At that parting I turned back into the hall downcast, only because my father had thought me not yet strong enough to ride beside him, and a little angry and hurt moreover, for I was broad and strong for my sixteen years.
Little thought I that in years to come I should remember all of that leave taking, even to the least thing that happened; but so it is.

No man may rightly be said to forget aught.

All that he has known and learnt is there, hidden up in his mind to come forth if there is anything that shall call it again to light.
Now my father lies resting among nameless heroes who died for England on Nacton Heath--I know not even which of the great mounds it may be that holds his bones--but he fell before the flight began when Thurketyl Mirehead played the craven.

Neither victor nor vanquished was he when his end came, but maybe that is the best end for a warrior after all.

Some must fall, and some may live to boast, and some remain to mourn, but to give life for fatherland in hottest strife is good.