Swirling and slashing, the sword whirled gracefully
Herons inscribed on the hilt telling of blademaster,
Even melting sun made it shine fivefold,
as a slash and thrust it took
deep in enemies' breastplate, befalling High Lords,
Magnificient yet was the one who grasped the sword
never trained until a Warder taught him,
as like a whirlwind he became a weapon,
one with the sword, one with Manetheren,
like a heron he danced with blade in hand
meeting stroke to stroke like lightning;
The Sword of Manetheren he wielded,
fierce blood of the Two Rivers folk he had,
never willing to give up, no matter how severe the price.
And his name was Rand al'Thor.
[This message has been edited by Artur Hawkwing (edited 07-20-99).]