a muscle, but clenches his teeth and pulls the nervous steed's bridle even tighter. The clever Elsorth, whose keen sight did not miss it, smiles maliciously and keeps on staring at the young man, enjoying his discomfort and evident anguish. The worm moves his giant head a little closer and speaks again slowly in a cruel whisper, his deep voice rattling the dry leaves of the nearby willows:
“Perhaps a fair maid? A sweet lass that patiently waited for her beloved to ask for her tiny white hand? How sad would it be to find her body in the midst of Ingur’s burning ruins…”
The dragon turns his head, facing Anselm once more, who still cannot move or speak from terror and anger. The dragon’s mouth opens into a wide and evil grin, showing rows of long sharp teeth, while his eyes turn deep red, like a dying fire. Loudening his tone, Elsorth carries on:
“I am tempted to burn you right here, for your beautiful steed looks like a nice dinner. But I think I will rather let you go to call for help. Thus I will have more man flesh to feast upon once I will have torn Ingur apart.”
In a desperate move, Anselm draws his sword from the sheath hanging on his side. Terrified, the horse, now held by just one rein, jumps back trying to turn around and flee. The knight immediately catches both reins and forces the horse to face Elsorth again, but by so doing he drops the mighty blade to the ground. The dragon quietly raises his head and laughs mockingly.
“Do you really think you can fight me, miserable mortal? My armour is a thousandfold stronger than yours, my teeth can cut through steel and stone, and my mouth breathes terror and destruction!”
Having shouted these last scornful words, Elsorth turns towards the mountain and unfolds his immeasurable wings, covering the whole clearance with his dreadful shadow. Like a crow leaving the ground, the dark dragon leaps heavily forward in the direction of the helpless city, leaving Anselm in a suffocating cloud of smoke and ashes raised by his beating wings. The young knight hesitates a second, but realizing that calling for any help would be useless, for it would come too late to rescue the city, he pushes his horse to a full gallop on the path leading out of Rasmath towards Ingur. As he crosses the burnt and torn clearance, the first red rays of the rising sun shine on the top of the trees and on the twisting path, filling again Anselm’s heart with hope and courage.
Meanwhile, the evil Elsorth flies towards a city that is far from peaceful and unsuspecting. The night watchmen had since dusk caught sight of Elsorth, when he flew to Rasmath to rest, and had immediately blown the alarm. While women, children and the elderly are being led to safety through the hidden pathways emerging into the dark forest, all men fit to fight are donning their armours and getting their blades sharpened. After putting out the forges’ fires, the young smiths and furnace assistants work hard to shovel the coal in the deeper storages of the great forges, out of reach of Elsorth’s fiery breath. The underground water sources used by the smiths to temper the hot metal are being fully opened with pickaxes, filling the caverns with water to knee-height, thus protecting them from the dragon’s fire. Gudmund, the lord leading the hasty preparations, ordered all men to leave their precious belonging in the houses, hoping that the dragon might be satisfied with the loot and leave the forges untouched. But the city dwellers ignore that Elsorth’s plan is to capture both the city and the forges to make of them his nest. The high mountain is a strategic point for a dragon as keen-sighted as him, and the great forges built inside the mountain are a perfect shelter to sleep in, for those of his kin are fond of dark caverns.
When the giant worm finally reaches the city, the sun is already above the horizon and its golden rays shine on Elsorth’s black scales. The city’s watchtowers and fortified walls are packed with archers and bold men armed with heavy battle axes, bows and arrows, and swords. As the dragon circles the town a first time, looking for weak spots, hundreds of whistling arrows break against his armour or bounce off his thick skin. Encouraged by the archers’ futile attempts, Elsorth soars over the city, spitting flames at the empty houses. The whole city rapidly turns into a blazing furnace, forcing the soldiers to retreat from the fortifications towards the forges. As most men leave the fortified walls because of the growing heat and suffocating smoke, Elsorth crushes the unprotected watchtowers with his heavy body and sets the wooden structures of the city walls ablaze. Once his demolition completed, the dragon lands in front of the forges’ gates. Inside the deep caverns are the soldiers barricaded, waiting for the dragon to crush the gates in order to engage him in a battle on the ground. But the clever Elsorth, who fought men before, knows he is not as invincible on the ground as he is in the air. Entering the dark caverns means he could get trapped, and thus be an easy target for the apparently fearless soldiers. On the other hand, he fears help might eventually come to rescue the city, forcing him to leave without any loot. Elsorth now regrets not to have immediately killed the young knight who awoke him in the forest. But it is too late for regrets, and to make Ingur his own, he needs to take the forges before Anselm comes from the valley below with an army.
Filled with anger and hate for his foolish mistake, Elsorth slams his massive body violently against the large iron gates. But the strong doors’ hinges and locks were forged by Ingur’s best smiths, long time ago, and even a dragon as large and powerful as Elsorth cannot take them down with one blow. Again and again, the large dragon pulls his strength together and rams the doors with all his might. After the sixth blow, by command of lord Gudmund, a group of young men hastily removes the locks from the doors while the infuriated dragon gets ready to ram them once again. As Elsorth hits the forges’ gates for the seventh time at full speed, the metal doors effortlessly swing open and the surprised dragon tumbles inside the damp caverns. The men who removed the locks immediately close the large gates behind the dragon, imprisoning him inside and plunging the caverns into darkness. Baffled by his tumbling entry and blinded from coming from the sunlight into the darkness, Elsorth stops in the middle of the cavern, unable to see the soldiers surrounding him. The strong lord Gudmund does not wait for the dragon to recover his senses and leaps forward with all his strength, plunging his long sharp sword in a chink of the dragon’s soft belly. Still unable to see his adversaries, and surprised by the painful wound in his chest and the freezing water pouring from the sources and cooling his hot body, the suddenly scared dragon turns around and crashes through the doors, whose locks, weakened by the previous blows, give way to his sudden flight. But as he blindly rammed the doors, Elsorth forced the sword all the way into his chest, thus wounding himself to death. Maddened by pain, the defeated dragon jumps high into the sky in a last desperate attempt to save his life. Weakened by his previous attempts to ram the gates and by Gudmund’s sword wound, Elsorth wings cannot support the dragon’s weight and he rolls down into Rasmath, stopping on the very edge of a deep ravine.
Shortly thereafter comes Anselm out of the forest, riding his weary black steed. At the sight of the exhausted and bleeding dragon, the young knight stops and dismounts from his horse. Still without any armour and wearing nothing but his light travelling garments, Anselm approaches Elsorth, firmly holding his sword in his right hand.
“Here you are at last, to give the final blow and take the victory for yourself. Didn’t your lord teach you not to take the prize of a war you didn’t fight? Unless I’m wrong and you come with more honourable intentions?” says the dragon with a scornful smile.
“I don’t intend to kill you, but I hold my sword because those of your kin cannot be trusted nor pitied, for when would a dragon pity the soul of one of his defenceless victims?”
“You are right, I never pitied you and your miserable horse. I only planned on eating both of you after burning Ingur to the ground, along with your beloved damsel!” replies Elsorth in an even crueller tone.
“Your evil fire has been useless, worm, for the women and children most surely left the city through the secret tunnels long before dawn. Ingur’s guards keep watchful eyes on Rasmath, and you have been certainly sighted while lazily sleeping in the forest.”
The dragon hisses with rage and his cruel smile turns into a hateful scowl.
“I am indeed defeated, but I will repair my mistake of not turning you into ashes, when we first met in the forest !”
Having said so through his clenched teeth, Elsorth gathers the remaining strength left in his bleeding body and leaps towards Anselm. But the young knight, who had foreseen the dragon’s intentions, had intentionally been standing on the very edge of the ravine, and as Elsorth leaps toward him, he swiftly dodges the massive dragon. Missing his target, the weakened worm tumbles into the ravine, disappearing into the depths with a terrifying howl.
The dragon being now defeated, Anselm mounts his horse and takes the path leading to the burnt city. As the knight enters the main gates, the soldiers and smiths welcome him warmly, surprised to see him after such a long time. Many ask him if he saw the dragon attack the city, because none knows about Anselm and Elsorth’s last confrontation. The watchtowers having been torn down by the worm, nobody saw the dragon tumble into Rasmath, and finally fall into the deep ravine. But everybody heard Elsorth’s blood-curling cry, and the soldiers guessed the dragon’s fate. Although most of the city lies in ruins, all men rejoice for the defeat of the powerful Elsorth, for few lives have been lost in the short battle.
Anselm never tells anyone about his encounters with the dragon, he only mentions catching sight of the bleeding creature falling into the ravine. Shortly thereafter, he marries the lady he loved, and moves with her back to the lands of Edun, his lord. The legend which rapidly arises in the neighbouring lands does not mention Anselm nor lord Gudmund, the dragon-slayer. Instead, the tales talk about Angris, the magic sword which pierced Elsorth’s heart and disappeared in the depths of the Earth along with the defeated dragon.
In the city, there lives a young smith named Anselm. Although great are his skills to shape the steel, he comes from a poor family and still works as a simple assistant for the rich and proud smith Bayard. The latter is so rich and renowned that he hardly holds his hammer anymore, letting his subordinates complete the work in his stead, taking both the merit and the money of their hard toil. But word is slowly spreading that the young Anselm's skills are surpassing Bayard's abilities, because of his talent and constant practice. Angered by the young man's growing fame, Bayard looks down with jealousy on Anselm and appoints to him the most menial works, such as actioning the large bellows during the whole night or removing the heaps of coal ashes under the forges. One day, when a knight renowned for his courage and chivalry asks for a sword specifically forged for him by Anselm, Bayard proudly offers to take to himself the task of forging the weapon, boasting of his own superior talent and experience in the craft. But when the sword is ready, the adventurous warrior, named Edun, declines it because of its weight and imperfect line. Offended and boiling with rage, Bayard dismisses Anselm refusing to pay his due.
As soon as the chivalrous Edun gets word of the dismissal of Anselm by the jealous Bayard, he offers the young smith to take him as his squire and to teach him both the ways of the sword and the skills of riding. Without money and a place to sleep, Anselm cannot refuse and accepts the challenge. The following day, at dawn, the young man takes leave from his beloved maid, the fair daughter of the city's richest smith, and promises her to come back with both honour and fame. Edun and his new squire leave the city and take the path that leads them deep down through the forest of Rasmath.
For three whole years does Edun travel to far lands, with his faithful squire by his side in each battle, on each difficult mountain path and through every long night spent watching the fire and the horses. Slowly does Anselm learn to handle the sword and the battle axe with even more speed and strength than he handled his hammer. His strong arms, used to tirelessly beating the red iron, learn to swing his weapons with both vigour and power. His love and respect for everything that lives and grows also serves him well in the art of riding. Deep and strong grow the bonds to his horse, and many a cold night do they spend back to back, sharing their bodies warmth.
At the end of the third year, having reached the age of 21, Anselm spends the night in prayer, asking the Lord for the blessings and wisdom to fulfill his future duty as a knight. On the next day, Edun dubs the young man, who makes the oath to protect the poor and the widow, and serve his lord Edun in both life and death. The valorous lord generously gifts the young knight with an armour, a mighty sword forged long ago in the great forges of Ingur, and the black steed Anselm rode on in the past years. He also gives Anselm a one year leave to allow him to go back to Ingur, to settle his family affairs and marry the maid he loves. Anselm thus rides off to his homeland, his heart racing for the one he loves. Although he is now a knight serving the renowned lord Edun, he worries that his maid might have forgotten him, and that she married one of the city's rich smiths, preferring the luxury and comfort of a merchant to the honour of a valorous knight.
As he is crossing the dark and vast forest of Rasmath, he is troubled by the absence of any living creature, the absolute stillness of all the trees and an evil grey smoke, hovering low above the ground like some ill-fated fog. He nonetheless rides on hastily through the night, without armour but bearing his sword close at hand. Shortly before dawn he reaches a wide clearing, where burnt tree trunks lie around on a stomped and ash-covered ground. In the very middle of the clearing lies an enormous dragon, his body coiled like a giant snake and thick white smoke pouring out of his nostrils along with his long and heavy breathing. With each hissing inspiration, that seems to last for minutes, the trees surrounding the horrible scene tremble, shaking their leaves withered by the worm's body heat. Everything then stands completely still for a few seconds, until the monster's lungs slowly start expelling the air, filling the forest with its suffocating smoke.
Awoken by Anselm's approaching horse, the terrifying worm slowly opens his eyes without stirring his body. He contemplates the young knight's dirty clothes and tired appearance for a few moments, then addresses him with a malicious grin:
"You have come a long way to die, proud knight! Is it for me that you bear all those gifts?" The dragon throws a glance at Anselm's armour and weapons hanging on his horse's side.
"You are mistaken if you think I bear any treasure, I am but a traveler on his way home, empty-handed," the young knight replies cautiously.
"You are but a poor liar, bold knight, for bold indeed you must be to lie to a dragon as powerful and reckless as me. I am the great Elsorth, my sight is keener than you think, and I can see your sword, forged times ago in the great forges that lie not too far above us. Do you really ignore its value, or do you just pretend to?" Anselm pauses a second, trying to think of a clever answer, but the dragon carries on, his eyes fixing the knight's every move: "No need to lie again, although I relish your clumsy and unfruitful attempts. You are afraid. I can see it in your eyes, I can smell it in your breath. I can see how desperately you are holding the bridle of your terrified steed."
The worm slowly turns his head to better watch Anselm through his gleaming red eyes.
"Tell me, what is it you fear so much? Death? Fire? A valorous knight like you shouldn't fear for his own life..." He quickly shakes a cloud of dust and ashes off his big head, then continues: "Or maybe you fear for someone else's life? Someone dwelling in the city?"
Anselm does not move a muscle, but clenches his teeth and pulls the nervous steed's bridle even tighter. The clever Elsorth, whose keen sight did not miss it, smiles maliciously and keeps on staring at the young man, enjoying his discomfort and evident anguish. The worm moves his giant head a little closer and speaks again slowly in a cruel whisper, his deep voice rattling the dry leaves of the nearby willows:
“Perhaps a fair maid? A sweet lass that patiently waited for her beloved to ask for her tiny white hand? How sad would it be to find her body in the midst of Ingur’s burning ruins…”
The dragon turns his head, facing Anselm once more, who still cannot move or speak from terror and anger. The dragon’s mouth opens into a wide and evil grin, showing rows of long sharp teeth, while his eyes turn deep red, like a dying fire. Loudening his tone, Elsorth carries on:
“I am tempted to burn you right here, for your beautiful steed looks like a nice dinner. But I think I will rather let you go to call for help. Thus I will have more man flesh to feast upon once I will have torn Ingur apart.”
In a desperate move, Anselm draws his sword from the sheath hanging on his side. Terrified, the horse, now held by just one rein, jumps back trying to turn around and flee. The knight immediately catches both reins and forces the horse to face Elsorth again, but by so doing he drops the mighty blade to the ground. The dragon quietly raises his head and laughs mockingly.
“Do you really think you can fight me, miserable mortal? My armour is a thousandfold stronger than yours, my teeth can cut through steel and stone, and my mouth breathes terror and destruction!”
Having shouted these last scornful words, Elsorth turns towards the mountain and unfolds his immeasurable wings, covering the whole clearance with his dreadful shadow. Like a crow leaving the ground, the dark dragon leaps heavily forward in the direction of the helpless city, leaving Anselm in a suffocating cloud of smoke and ashes raised by his beating wings. The young knight hesitates a second, but realizing that calling for any help would be useless, for it would come too late to rescue the city, he pushes his horse to a full gallop on the path leading out of Rasmath towards Ingur. As he crosses the burnt and torn clearance, the first red rays of the rising sun shine on the top of the trees and on the twisting path, filling again Anselm’s heart with hope and courage.
Meanwhile, the evil Elsorth flies towards a city that is far from peaceful and unsuspecting. The night watchmen had since dusk caught sight of Elsorth, when he flew to Rasmath to rest, and had immediately blown the alarm. While women, children and the elderly are being led to safety through the hidden pathways emerging into the dark forest, all men fit to fight are donning their armours and getting their blades sharpened. After putting out the forges’ fires, the young smiths and furnace assistants work hard to shovel the coal in the deeper storages of the great forges, out of reach of Elsorth’s fiery breath. The underground water sources used by the smiths to temper the hot metal are being fully opened with pickaxes, filling the caverns with water to knee-height, thus protecting them from the dragon’s fire. Gudmund, the lord leading the hasty preparations, ordered all men to leave their precious belonging in the houses, hoping that the dragon might be satisfied with the loot and leave the forges untouched. But the city dwellers ignore that Elsorth’s plan is to capture both the city and the forges to make of them his nest. The high mountain is a strategic point for a dragon as keen-sighted as him, and the great forges built inside the mountain are a perfect shelter to sleep in, for those of his kin are fond of dark caverns.
When the giant worm finally reaches the city, the sun is already above the horizon and its golden rays shine on Elsorth’s black scales. The city’s watchtowers and fortified walls are packed with archers and bold men armed with heavy battle axes, bows and arrows, and swords. As the dragon circles the town a first time, looking for weak spots, hundreds of whistling arrows break against his armour or bounce off his thick skin. Encouraged by the archers’ futile attempts, Elsorth soars over the city, spitting flames at the empty houses. The whole city rapidly turns into a blazing furnace, forcing the soldiers to retreat from the fortifications towards the forges. As most men leave the fortified walls because of the growing heat and suffocating smoke, Elsorth crushes the unprotected watchtowers with his heavy body and sets the wooden structures of the city walls ablaze. Once his demolition completed, the dragon lands in front of the forges’ gates. Inside the deep caverns are the soldiers barricaded, waiting for the dragon to crush the gates in order to engage him in a battle on the ground. But the clever Elsorth, who fought men before, knows he is not as invincible on the ground as he is in the air. Entering the dark caverns means he could get trapped, and thus be an easy target for the apparently fearless soldiers. On the other hand, he fears help might eventually come to rescue the city, forcing him to leave without any loot. Elsorth now regrets not to have immediately killed the young knight who awoke him in the forest. But it is too late for regrets, and to make Ingur his own, he needs to take the forges before Anselm comes from the valley below with an army.
Filled with anger and hate for his foolish mistake, Elsorth slams his massive body violently against the large iron gates. But the strong doors’ hinges and locks were forged by Ingur’s best smiths, long time ago, and even a dragon as large and powerful as Elsorth cannot take them down with one blow. Again and again, the large dragon pulls his strength together and rams the doors with all his might. After the sixth blow, by command of lord Gudmund, a group of young men hastily removes the locks from the doors while the infuriated dragon gets ready to ram them once again. As Elsorth hits the forges’ gates for the seventh time at full speed, the metal doors effortlessly swing open and the surprised dragon tumbles inside the damp caverns. The men who removed the locks immediately close the large gates behind the dragon, imprisoning him inside and plunging the caverns into darkness. Baffled by his tumbling entry and blinded from coming from the sunlight into the darkness, Elsorth stops in the middle of the cavern, unable to see the soldiers surrounding him. The strong lord Gudmund does not wait for the dragon to recover his senses and leaps forward with all his strength, plunging his long sharp sword in a chink of the dragon’s soft belly. Still unable to see his adversaries, and surprised by the painful wound in his chest and the freezing water pouring from the sources and cooling his hot body, the suddenly scared dragon turns around and crashes through the doors, whose locks, weakened by the previous blows, give way to his sudden flight. But as he blindly rammed the doors, Elsorth forced the sword all the way into his chest, thus wounding himself to death. Maddened by pain, the defeated dragon jumps high into the sky in a last desperate attempt to save his life. Weakened by his previous attempts to ram the gates and by Gudmund’s sword wound, Elsorth wings cannot support the dragon’s weight and he rolls down into Rasmath, stopping on the very edge of a deep ravine.
Shortly thereafter comes Anselm out of the forest, riding his weary black steed. At the sight of the exhausted and bleeding dragon, the young knight stops and dismounts from his horse. Still without any armour and wearing nothing but his light travelling garments, Anselm approaches Elsorth, firmly holding his sword in his right hand.
“Here you are at last, to give the final blow and take the victory for yourself. Didn’t your lord teach you not to take the prize of a war you didn’t fight? Unless I’m wrong and you come with more honourable intentions?” says the dragon with a scornful smile.
“I don’t intend to kill you, but I hold my sword because those of your kin cannot be trusted nor pitied, for when would a dragon pity the soul of one of his defenceless victims?”
“You are right, I never pitied you and your miserable horse. I only planned on eating both of you after burning Ingur to the ground, along with your beloved damsel!” replies Elsorth in an even crueller tone.
“Your evil fire has been useless, worm, for the women and children most surely left the city through the secret tunnels long before dawn. Ingur’s guards keep watchful eyes on Rasmath, and you have been certainly sighted while lazily sleeping in the forest.”
The dragon hisses with rage and his cruel smile turns into a hateful scowl.
“I am indeed defeated, but I will repair my mistake of not turning you into ashes, when we first met in the forest !”
Having said so through his clenched teeth, Elsorth gathers the remaining strength left in his bleeding body and leaps towards Anselm. But the young knight, who had foreseen the dragon’s intentions, had intentionally been standing on the very edge of the ravine, and as Elsorth leaps toward him, he swiftly dodges the massive dragon. Missing his target, the weakened worm tumbles into the ravine, disappearing into the depths with a terrifying howl.
The dragon being now defeated, Anselm mounts his horse and takes the path leading to the burnt city. As the knight enters the main gates, the soldiers and smiths welcome him warmly, surprised to see him after such a long time. Many ask him if he saw the dragon attack the city, because none knows about Anselm and Elsorth’s last confrontation. The watchtowers having been torn down by the worm, nobody saw the dragon tumble into Rasmath, and finally fall into the deep ravine. But everybody heard Elsorth’s blood-curling cry, and the soldiers guessed the dragon’s fate. Although most of the city lies in ruins, all men rejoice for the defeat of the powerful Elsorth, for few lives have been lost in the short battle.
Anselm never tells anyone about his encounters with the dragon, he only mentions catching sight of the bleeding creature falling into the ravine. Shortly thereafter, he marries the lady he loved, and moves with her back to the lands of Edun, his lord. The legend which rapidly arises in the neighbouring lands does not mention Anselm nor lord Gudmund, the dragon-slayer. Instead, the tales talk about Angris, the magic sword which pierced Elsorth’s heart and disappeared in the depths of the Earth along with the defeated dragon.