I watched Achilles return from the body of Patroklos. With fire in his eyes, he first put on the greaves linked with silver fastenings. Quickly and fiercely he girded on the corselet that shined brighter than fire. Slung across his shoulder was the sword with the nails of silver, a bronze sword, and the great heavy shield made by Hephaistos. The shield! Oh the shield! It was absolutely divine! Every single part of the world was on this shield. The longer I gazed at this shield, the more it seemed as though the designs themselves were moving! The helm that he placed on his head shone brighter than any star at the darkest hour of the night. With armor and weapons such as these, who would dare cross the path of Achilles and survive? Not I, of course.
With a godlike warrior on our side, storming the walls of Troy should be of no problem for the Achaean forces! These Trojans stand no fighting chance, for even the titans would have trouble facing him. My eyes see Hector once more. I vowed to him that the next time we meet, it would be his death and not mine. But because Achilles will not stop until the killer of Patroklos is ended by Achilles' hands, I shall refrain from that fight for fear of my life. Instead I will make sport of the weak measly soldiers that flee from me!
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