To king of Tyrne he cattle gave
He gained by digging giants grave.
And wrestling king for single cow
Thus forcing god of war to bow.

And promise make for godlings sake
To never wreak on hero hate.
By using magic spells or chants
Or dreadful curse on hero grant.

"I bid you give me next of turn
Oh dreadful tyrant king of Tyrne.
For only two are left to grant
Your time to slay me grows yet scant.

So think for long you wretched fiend
What troubled wishes have the king.
I'm almost free to have my way
Then King of Tyrne I'll surely slay."

Though taking soft and lowing beast
To make his palace grandest feast.
The king did shake in deepest dread
At threat that hero smites him dead.

Once task are done and godlings free
He knows that starts the killing spree.
So king did think for longest time
To plan a path for perfect crime.

And slay the man at gods behest
For labors came from home of blessed.
"In world a magic orchard lies
No men by gods allowed to spy.

On trees do golden apples grow
In shinning light they glisten glow.
I bid you bring the apples near
To gates of Tyrne to city drear.

So king may feast on golden fruit
That's gain by savage godling brute.
So go and take the apples quick
By mighty deeds or cunning tricks.

And hero nods at king request
To find the golden fruit his quest.