Fridthjofs Saga | Page 9

a mantle all flaming, Furious
demon scouring a blade that with blood spots was covered. Vain was
his labor, naught could remove them. All his rich booty Round him was
scattered, and on his arm was the ring he had stolen.
"Go we," said Bele, "down thither and fight with the hideous goblin,
Two 'gainst a spirit of fire." But Thorstein half angrily answered: "One
against one is the rule of our fathers. I fight well singly." Long they
contended which first of the two the encounter should venture, Proving
the perilous journey. Bele at last took his helmet, Shaking two lots
therein. Watched by the stars Thorstein saw by their shimmer His was
the lot first appearing. A blow from his javelin of iron Cleft the huge
bolts and strong locks. He descended. Did any one question What was
revealed in the cavern, then was he silent and shuddered. Bele at first
heard strange music. It rang like the song of a goblin; Then was a

clattering noise, like the clashing of blades in a combat, Lastly a
hideous shriek,--then silence. Out staggered Thorstein, Confounded,
bewildered, all pale was his face, for with death had he battled; Yet
bore he the arm-ring a trophy. "'Twas dear bought," he often said
frowning;
"Once in my life was I frightened; 'twas when I recovered
that arm-ring." Widely renowned was that ring, and of rings was the
chief in the Northland.
Lastly the ship, called Ellide, was one of the family jewels. Viking, so
say they, returning triumphant from venturesome journeys, Sailed
along coasting near Framness. There he espied on a shipwreck,
Carelessly swinging, a sailor, sporting as 'twere with the billows. Noble
of figure, tall in his stature, joyful his visage,
Changeable too, like the
waves of the sea when they sport ill the sunshine,-- Blue was his mantle,
golden his girdle and studded with corals; Sea-green his hair, but his
beard was as white as the foam of the ocean. Viking his serpent steered
thither to rescue the unfortunate stranger,-- Took him half frozen to
Framness, and there as a guest entertained him. When by his host to
repose he was bidden, smiling he answered: "Fair sits the wind, and my
ship which you boarded, is not yet disabled; Long ere the morning I
trust she will hear me a hundred miles seaward. Thanks for thy bidding,
'twas well meant and kindly. Ah! could I only Leave thee a gift to
remind thee of me! but afar on the ocean Lieth my kingdom. Perhaps in
the morning 'twill waft thee a token." Viking next day by the sea-shore
was standing, when lo! like an eagle Madly pursuing its prey, a dragon
ship sailed into harbor.
Nowhere was visible sailor or captain, or even
a steersman; Winding 'mid rocks and through breakers, the rudder a
path sought unaided; When the firm strand it was nearing, sudden, as
ruled by a spirit, Reefed were the sails unassisted. Untouched by finger
of mortal, The anchor sped through the clear water and fastened its
barbs in the bottom. Viking gazed, speechless with wonder; the
sportive winds sang in low cadence: "AEger the rescued forgetteth no
kindness, he gives thee the dragon." Kingly the gift to behold. The
heavy curved planks of oak timber Matched not together like others,
but grew in one broad piece united. It stretched its huge form in the sea
like a dragon, its stem proudly lifted, A stately head high in the air. Its
throat with red gold was all blazing; Sprinkled its belly with yellow and

azure, and back of the rudder, Covered with scales of pure silver, its tail
lashed the waves in a circle. Bordered with red were its inky black
pinions. When all unfolding, It flew in a race with the whirlwind, and
left far behind the swift eagle. When it was filled with armed warriors,
you'd fancy you were beholding A citadel swimming the billows, or
palace o'er ocean ave flying. Widely renowned was that ship, and of
ships was the chief in the Northland.
All this and other vast treasures did Fridthjof receive from his father.
Scarce was there found in the Northland any with richer possessions,
Save were he heir of a kingdom, for of kings is the wealth always
greatest. Though from no king he descended, yet was his mind truly
royal, Courteous, noble and kind. Daily became he more famous.

Twelve gray-haired champions, valorous chieftains, sat at his table,
Thorstein's steel-breasted companions, whose brows were with scars
deeply furrowed.
Next to the warriors was seated a youth of the same
age as Fridthjof,--
Like a fresh rose 'mid the dry leaves of autumn; Bjorn was this blossom.
Grown up with Fridthjof, in days of their boyhood their blood they
commingled, Brothers becoming in good northern fashion, sworn to