So,
without more ado, they came together, and thereupon began a fierce and
mighty battle. Right and left, and up and down and back and forth they
fought. The swords flashed in the sun and then met with a clash that
sounded far and near. I wot this was no playful bout at quarterstaff,
but a grim and serious fight of real earnest. Thus they strove for an
hour or more, pausing every now and then to rest, at which times each
looked at the other with wonder, and thought that never had he seen so
stout a fellow; then once again they would go at it more fiercely than
ever. Yet in all this time neither had harmed the other nor caused his
blood to flow. At last merry Robin cried, "Hold thy hand, good friend!"
whereupon both lowered their swords.
"Now I crave a boon ere we begin again," quoth Robin, wiping the sweat
from his brow; for they had striven so long that he began to think that
it would be an ill-done thing either to be smitten himself or to smite
so stout and brave a fellow.
"What wouldst thou have of me?" asked the Friar.
"Only this," quoth Robin; "that thou wilt let me blow thrice upon my
bugle horn.
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