My father and mother told my brother and me not to drink the milk of the sacred tree, but my brother insisted that I bring him some. If I refused to do it, he would not drive the cattle to the grass.
What was I to do? I could not allow the cattle to starve! So I went and cut a small hole in the tree. The milk flowed without stopping. It flowed and it flowed. When my parents saw what had happened, they would not listen to my explanation. My father had me bound in iron rings and covered in red-stained sheepskins. Now he is leading me through the country to the dwelling of an ogre who, he hopes, will destroy me.