And so the companions go and ride forth,
following Aglanor, straight to the north.
Ayslhyn and his lady, then Patsy on his mule,
and although he has no horse, still he looks cool.
In the armor he has borrowed from his master,
riding a horse would be a real disaster:
he's clanging and clonging, swaying in the sadle,
is his hand in stead of a sword, he carries a ladle.
Drieske closes the ranks with Gunnar at her side,
riding on this quest with him fills her with pride.
Guided by the intricate map, on and on they canter,
filling the golden sunlit hours with fondly banter.
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