Righteous and brave, of death never scared,
Such a man had we in the witcher Gerd.
Pursued by foul foes with intentions most vile,
He made a last stand on Ard Skellig's fair isle.
Fighting, all the while.
He arrived on her shores 'midst sobs and bawls,
"Help! A dragon yon elven ruins crawls!"
Hefting his sword in an expert grasp,
He set off at once and slew the winged asp.
Smiling, as it drew its last gasp.
But fierce as fiends his foes followed his path,
Hounding his footsteps, hearts brim full of wrath.
At night they attacked, using darkness as shield,
To no avail – soon their own lives they did yield.
By witcher's hand was much blood spilled.
'Tis a witcher's right nature to guard men from beasts,
And so Gerd's silver sword did not rust in its sheath.
Instead, to Clan Tuirseach from sirens defend
He forthwith to the Caverns of Melusine did mend
And took the first step towards his end.
Jarl Torgeir returned and exclaimed with pride:
Fortunate he who has friends at his side.
Proud is the jarl who can quit his home keep
And find in his absence no dangers did creep
And witcher saved all from death's deadly sleep.