It would be ill to disturb this place with idle sounds." That seemed right, but I thought I could not bear the silence--silence of the grave.

I must know that he was close at hand.

Then a thought came to me, and I unfastened the silver-mounted whetstone that hung from my belt and gave it him.
"Whet your sword edge sharply," I said.

"That is a sound a hero loves, for it speaks of deeds to be done." "Ay, that is no idle sound," he said, and drew his sword gladly.
The haft of the well-known blade brought the light into his eyes again.

I drew my own sword also.
"If you need me, call, and I think I shall not fail you," he whispered.