Tristan now drew his sword and thought to have found the beast defenseless — but no, the danger was now greater than before. Yet, however arduous it was, Tristan attacked the dragon for a second time and the dragon the man in return, reducing him to such straits that he thought his end had come. But for the fact that he never let it get to grips with him, it would soon have robbed him of the power either to strike or parry. And indeed, it was an army in itself. It took smoke and steam into battle with it and other equipment in the shape of fire and teeth, and also claws with which to strike, so sharp and finely set that they were keener than a razor. With these it chased him around and round from tree to bush, through many a dreadful twist and turn. He had to take cover and hang on as best as he could, since the fight was not to his advantage. Yet he had ventured such resolute counter-attacks that the shield which he held was all but charred to cinders, for the dragon attacked him with fire, so that he barely eluded its onslaught.

This, however, did not last very long. The murderous reptile soon reached a point where it began to lose heart, and the spear so told on it that the beast sank to the ground and lay writhing there in agony. Tristan lost no time. He raced up at speed and plunged his sword into its heart beside the spear, all the way up to his hand.

Gottfried's Tristan