Silver such that Sigurd saw
When he Fafnir slew, no more the blue-black dragon flew batlike
Beyond his valley’s sanction
Setting fire to thatches, all backlaunched sorties he sorely dispatched
With swordclaw and gulletflame
His nostrils like flame-fed flues no more blew out fire, famed Fafnir died.
The hero tore out the spear
That he had forced through the brute’s less adorned rear.
Alchemisland 
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