Northland Heroes | Page 7

is a faithful heart."
So, full of hope, did Frithiof leave, but Ingeborg feared her gloomy brother, knowing well how he hated the noble Frithiof. To herself she said: "Never will he give me to thee, dear childhood's friend. Rather will he wed me to King Ring whom he fights. No hope do I see, yet I am glad thy heart can hope. May all the good gods follow thee."

Frithiof and Angantyr
Over the sea sailed Frithiof with his friends in the good ship Ellide to the home of the brave earl Angantyr. The old man, joyous and light-hearted, one day looked over the sea and saw the white-winged ship bringing the brave heroes.
"That is Ellide coming, and the hero with firm and steady step is Frithiof, son of Thorsten. No one in the Northland has so brave a brow and so bright a smile."
Then the sturdy Atle sprang up crying: "Now will I go and prove what truth there is in the report that Frithiof breaks all swords and never sues for peace."
When he saw Frithiof he cried: "No one comes here but he either fights or flies. If you beg for peace, I shall receive you in friendship and take you to the earl."
Frithiof replied sharply: "Before I cry for peace our good swords must be tested."
Then flashed his sword-blade, the bright Angurvadel. The men fought long and cleft each other's shields, but finally Atle's sword was broken and Frithiof's sword was king.
Then said the victor: "I do not wish to slay a swordless foe. If you wish, let us strive as yeomen, man to man, without weapons."
So they wrestled breast to breast as two bears trying their strength, or as wave breaking against wave. The firm earth trembled, and the great oaks scarce could endure the shock.
But Frithiof proved the stronger, and at length brought proud Atle to the ground. Angrily he said: "If my good sword were at my hand, through thy body would I plunge it, thou black-beard!"
"Go bring it! Who'll prevent thee?" cried the brave Atle. "Here will I lie if that will content thee. All must Valhal see; I, to-day; thou, perhaps, to-morrow!"
Then Frithiof fetched the gleaming Angurvadel, but the good sword harmed not the noble foe. Frithiof struck the sand with the blade, for he admired the courage of the brave Atle.
As friends Frithiof and Atle then entered the palace of Angantyr. Everything seemed new and beautiful to Frithiof. Instead of planks well matched, leather embroidered in gold covered the walls. No rough hearthstone littered the centre of the hall, but a marble fireplace was built up against the side. In the windows were fitted panes of glass, and a key secured the door.
Here were no wooden torches as light of the feast, but waxen candles gleamed brightly in their silver sconces. The roasted stag gracing the table had gold bands on his hoofs, and flowers wreathed his horns.
Three steps the earl descended, saying to Frithiof: "Come sit by me, brave son of Thorsten."
Then was Thorsten's praise chanted by the singers, and his brave deeds were sung in the old Norse tongue.
The earl asked much about his friends of long ago. Frithiof answered wisely and kindly, and all the warriors cheered him loudly. Soon he spoke of the errand that brought him from his own land. Angantyr listened kindly but replied:
"I never paid tribute to Bele and shall not to his sons. If they wish to take it, let them meet us on the strand and see who is best. But Thorsten was my friend," continued the earl, and beckoned to his daughter, who sat near him.
The beautiful maid hastened to her room and brought back a green silk purse all deftly wrought. The tassels were made of gold and the clasps shone with rubies.
Angantyr took the treasure and filled it with gold. Giving it to Frithiof, he said: "This welcome gift is a tribute to you, my friend, but not to King Helge. And now I beg you, Frithiof, to pass the long winter hours with us, your friends and the friends of your fathers."

The Return
When lovely spring with her blue skies came again, Frithiof left his kind host Angantyr and sailed over the deep billows. Full of joy is one who has travelled far when his bark turns homeward. Memory shows the smoke from his mother's hearth-fire and the fountain where his childish feet played.
Six days Frithiof sailed, and on the seventh he saw his loved land. He saluted the cliffs and the forest dancing in the sunlight, but thought of Ingeborg. As Ellide rounded the headland, Frithiof stood at the prow, shading his eyes from the sun and looking for his old home, loved Framness.
But he looked in vain! Of the stately hall ashes alone remained. Sadly did the hero thread