Three heads of thy fighting men did I carry off from Dun Moonremar, and one of the three was the head of thy eldest son." Moonremar then sat down.
"Still the contest," said Ket, "or I shall carve the boar." "Contest thou shalt have," said Mend, son of Sword-heel.

"Who is this ?" said Ket.

"'Tis Mend," cried all the Ulstermen.
"Shall the sons of fellows with nicknames come here to contend with me ?" cried Ket.

"I was the priest who christened thy father that name.
'Twas I who cut the heel off him, so that off he went with only one.
What brings the son of that man to contend with me ?" Mend then sat down in his seat.
"Come to the contest," said Ket, "or I shall begin to carve." Then arose from the Ulstermen a huge grey and terrible warrior.

"Who is this ?" asked Ket.