I did finally manage to pry a dozen lines or so of the Epic out of the dancing daughters of the twins.

King Valden, of course, saw everything,
for his keen eyes marked all that occurred
within the circle of his hearth’s heat
and the leaping, dancing shadows.
As the shepherd rests but fitfully
alert for the cry of wolf and bear,
and the distant baying of trapped ewes
or the horn-clash of embattled rams,
ready to rise with crook and bow,
and fight with any threat to his flock,
so does a king recline on his throne,
restless even when taking his ease.
A challenge can come from anywhere:
even the yeoman at the doorpost,
who loyally sits a lonely watch,
may rebel against his sovereign lord
or with scheming dreams doom his master.
Inaradd’s deeds were much in his mind,
and though his hall held many heroes,
sly king Valden saw the red sailor
as the sort of man who must go far —
Without restraint on his ambition,
his thoughtful eye might stray to the crown.
So the king resolved to lend his help
that Inaradd might fulfull his oath
to the ghosting of Captain Asho,
and journey away over Ocean,
from when he would likely not return,
or come home an old and broken man.

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