He snorts. "These wounds? Pah, they art not e'en enow to give me a taste for drink to numb them. Hadst I half a mind whilst I wast fighting them, mayhap I wouldst hath given myself a better one just so the Celts couldst go to whate'er paradise full of elves and soft music awaits them without feeling entirely fools. Leave off and let us go, if I leave a little more blood here at least the land wilt taste courage for a few moments."
He stands, steadying himself and testing his grip on his axe. "Aye, the way mortals like it. But we hath no time to kill him quietly in his sleep and he mayst enjoy it." he spits. "Celts." he adds, like it were a cuss word.
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