And before it was light they found the heathery lands, and the
demi-gods lying lazy all over the side of a hill. The dwarfs stole
towards them warily in the darkness.
Now the art that the gods love most is the art of war: and when the
seed of the gods and those nimble maidens awoke and found it was war
it was almost as much to them as the godlike pursuits of heaven,
enjoyed in the marble courts; or power over wind and snow. They all
drew out at once their swords of tempered bronze, cast down to them
centuries since on stormy nights when their fathers, drew them and
faced the dwarfs, and casting their idleness from them, fell on them,
sword to axe. And the dwarfs fought hard that night, and bruised the
demi-gods sorely, hacking with those huge axes that had not spared the
oaks. Yet for all the weight of their blows and the cunning of their
adventure, one point they had overlooked: _the demi-gods were
immortal._
As the fight rolled on towards morning the fighters were fewer and
fewer, yet for all the blows of the dwarfs men fell upon one side
only.
Dawn came and the demi-gods were fighting against no more than six,
and the hour that follows dawn, and the last of the dwarfs was gone.
And when the light was clear on that peak of the Bleaks of Eerie the
eagle left his crag and flew grimly East, and found it was as he had
hoped in the matter of blood.
But the demi-gods lay down in their heathery lands, for once content
though so far from the courts of heaven, and even half forgot their
heavenly rights, and sighed no more for power over wind and snow.
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