Badgered by dreams, perhaps, he swayed with little bounces and starts, like an old, toddy-stricken grandfather in a chimney corner.

Dust and stains were upon his face.

His lower jaw hung down as if lacking strength to assume its normal position.

He was the picture of an exhausted soldier after a feast of war.
He had evidently gone to sleep with his sword in his arms.

These two had slumbered in an embrace, but the weapon had been allowed in time to fall unheeded to the ground.