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The year went by swiftly; the trees grew green with spring, the leaves faded through the bright summer days, turned to red and gold in the early autumn. On Michaelmas Dy, King Arthur held a feast at Caerleon with many of his knights, in honour of me, who must on the morrow set forth upon my dreadful quest. I put on my armour and attached my sword to my side and took the Green Knight's axe in his hand. I climbed onto Gringalet war-horse and rode into the forests of South Wales. I soon set out and rode through the realm of Lorges, seeking for no joy but a deadly danger at the end of the quest. After many days of traveling, I came into the wild lands of North Wales and fared through lonely valleys and deep forests, forced often to sleep out under the stars at night and to do battle during the day with robbers and wild men. The harsh winter had closed upon me when I came to the northern sea, left the islands of Anglesey, and came by Clwyd to the Holy Head. Near to the mouth he forded the stream at low tide, and came across the desolate sands into the wild Forest of Wirral. Here were many more robbers and evil men, lying in wait by forest path and lonely stream.
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