"The lion roars, the dire wolf howls",
They heard once more, amongst the bowels,
Of a tavern's drought, for all the men,
More ale was bought, by a drunk Jojen.
Across there sunk, drunker still,
A lion's bunk, amongst the swill,
The boy did sleep, snoring loud,
With ale to keep, a lion proud.
When, "what is this!" Jojen exclaimed,
"Something's amiss! The lion's mane!"
The man spoke true, for the kingsguard,
Was gone anew, says this sweet bard.
"Where could he be?" He thought aloud,
"I'll surely see, outside this crowd",
So out he went, into the street,
Unbowed, unbent, but almost beat.
Despite his best, he could not find,
This friend distressed, until touched blind...
Jojen did whirl, and take attack,
The screaming girl, behind his back.
He fought and scratched, most valiantly.
But his foe did match, fee for fee.
Till sudden he saw, his unnamed foe.
The lion's claw! Drunk and aglow.