Unsegmented source body · Part 5

When he came in Grettir was awake also, and he asked how fared the boat.

"She has broken from her mooring," answered Redbeard, "and has been dashed to bits on the rocks."

Then Grettir jumped up, and taking his weapons ran out to the end of the spit of land on which his hut was built, and saw how the nets were drifting in the waves and were entangled with the oars.

"Jump in, swim out, and bring them to shore," said he to Redbeard. The man shook his head and answered:

"I can do anything save swim. I have not held back from any other work you have set me, but swim I cannot."

Then Grettir laid his weapons down by the waterside and prepared to jump in. But he mistrusted Redbeard, so he said, "I will get in the nets, as you cannot; but I trust you will not deal treacherously by me."

Redbeard answered, "I should be a base fellow and unworthy to live if I were false to you now--after you have housed me so long."

Then Grettir put off his clothes, and went into the water, and swam out to the nets.

He swept them up together and brought them towards the land, and cast them up on the bank; but the moment he attempted to land Redbeard caught up the short sword, drew it hastily and ran at Grettir and smote at him, just as he was heaving himself up out of the water. The blade would have cut into his neck, or between his shoulder-blades, had not Grettir instantly let go, and fallen backwards into the water and sunk like a stone. Sinking thus headlong he reached the bottom, and instead of rising to the surface again he clung to the rocks under water, and groped his way along as close as he could to the bank, so that Redbeard might not see him till he had reached the back of the creek and got aland.

Now, Redbeard stood at the end of the promontory, looking into the water, much puzzled. He had not cut Grettir with the sword, and yet Grettir was gone down, and did not rise. He thought he must have struck his head against a stone, and so have sunk, and he looked out into the water wondering where and when he would rise. Meanwhile Grettir had come ashore behind him and was approaching stealthily. Redbeard was unaware of his danger till Grettir had his arms about him, had heaved him over his head and dashed him down on the rocks, so that his skull was broken. After that Grettir resolved not to take another outlaw into his house, though he could hardly endure to be alone.

Thorir of Garth did not hear of the death of Redbeard till next summer at the great assize; and then he was so angry, and so resolved to make an end of Grettir, that he collected a body of resolute men, his servants and others whom he hired for the purpose, to the number of nearly eighty, to sweep the Eagle Lake Heath and take and kill Grettir.

One day, when Grettir was out on the moor, he saw a large body of armed men riding towards the lake. He had time to fly to a hill that rises at a little distance, where there is a rift in the rock that traverses the top of the hill. When I read the account in the saga I could not quite understand what follows, but no sooner was I on the spot than all appeared quite clear. One could see, at once, that Grettir, taken by surprise, would run to this very spot and no other. It was the nearest available place of vantage, with stone and crag. The situation was not the best that might have been chosen, as it left Grettir's back unprotected; however, he had no time to seek a better.

[Illustration: GRETTIR ATTACKED IN THE RIFT BY THORIR'S PARTY.]

Thorir came with his men to the bottom of the hill, and shouted to Grettir and taunted him.

Grettir replied, "Though you may have put the spoon to your lips you have not swallowed the broth."

Then Thorir egged on his men to go up the slope at Grettir, but this was not easy. It was steep, and the rocks were close on either side so that Grettir could not be surrounded. Only one man could get at him from before at once. Several attempts were made, but all failed; some of the assailants were killed, some wounded. Then Thorir broke up his party into two, and sent one detachment round to the back of the rocks, to fall on Grettir from behind. Grettir saw the manoeuvre, and did not see how to meet it. All he could do would be to sell his life dearly. He could not hold out long when assailed simultaneously from before and behind.

Thorir bade the attack slacken till he thought those sent to the rear would be ready, and then he ordered a grand, and, as he believed, a combined assault. Grettir fought with desperation, expecting every moment to be cut down from behind, but to his surprise and that of Thorir he was left unmolested in the rear.

Thorir called off his men, and went round the hill to inquire why the attack from behind had not taken place. To his amazement he came on a discomfited party bleeding, faint, and baffled, and to find that twelve men had fallen in it.[#]

[#] At the time, or rather shortly after I had been on the spot, I wrote, "There is a nook like a sentry-box in the side of the cleft, and it was in this that Hallmund ensconced himself, so that he could hew down anyone who attempted to pass through this cleft to get at Grettir's back, whilst remaining himself screened from observation. I could not understand the saga account before I saw the spot, and how it was that those attacking Grettir from behind did not see Hallmund. The sight of the place made all plain."

Then he bade a retreat. "Oft," he said, "have I heard that Grettir is a man of marvel for prowess, but I never knew before that he was a wizard, and able to kill as many at his back as he does in front of him."

When he numbered his men, Thorir found that he had lost eighteen. Then he and his retinue rode away, and they carried on them many and grievous wounds.

Now Grettir was no less perplexed with the event than was Thorir, and when the latter had withdrawn he went through the rift in the rocks to see why he had not been fallen on from the rear,--and he lighted on a tall strong man leaning against the rocks, sore wounded.

Grettir asked his name, and the tall man replied that he was Hallmund.

"Do you remember meeting me on the heath one day?" asked the wounded man, "when you tried to stop my horse, and I pulled the reins through your hands so as to skin the palms'? Then I promised if I had the chance to back you up."

"Indeed," said Grettir, much moved, "I remember that right well, and now I thank you with all my heart, for this day you have saved my life."

Then Hallmund said, "You must now come with me, for time must drag with you solitary here on the heath."

Grettir said he was glad to accept the offer; so they went together south to the Ball-jokull, and there Hallmund had a great cave, and his daughter, a big muscular girl, lived there with him; there the girl applied plasters to the wounds of her father and healed him.

Grettir remained with them in the cave all the ensuing summer. But when summer came to an end, he wearied of being so long in the desert, and longed to see and be with his fellow-men in inhabited parts once more; so he bade farewell to Hallmund, and went away to the west to Hit-dale that opens on the Marshland, through which six or seven large rivers flow. Here he had a friend named Biorn living at Holm.

*CHAPTER XXVIII.*

*ON THE FELL.*

_The Hollow of Fairwood Fell--Above the Shale Slide--The Outlaw's Lair--The Boaster--A Dandified Warrior--Hunter and Hunted--A Skin-dressing--Sadder and Wiser_

Biorn when asked by Grettir to give him shelter declined to do so, not that the will was lacking, but that he had not the power to protect him. "You have made," he said, "enemies on all sides, and if I were to take you under my roof all your enemies would become mine also, and I would be involved in endless and bitter quarrels. I cannot give you direct assistance and shelter, but indirectly I will do what I can for you. There is a long hill, called Fairwood Fell, that runs in front of my house on the other side of the river, and ends just above the marshes. Now, in one place there is a steep shale slide, and above this is a hollow through the mountain, that might very well be made into a dry and comfortable place of abode. From the entrance every one who passes along the highway, all who come across the marshes, can be seen. I can supply you with a few necessaries to fit the place up, but when there you must shift for yourself. I must not risk too much by supporting you."

Grettir consented to this. So he went up to Fairwood Fell and built up the cave, and hung gray wadmal before the entrance, so that no one below could notice that there was anything peculiar or anyone living there. In this eagle's nest among the rocks Grettir spent the time from the autumn of 1022 to the spring of 1024, that is, two winters. Whatever fuel he wanted, all he had to eat, everything he wanted, had to be carried up this slippery and steep ascent by him. Down the shale slide he came when short of provisions, and went over the marshes to this or that farm and demanded or carried off, sometimes a sheep, sometimes curds, dried fish, in a word what he required; and a very great nuisance the men of the district found him. Heartily did they wish they were rid of him, yet they could not drive him from his place of abode, for it was so difficult of access and so easy of defence.

Now, some years ago, in the summer of 1862, the year after I was in Iceland, a very similar lair which Grettir inhabited a little later in the east of Iceland was explored by an Icelandic farmer. This is his description of it: "The lair stands in the lower part of a slip of stones beneath some sheer rocks. It is built up of stones, straight as a line 4-3/4 ells long and 10 inches wide, and is within the walls 7/8 of an ell deep. Half of it is roofed over with flat stones, small thin splinters of stone are wedged in between these to fill up the joints, and these are so firmly fixed that they could not be removed without tools. One stone in the south wall is so large that it requires six men to move it. The north wall is beginning to give way. On the outside the walls are overgrown with black lichen and gray moss."

Something like this was the den of Grettir on the Fairwood Fell, but it was less built up, as he had the natural rock for two of the sides and for the roof.

Whilst Grettir was there, there came a ship into harbour, in which was a man named Gisli, a merchant, very fond of wearing smart clothes, and an inordinately vain man. He heard the farmers talking about Grettir, and what a vexation it was to them to have him in their neighbourhood.

"Don't talk to me about Grettir," said Gisli; "I've had battles with harder men than he. I hope he may came in my way, that I may dress his skin for him."

The farmer to whom he said this shook his head. "You don't know of whom you are speaking. If you were to kill him you would be well off,--six marks of silver were set on his head, and Thorir of Garth has added three more, so that there stand on him nine marks of silver."

"All things can be done for money," said Gisli; "and as I am a merchant I'll see to it. And when we meet--I'll dress his skin for him."

The farmer said it would be well not to talk about the matter. Gisli agreed. "I will abide this winter in Snowfell-ness," he said. "If his lair is on my road thither I'll look out for him, and dress his skin as I go along."

Now, whether he talked in spite of the caution given him, or whether some one overheard what he said, who was a friend of Biorn of Holm, is uncertain. Any how Gisli's threat reached the ears of Biorn, who at once warned Grettir to be on his guard against the merchant.

"If he comes your way," said Biorn, "teach him a lesson; but don't kill him."

"No," said Grettir with a grim smile, "I'll merely dress his skin for him."

Now it happened one day that Grettir was looking out of the entrance to his lair, when he saw a man with two attendants riding along the highway. His kirtle was of scarlet, and his helmet and shield flashed in the sun. Then it occurred to him that this must be the dandified Gisli, of whom he had heard, so he came running down the shale descent to the road. He reached the man, and at once he went to his horse, clapped his hand on a bundle of clothes behind the saddle, and said, "This I am going to take."

"Nay, not so," answered Gisli, for it was he. "You do not know whom you are addressing."

"Nor do I care," said Grettir. "I have little respect for persons. I am in poor and lowly condition myself, so low that I am driven to be a highway robber."

Then Gisli drew his sword, and called to his men to attack Grettir, who gave way a little before them. But he soon saw that Gisli kept behind his servants, and never risked himself where the blows fell; so Grettir put the two churls aside with well-dealt strokes, and went direct upon the merchant, who, seeing that he was menaced, turned and took to his heels. Grettir pursued him, and Gisli in his fear cast aside his shield, then, a little further, threw away his helmet, and so as he ran he cast away one thing after another that he had with him. There was a heavy purse of silver at his girdle. This encumbered him, and as he ran he unbuckled his belt and dropped it and the purse with it. Grettir did not purposely come up with him; he could have outstripped him had he willed, but he let the fellow run a couple of horse lengths before him. The end of the Fell is above an old lava bed that has flowed from a crater called Eldborg or the Castle of Fire, and like an old ruined castle it looks. Gisli ran over this lava bed, jumping the cracks, then dived through a wood of birch that intervened between the lava and the river Haf. The stream was swollen with ice, and ill to ford. Gisli halted hesitating before plunging in, and that allowed Grettir to run in on him, seize him and throw him down.

"Are you the Gisli who were so eager to meet Grettir Asmund's son?" asked the outlaw.

"I have had enough of him," gasped the fallen man. "Keep my saddle-bags and what I have thrown away, and let me go free."

"Hardly yet," said Grettir grimly. "I think something was said about skin-dressing, that is not to be overlooked."

Then Grettir drew him back to the wood, took a good handful of birch rods, pulled Gisli's clothes up over his head, and laid the twigs against his back in none of the gentlest fashion. Gisli danced and skipped about, but Grettir had him by his garments twisted about his head and neck, and continued to flog till the poor fellow threw himself down on the ground screaming. Then Grettir let go, and went quietly back to his lair, picking up as he went the purse and the belt, the shield, casque, and whatever else Gisli had thrown away, also he had the contents of his saddle-bags.

Gisli never came back to Fairwood Fell to ask for them. When he got on his legs he ran up the river to where it was not so dangerous, swam it, and reached a farmhouse, where he entreated to be taken in. There he lay a week with his body swollen and striped; after which he went home, and much was he laughed at for his adventure with Grettir.

*CHAPTER XXIX.*

*THE FIGHT ON THE RIVER.*

_Angry Farmers--A Large Band of Men--The Marshmen are Driven Back--The Attacking Party Reinforced--Fighting in Desperation--Wearied but Unwounded--The Song of Victory_

Now, whilst Grettir was on Fairwood Fell, favoured by Biorn of Hit-dale, his presence after a while became unendurable to the bonders who lived in the marshes. He had been for two winters in his den on the hill, and when they saw that he intended to remain there a third winter, and rob them of sheep and whatever he needed, then they took counsel together how they might rid themselves of the annoyance.

One day in the winter of 1023, Grettir came down from his place of vantage, and went over the marshes to a farm called Acres, and drove away from it two bullocks fit for slaughtering, and several sheep, and he had got on with them some way over the marshes, on his way to his lair, before the farmer at Acres was aware of his loss; he had taken six wethers beside from another farm named Brookbend. This angered the farmers greatly, and they sent a message to the chief man of the district, Thord at Hitness, and urged him to waylay Grettir before he could reach his den. Thord shrank from doing anything; however, they pressed him so much that at last he consented to let his son Arnor go with them. Then messengers were sent throughout all the country side, to every farmer who was concerned. And it was so planned that two bodies of men should march to the taking of Grettir, one on the right, the other on the left bank of the Hit River, so as to take him for certain.

Grettir was soon aware that the country was roused. He was not alone, he had two men with him--one the son of the farmer at Fairwood Fell, with whom he was on good terms, the other a farm-servant. They advised him to desert the cattle and sheep and run for it, cross the river and take refuge in his place of vantage; but this Grettir was too proud to do.

Presently he could see coming on behind him a large band of men, about twenty in all, under Thorarin of Acres and Thorfin of Brookbend. Now, as these were pursuing him over the marshes, up the opposite side of the river came Arnor, the son of Thord of Hitness, and with him a farmer named Biarni of Jorvi.

Grettir managed to reach the river before his enemies came up with him, and he had also time to secure a place of vantage. This was a ness of rock that ran out into the river, or round which the river swept, so that he was protected by the water on all sides but one. Grettir said to the two men with him, that they must guard his back, see that none came up the sides in his rear, and then he took his short-sword in both his hands, planted his feet wide apart on the rock, and prepared to sell his life dear.

The party headed by Thorarin of Acres and Thorfin of Brookbend came up, twenty in all,--but more were coming, for Thorarin had begun the pursuit before all the farmers were collected, and he knew that a body of some twenty or thirty more would arrive before long. Thorarin himself was an old man, and he did not enter into the fray, but urged on his men.

The fight was hard. Grettir was not easily reached where he stood, and he smote at all who approached. Some of the Marshmen fell, and several were wounded. In vain did they attempt to dislodge him by combined rushes, he drove them over the edge into the water, or cut them down with his sword. At last his arm was weary, and he called to the farmer's son to step into his place. He did so, and held the ground valiantly, whilst Grettir rested. Then the party drew back, discomfited. At that moment up came the fresh body of men under Thrand, the brother of Thorarin of Acres, and Stonewolf of Lavadale. These egged on their men eagerly, and they thought they would obtain an easy victory, for Grettir had been fighting for some time, and was weary.

Then Thorarin of Acres called out and advised delay.

"For," said he, "the third party of men under Arnor and Biarni of Jorvi have not come up on the other side of the river."

This piece of advice was rejected by the newcomers. What did they want with more men? They were a large party, fresh and untired, and Grettir had but two men with him, and they were wearied with fighting. So the signal was given for the onslaught.

Then Grettir saw that he must either jump into the river, swim across, and desert the sheep and bullocks he had driven there, or use almost superhuman exertions to defend himself.

His position was, indeed, desperate; for, even if he did hold his own against this second body of men, a third was on its way up the other bank of the river to intercept him on his way up to the Fell. For one moment he hesitated, and then was resolved. No, he would not run. He would die there, and die only after having strewn the ground with his foes. Foremost among his assailants was Stonewolf of Lavadale, and Grettir made a sudden rush at him, and with a tremendous stroke of his sword he clove his head down to the shoulders. Thrand, who sprang forward to avenge him, Grettir struck on the thigh, and the blow took off all the muscle, and he fell, crippled for life. Then Grettir fell back to his place of safety, and dared others to come on. They sprang out on the neck of rock, but would not meet his weapon, one after another fell or was beaten back.

Then Thorarin cried out, and bade all draw off.

"The longer ye fight," said he, "the worse ye fare. He picks out what men among you he chooses."

The party withdrew, and there were ten men fallen, and five had received mortal wounds, or were crippled; and hardly one of the two parties was without some hurt or other.

Grettir, moreover, was marvellously wearied, but had received no wounds to speak of.

Now, hardly had the men withdrawn, carrying their dead and wounded, than up came the third detachment under Arnor and Biarni, on the other side of the river. There can be no question but that, had they crossed and fallen on Grettir, he could not have defended himself longer, so overcome was he with weariness; but Arnor knew that his father had entered on the matter reluctantly, and he was discouraged by the ill-success of the other companies. Consequently, he neither waded through the river at the ford, a little higher, nor did he maintain his ground and cut off Grettir's retreat. Instead, he withdrew with all his men, and left Grettir to recover his strength, and cross and escape to the Fell. This conduct of Arnor provoked much comment; and he was accused of cowardice, an accusation that clung to him through life. Even his father rebuked him, for the father saw what discredit he had brought upon himself.

The point on the river Hit where this affray took place is still shown; and is called Grettir's-point to this day.

When the fight was over Grettir and the two men went to the Fell, and as they passed the farm the farmer's daughter came out of the door, and asked for tidings.

Then Grettir sang:--

"Brewer of strong barley-corn, Pourer forth of drinking-horn, Lo! to-day the Stonewolf fell, Ne'er again his head be well. Many more have got their bane, Many in their blood lie slain; Little life has Thorgils now, After that bone-breaking blow. Eight upon the river's bank In their gore expiring sank."

*CHAPTER XXX.*

*A MYSTERIOUS VALE.*

_The Dome of Snow--Cold Dale--A Fair Valley--The Mottled Ewe--With Thorir and his Daughters--The Stone on Broad-shield--Thorir's Cave_

In the spring of 1024 Grettir went away from Fairwood Fell; for he had been there so long, and had preyed for such a time on the bonders of the marshes, that he himself saw that it would be best for him to remove into quite another part of the island. So he visited his friend Hallmund once more, under the ice of Ball-jokull, and Hallmund advised him where to go. He could not give him hospitality himself that winter, because his stock of goods was run so short that it would hardly suffice for his daughter and himself; but he told him of a valley unknown to anyone, save a friend of his called Thorir and himself. And he informed him how it was to be reached.

Now, as already said, there are passes in Iceland between the several blocks of ice mountains, and such a pass exists between Goatland-jokull and a curious domed snowy mountain called Ok. The pass is called the Cold Dale, because it lies for many hours ride between ice mountains, and under the precipitous Goatland-jokull, whose rocks are crowned with green ice that falls over incessantly in great avalanches. It is seven hours' ride from one blade of grass to another through that dale. I went through it on midsummer-day, and saw the bones of horses lying about that had died unable to get through; perhaps becoming lame or exhausted on the way.

Half through this long trough of the Cold Dale stands up a buttress of rock, or rather a sort of ness, projecting from Goatland-jokull, so precipitous that hardly any snow rests on it, and this is called the Half-way Fell.

Now, Hallmund told Grettir he must go through the Cold Dale till he reached the Half-way Fell, and there he must strike up over the snow and glaciers of Goatland-jokull, due south, and he would all at once drop into a valley known to few.

So Grettir went up the moor till he struck the White River, that flowed out of the Eagle Lakes he knew so well, and under the cliffs and icy crown of Erick's-jokull, then he climbed over broken trachyte rocks for several hundreds of feet, till he found himself in the Cold Dale, and along that he trudged till he had reached Half-way Fell, standing up like a wall as though to stop the pass. There he turned to the left, and as at this point Goatland is no longer precipitous, but slopes in a series of steps to the Cold Dale, he climbed up through the snow, a long and tedious ascent, till he stood on the neck of the mountain, and there he saw that the snow slopes fell away rapidly to the south, and he descended and soon beheld before him a valley in which were a great many boiling springs that threw up clouds of steam, and he saw also, what greatly pleased him, that there was rich and abundant grass in this valley. This is what the saga says: "The dale was long and somewhat narrow, locked up by glaciers all round, in such a manner that the ice walls overhung the dale. He scrambled down into it, as best he could, and there he saw fair hillsides grass-grown and set with bushes. Hot springs were there, and it appeared to him that it was the earth-fires which prevented the ice walls from closing in on the valley. A little river ran down the dale, with level banks. The sun rarely shone into the valley; but the number of sheep there could hardly be reckoned, they were so many; and nowhere had he seen any so fat and in such good condition."

Grettir did not see Thorir, Hallmund's friend, at first; so he built himself a hut of such wood as he could get, and with turf. He killed the sheep he wanted, and found that there was more meat on one of them than on two elsewhere.

The Saga says:--

"There was one ewe there, brown mottled, with a lamb, and she was a beauty. Grettir killed the lamb, and took three stone of suet off it, the meat was some of the best he had ever eaten. But when the mottled ewe missed her lamb, she went up on Grettir's hut every night, and bleated so plaintively as to trouble his sleep, and made Grettir quite troubled that he had killed her lamb."

Now Grettir noticed that at evening the sheep ran in one direction, and once or twice he heard a call; so he went after the sheep one evening, and was led by them to the hut where Thorir dwelt. He was a strange man, who had spent so many years away from the society of his fellow-men as not to care any more to meet them, so he did not welcome Grettir very warmly. However he had three daughters, and they were glad to have someone to talk to, and as the winter crept on Thorir himself became more amiable, and so the winter did not pass as drearily as Grettir had feared it would. He sang his songs and related stories, and the party played draughts with knuckle-bones of sheep.

When spring came, however, he was fain to go; and he did not leave by the way he came, but followed the little river, and it led him out between rock and glaciers into a piece of desert, covered with lava beds that have poured out of a volcano, or rather two that stand opposite this entrance to Thorir's valley. These two volcanoes are quite unlike each other, though side by side, one, called Hlothu-fell has upright walls, like Erick's-jokull, and a crater filled up and brimming over with ice; but the other Skialdbreith, or the Broad-shield, is like a conical round silver shield laid on the ground. The entrance to Thorir's Dale is completely hidden by a round snowy mountain that blocks it, and then a second snowy mountain stands further out in front of the opening, so that not a sign of any valley can be seen from anywhere.

So difficult did Grettir think it would be to find it, that he ascended on Broad-shield and set up a stone there with a hole in it, so that anyone looking through this hole would see directly into the narrow entrance of Thorir's Dale. This stone still stands where Grettir had placed it; but has sunk on one side, so that by looking through the hole the eye is no longer directed to the entrance.

No one had ever visited Thorir's Dale since Grettir left it till the year 1654, when it was explored by two Icelandic clergymen, and an account of their expedition in Icelandic is to be found in the British Museum.[#] The valley as far as I know has not been explored since. It is marked on the map of Iceland, but apparently from the description left by the two clergymen, not from any visit made to it by the map-maker.

[#] I have given a translation of it in my _Curiosities of Olden Times_, London, Hayes, 1869.

When the two men visited the valley they went to it in the same way as did Grettir. They found no hot springs, and the valley was utterly barren; but then they had no time to descend it, they only looked down on it from above. They found the cave with a door, and a window to it, which was probably the habitation of Thorir and his daughters.

*CHAPTER XXXI.*

*THE DEATH OF HALLMUND.*

_Grim's Fish Disappear--The Thief Wounded and Tracked--Death of Hallmund_

Now, there was a man called Grim, who was an outlaw for his ill-deeds, and he thought that as Grettir no longer abode in his hut on the Eagle Lake, he might go there and occupy it. This did not please Hallmund, for Grettir had left him his nets, and he was wont to fish in the lake.

Grim had supplied himself with nets, and he one day caught a hundred char, large red-fleshed fish, delicious eating; so he piled them up outside his hut. Next morning to his great surprise all his char had disappeared. Then he went fishing again, and caught even more fish, and he brought them to land, and heaped them up as before.

Next morning they also had disappeared.

He could not understand it; so he fished again, and had on this occasion extraordinary luck: he must have netted nearly three hundred fish. He brought them home, and put them in the same place as before; but he did not go to sleep this time: he remained within, and watched his store through a peep-hole in the door.

During the night he heard someone who trod heavily coming along the ness, and then he saw a man picking up his fish, and putting them into a basket he had on his back. Grim watched till he had filled the basket, which he now heaved upon his shoulders. Instantly Grim threw open the door, rushed out, and whilst the man was still stooping adjusting his load, he swung up a very sharp axe he held, holding it in both hands, and smote at the man's neck. The axe hit the basket, and that somewhat broke its force, but it glanced aside and sank into the shoulder. Then the man started aside, and set off running with the basket to the south, skirting a lava field that had flowed out of Erick's-jokull, and which now goes by the name of Hallmund's Lava-bed.

Grim ran after him, and saw that he was making for Ball-jokull; but the man, who was of great size and strength, though wounded and losing blood, ran on, and did not stay till he reached a cave in the face of the cliff, above which was the ice, and with long icicles hanging over the front. Into this he entered. There was a fire burning inside, and a young woman sitting by it.

Grim heard her welcome the man, and call him her father, and name him Hallmund. He cast his basket of fish down, and groaned aloud.

Then the girl saw that blood was flowing from him, and she asked him what had happened.

Hallmund told what had befallen him, and said that he was wounded to the death, and that he trusted Grettir would avenge him, for he had no other friend to do so.

After that Hallmund began a lay, and sang the history of his life, the achievements he had wrought, and he sang on till his breath failed, and either he was unable to finish his lay, or Grim could not remember all of it. A good deal, however, of Hallmund's death-song has been retained and is given in the saga.

But Hallmund's hope or expectation that Grettir would avenge him was disappointed, for Grim managed to get away from Iceland, and did not return to it again during the lifetime of Grettir.

*CHAPTER XXXII.*

*OF ANOTHER ATTEMPT AGAINST GRETTIR.*

_Thorir raises a Party against Grettir--Grettir plays the Herdsman--A Daring Trick--Thorir a Laughing-Stock_

Now, during the summer, tidings came to Thorir of Garth that Grettir was somewhere about on Reekheath in the north-east. There was his lair which was examined a few years ago, and which remains in tolerable condition, as already mentioned when his lair at Fairwood Fell was described. Now, Thorir of Garth, when he got this tidings was resolved to make another attempt to kill him; and no wonder, for with singular audacity Grettir had come into his neighbourhood. Grettir no doubt thought that he had preyed long enough on men who had not harmed him, and that now he would prey on the goods and cattle of the man who had made an outlaw of him, and who pursued him with such remorseless hostility. Thorir gathered a number of men together and went in pursuit of Grettir. Grettir was not at that time in his den but out on the moor, and he was near a mountain-dairy that stood back somewhat from the wayside, and there was another man with him, when they spied the party of Thorir, all armed, coming along. They had not been observed, so they hastily led their horses into the shed attached to the dairy, and concealed themselves. Thorir came along, went to the dairy, looked about to see if anyone were there who could inform him if Grettir had been seen, noticed only a couple of horses tied up, but supposed they belonged to the farmer whose summer dairy this was, and, without looking further, went on.

As soon as Thorir and his band had gone out of sight, Grettir crept from his place of hiding, and said to his companion:

"It is a pity they should have come such a ride to see me, and should be disappointed. You watch the horses, and I will go on and have a word with them."

"You surely will not be so rash?" exclaimed the other man.

"I cannot let them come all this way without exchanging words with me," said Grettir, and leaving the horses under the care of his comrade, he strode away over the moor to a place where he was sure he could be observed. Now, Grettir had a slouched hat on and a long staff in his hand, and at the dairy he had found some clothes belonging to the herdsman usually there, and these he had put on.

Directly Thorir and his party saw a man with a staff striding about on the moor they rode to him. None of them knew Grettir's face, for, indeed, they had not been given the chance. So they thought this great rough man was the herdsman, and they asked him if he had seen the outlaw Grettir.

"What sort of man is he?" asked Grettir. "Is he armed?"

"Armed indeed is he, with a casque on his head, a long sword, and also a short one in his girdle."

"Is he riding?"

"Most certainly he is."

"Then," said Grettir, "you had better get you along after him due south; he has gone that way not so long agone."

When they heard this Thorir and his party struck spurs into their horses, put them into a gallop, and away they went as hard as they could in the direction indicated. Now, Grettir knew the country very well, and he was well aware that south of where he stood were impassable bogs. Thorir and his fellows were too eager in pursuit to attend to the nature of the ground over which they rode; besides, they thought that if Grettir had ridden that way they could ride it as well. They were speedily mistaken, for in they floundered into a bottomless morass; some of the horses were in to their saddles; the men got off and got out with difficulty, and they had much ado to get their horses out at all. Indeed, some were wallowing there more than half the day. Many curses were heaped on the churl who had befooled them, but they could not find him when the went after him to chastise him.

Grettir hastened back to the dairy, mounted his horse, and rode to Garth itself, whilst the master was floundering in the bog. As he came to the farm he saw a tall, well-dressed girl by the door, and he asked who she was. He was told this was Thorir's daughter. Then Grettir sang a stave to her, the meaning of which was that he who came there was the man whom Thorir was vainly pursuing.

Much laughter was occasioned by this failure of Thorir to take Grettir when he was in his own neighbourhood, and by his being so deceived and befooled by Grettir when he had him in his power.

*CHAPTER XXXIII.*

*AT SANDHEAPS.*

_A Deadly Enemy--In the Service of Steinvor--The Way to Church--Crossing the Quivering Flood--The Priest's Caution--A Weird Tale--The Old Hag--The Stream-churl--Steinvor's Husband's Death--The Foundation of the Story--The Troll-woman of Grettir--The Basaltic Troll-wife--The Search under Goda-foss--Grettir's Dive--The Fight with the Stream-churl--Runes of the Fight--A Bag of Bones_

The summer was passing away, and Grettir could not remain without shelter through the winter; so he considered what was best to be done. He could not ask any farmer in the north-east to shelter him, because they were all afraid of Thorir of Garth, who would have pursued with implacable animosity the man who befriended and housed the outlaw. Moreover, Thorir had his spies everywhere, and Grettir found he had to shift quarters repeatedly to escape his deadly enemy.

Now, when the first snows fell Grettir sent his man away with his horses across country to Biarg, and he went further away from where Thorir was; but never stayed long anywhere, nor gave his real name. He had no relatives in this part of the island, and no friends.

Now, a little before Yule--that is Christmas--he came to a farm called Sandheaps, on that river which is called the Quivering Flood. This farm belonged to a widow woman called Steinvor, who had recently lost her husband.

Grettir came and offered his services; he said his name was Guest, that he was out of work, and that he had come there because he heard she was short of hands.

Steinvor looked at him, and saw that he was a very powerfully-built man, and that there was a certain dignity and nobility in his face; so she accepted him, against the opinion of the rest in the house, who were frightened at the appearance of Grettir, and did not know what to make of him, whether he were an ordinary human being or a wild man, half mountain-goblin or troll.

It came to pass on Christmas-eve that the widow Steinvor was very desirous to go to church, but the church was on the further side of the river, and there was no bridge.

Grettir heard Steinvor lament that she could not go to church, so he said bluntly: "You can go. I will attend you and see you over the water."

Then she made ready for worship, and took her little daughter with her. Now, at times the river froze hard across, and then it was possible to cross on the ice. At other times it might be traversed at a ford. But when Grettir came to the side of the Quivering Flood, it was plain to him that by the ice the water could not be crossed. For there had been a rapid thaw, and now the river was overflowed and very full of water; and, moreover, it was rolling down great masses of ice.

When Steinvor saw the condition of the river, she said, "There is plainly no way across for horse or man."

"I suppose there is a ford somewhere," said Grettir.

"Yes," answered Steinvor, "there is a ford at this place; but I do not see how it is to be traversed."

"I will carry you across," said Grettir.

"Carry over the little maiden first," said the widow. "She is the lightest."

"I don't care about making two journeys when one will suffice," answered Grettir. "Come, jump up; I will carry you in my arms."

[Illustration: FORDING THE QUIVERING FLOOD.]

The widow crossed herself, and said, "That will never do. How can you manage such a burden?"

But without more ado Grettir caught up Steinvor on his arm, and then he picked up the little girl and set her on her mother's lap, and strode into the water; they were on his left arm, but he kept the right free. They were so frightened that they durst not cry out. He waded on in the river, and the water foamed up to his breast; and then he saw a great ice-floe coming bearing down upon him. He put out his right hand, gave the mass of ice a thrust, and it was whirled past them by the current. Then he waded further, and the water washed about his shoulders, and that was the deepest point. After that the river shallowed, and he bore the mother and child safely to the shore and set them down.

Now Grettir turned to go back, and he took up a great stone and set it on his head, and so waded back. If he had tried to go through the water without a stone he would have been washed away; but the great stone on his head enabled him to stand firm and resist the current of the water. Those who have not been through an Icelandic river can hardly imagine the intensity of the cold. I have ridden through these rivers, my horse swimming under me, and when I reached the further side have thrown myself off and lain on the sand for a quarter of an hour before I could recover from the numbness caused by the deadly cold; for some of these rivers are as broad as the Thames at London Bridge, and the water is milky because full of undissolved snow.

When Steinvor reached the church every one was astonished to see her, and asked how she had managed to get across the Quivering Flood. But when the priest heard the story, he called Steinvor aside, and said:

"Mind and do not say too much about your new man; do not talk about his strength, and set folk a-wondering who he may be. I have my own opinion, and I think you will do well to house him, and say nothing to anyone about his being in any way remarkable."

And now there comes into the saga of Grettir a story which is certainly untrue, but how it comes in can be made out pretty easily.

The real truth was, as the saga writer confesses, that Grettir remained hidden at Sandheaps all that winter, and no one in the country round knew that he was there. But then, the saga writer did not feel satisfied with such a dull winter, in which nothing happened; so, to fill out his story and say something interesting, he worked into his history a wonderful tale. The story, which I tell in my own words, is this:--

*The Story of the Stream-Troll*

There is on the Quivering Flood some miles below Sandheaps a mighty foss, or waterfall. The whole river pours over a ledge in a thundering, magnificent cascade. The stream in the middle is broken by an island. You can hear the roar of the falling water for a long way around, and see the spray thrown up from the fall like a cloud or column of steam rising high into the air. This waterfall is called Goda-foss, and was long supposed to be the finest in the island; but there is another, which I was the first to see, on the Jokull-river, called Detti-foss, which is infinitely finer, but which is in a region of utter desert of sand and volcanic crater, many miles from any human habitation.

It happens that there is a curious black lava rock standing near the river, higher up than the fall, which bears a quaint resemblance to an old woman, and this stone is called The Old Hag; and the story goes that it is a troll-woman turned to stone.

Now, you must know that throughout Norway and Iceland, and, indeed, wherever the Scandinavian race is found, a superstition exists that every river has its spirit, that lives in the river; and it was held that these river-spirits demanded a sacrifice of a human life, at least once a year. If a sacrifice were not given to them, then they took some man or woman, when crossing the water, and carried the victim away. And in heathen times there can be no doubt whatever that human sacrifices were offered to every river; generally an evildoer or a prisoner was thrown in and drowned, to propitiate the Stream-churl, as he was called, so that he should not snap at and carry off other and more valuable lives. Wherever there was a cataract, there the Stream-churl was believed to live, hidden away behind the curtain of falling water. If the stream was small, then this spirit or demon was small; if, however, it were a mighty river, then the spirit was a great troll or giant. Even to this day in Iceland and Norway, the ignorant and superstitious believe that there are these Stream-churls, and tell stories about them, and cannot but suspect that, when anyone is drowned, it is the Stream-churl exacting his toll.

Now, it is quite certain that Steinvor, although she was a Christian, believed in there being a great Stream-churl living under Goda-foss; and as she had lost her husband and one of her servants who had been drowned in the Quivering Flood, she held that they had been carried off by the Troll of the waterfall.

There had been, as it happened, something mysterious about the death of Steinvor's husband. Two years before Grettir came to Sandheaps, on Christmas-eve, he had disappeared. She had gone off to see some friends at a distance, and when she returned home next day she heard that her husband had not been seen--he was gone, and not a trace of him remained. It occurred to her that in all probability he had gone across the river to church, and had been carried off by the river--that is, by the Stream-churl. But she could be certain of nothing, and she was greatly distressed because she could not give his body burial. A year passed and not a word about her husband could she hear. His body had not be found anywhere washed up by the river, supposing he had been drowned.

Next year she lost one of her men-servants in the same way. He vanished, and none knew how or whither he had gone. If he had run away, she would probably have had tidings of him; but she heard none, and his body was also never found.

I have no doubt that she told Grettir about this, and also that she believed that the Stream-churl who lived under Goda-foss had carried off both her husband and the servant. I believe also that, to satisfy her, Grettir undertook to look, and that he actually dived under the fall, and came up and searched between the sheet of falling water and the rock, and found--nothing.

That is the foundation of a wonderful story which has found its way into the saga. It did not satisfy those who told the tale of Grettir that he should have spent the winter at Sandheaps and done nothing--that he should have dived under Goda-foss and found nothing.

So by degrees old nursery tales got mixed up with this incident about Grettir's search for the Stream-churl, and all was worked into a wonderful story, which you shall hear.

On that night on which Grettir had carried Steinvor across the river, he returned to the farm, and lay down in his bed.

When midnight arrived, then a great din was heard outside, and presently the hall door was thrown open and in through it came a gigantic woman, a Troll-wife, with a trough in one hand and a huge chopper in the other.

As she entered she peered about her, and saw Grettir where he lay, and she ran at him. Then he jumped up and went to meet her, and they fell a-wrestling terribly, and struggled together so furiously, that all the panelling of the hall side was broken.

She was the stronger, and she dragged Grettir towards the door, and forth towards the entrance, in spite of all his efforts. She had got him as far as the entrance, when there he made a final struggle, and in the struggle the door-posts and fittings were torn from their place, and fell outwards.

Then the Troll-woman laboured away with him towards the river, and right down towards the gulfs.

Grettir was exceedingly weary, yet he saw that his only chance was to make a last effort, or be flung by her over the edge into the deep, boiling river.

All night they contended in such fashion, and ever was he drawing nearer to the edge. But just as she was preparing to fling him into the water, he got his right hand free, and he swiftly seized his short-sword, and struck off her arm; and at that moment the sun rose, and the Troll-woman was turned into stone. There she stands with her amputated arm-socket, as a mass of black basalt or lava to this day.

If the reader will recall the story of Grettir's struggle with Glam at Thorod's-stead, in the valley of Shadows, he will see that this is only the same story over again almost in every particular,--except that the first fight was with a man, and this is with a woman. The reason why this story was concocted and put in here, was to account for the stone figure which stands by the river, and which is called the Troll-wife. So far the story carries its character on its face.

Now we will go on to the next part of the tale. It did not satisfy people that Grettir should have dived under Goda-foss and found nothing, so the story was thus told:

When the goodwife, Steinvor, came from church, she thought that her house had been rudely handled; so she went to Grettir and asked him what had occurred. Then he told her all, and she prayed him to go and make a search for her husband's bones, under Goda-foss.

Grettir consented, but he asked that the priest might be sent for. His name was Stone. Steinvor sent for him, and Stone was curious to know whether his suspicions about this stranger were true. So he asked him questions, but Grettir answered that if the priest wanted to know who he was, he must find out. The priest laughed at the story of the Troll-wife, and said he did not believe a word about the struggle.

Then Grettir said, "Well, priest, I see that you have no faith in my tale; now I propose that you accompany me to Goda-foss, and we will search for the Troll himself, and see if we can recover the bones of Steinvor's husband."

The priest, Stone, agreed, and they went together to the side of the waterfall, and they had a rope with them.

Stone shook his head, and he said, "It would be too risky for anyone to venture down there."

"I will go," said Grettir. "But you mind the rope."

The priest drove a peg into the sward on the cliff, and heaped stones over it, so as to make the end firm, and then he seated himself by the heap.

Then Grettir made a loop in the end of the rope, and put a stone through the loop, and threw the stone down, and the end of the rope went to the bottom of the gulf.

"How are you going down?" asked Stone.

"I shall dive," said Grettir.

Then he stripped, but girt on a short-sword, and so leaped off the cliff into the foss. The priest saw only the soles of his feet as he went into the water, and then saw no more.

Now, Grettir had gone in below the fall, and he dived and went under the curtain of water and came up near the rock. The whirlpool below the falls was so strong that he had a desperate struggle with the water before he could reach the rock.

When he rose, he saw that the water fell over a lip of rock, quite clear, and that in the face of the rock was a cavern, and that smoke issued from this cave, and mingling with the spray and foam passed away, and was not discerned beyond.

Grettir climbed over the stones into the cave, and there he saw a great fire flaming from amidst brands of drift-wood; and there was the Stream-churl seated there, a great Troll with a hideous face. When he saw Grettir he roared and jumped up, and caught a glaive that was near him, and smote at the newcomer. Grettir hewed back at him with his short-sword, and smote the handle of the glaive and broke it. Then the giant stretched back for a sword that hung up to a peg against the side of the cave, but as he was thus leaning back Grettir smote him across the breast, and cut through to the ribs, and gashed open his belly. The blood poured forth out of the cave and mingled with the stream. When the priest saw the bloody foam beneath the fall, he was so frightened that he ran away, for he made sure that Grettir was dead.

Grettir remained in the cave, standing across the giant, till he had killed him. Then he took up a flaming brand and searched the cave through. He found nothing more than dead men's bones, and these he put together into a bag, threw that over his shoulder, and went again into the water.

He rose beyond the foss and looked up, but could see nothing of the priest; so he caught the rope, and by means of that he swarmed up to the top of the cliff.

Then he sat down, and with a sharp knife he cut runes on a staff. And what he wrote was this:

"Down into the gulf I went, Where the rocks are widely rent; Where the swirling waters fall O'er the black basaltic wall; Where, with voice of thunder, leap In the foaming darkling deep. There the stream with icy wave Washes the grim giant's cave."

He had cut as much as he could on one stick, so now he took another, and on that he cut:

"Dreadful dweller in the cave Underneath the falling wave, Fierce at me he brandished glaive; Full of rage at me he drove, Desperate we together strove. Lo! I smote his halft in twain, Lo! I smote and he was slain, Bleeding from each riven vein."

Then Grettir carried the bag of bones and the staves to the church, and laid them in the porch.

Next morning when the priest came to the church he found the bag of bones and the staves.

Such is the story.

Now, it is clear that a good bit of it is simply transferred from the story of Grettir going down into the cairn of Karr the Old.

The real truth of the tale is no more than what has been stated, that Grettir went under the waterfall and found nothing. It is, of course, possible that he may have hoaxed the priest; but I think it more probable that all this marvellous matter is simply tacked on to one simple fact, and that it was taken, partly from the story of Grettir in the barrow of Karr, and partly from that of his struggle with Glam.

What the saga writer does admit is that the versions of the story do not quite agree, and that--in spite of this wonderful achievement, folks did not know that Grettir was at Sandheaps that winter.

*CHAPTER XXXIV.*

*HOW GRETTIR WAS DRIVEN ABOUT.*

_Thorir comes too Late--The Needle of Basalt--The Island of Drangey--The Terrors of the Dark--Brother holds to Brother_

After a while rumours reached Thorir of Garth that either Grettir, or someone very like Grettir,--a tall, powerful man with reddish hair, and one who gave no account of whence he came,--was lodging at Sandheaps, and Thorir made ready to go there after him. Fortunately Grettir, or rather the housewife Steinvor, heard of his intention, and so Grettir made off out of the valley of the Quivering Flood before Thorir came there in quest of him.

He escaped to Maddervales, in the Horg-river Dale. This is a noble valley of the Horg River, with chains of snowy peaks on each side, of peculiar shape, barred with precipices of basalt, on which lie slopes of snow.

Some way up this valley are some very remarkable spires of basaltic rock, one of which that is like a needle is said to have been climbed by Grettir whilst staying in this valley. It is not so said in the saga, but I was told so on the spot, and the tale goes that when he climbed to the top he slipped his belt round the needle, and there it hangs round it still--but no one has been up since to find if it be there where he left it.

He could not remain long there, for Gudmund the Rich, who was farmer at Maddervales, was afraid to house him for long. Thorir of Garth would come and burn his house if he harboured Grettir. However, he kept him for some little while, and then he gave him advice what he should do.

It had come to such a pass with Grettir now that no one dared to shelter him for long, and Thorir had spies everywhere to inform him where Grettir was.

Gudmund the Rich said to Grettir: "You can find no safety anywhere that men dwell; for if there be not treachery, yet the news flies about that you are there. So I advise you to go where you shall be alone."

"Where shall I go?" asked Grettir. "I am hunted like a dog."

"There is an island," answered Gudmund, "lying in the Skagafirth, called Drangey. It is a place excellent for defence, as no one can reach it without a ladder. If you could get upon Drangey, no one could come on you unawares. You would see anyone who came by boat to the island, and you could pull up a rope-ladder, without which no one would be able to ascend."

"I will try that," said Grettir; "but I have become so fearsome in the dark that not even at the risk of my life can I endure to be alone."

"Well," said Gudmund, "that is my counsel. Trust none but yourself. Treachery lies where least expected."

Grettir thanked him for his advice, and went away west to see his mother. And he was most joyfully welcomed by her and his young brother Illugi at Biarg. There he remained some nights--not many; for Ramsfirth was only over a brow of hill, and the tidings of his return home was sure in a few days to reach the relatives of Oxmain, when he would again be set on.

I said, after giving an account of Grettir's adventure at Thorhall's-stead with Glam, that there must have been something of fact in that story, and not pure fiction; and now it has been seen how that event coloured and affected his whole after life, leaving his nerves so shaken, that he could not drive off the impression then made on him, and he was ready to run serious risks rather than be subject to the terrors that came on him in the dark when alone.

He told his mother and Illugi how it was with him, and how that he had been advised to go to Drangey, but that he could not; he dare not, in the long winter night, be on that lonely islet by himself.

Then Illugi his brother said, "Grettir, I will be with you."

"Brother holds to brother as hand clasps hand," answered Grettir, and so they parted. All that summer he wandered about in wild places, shifting his quarters repeatedly, and living how he could.

*CHAPTER XXXV.*

*ON THE ISLE.*

_Illugi will go to Drangey--Asdis gives Consent--Asdis prophesies Woe--Within Sight of Drangey--Glaum becomes Grettir's Servant--Thorwald rows Grettir to Drangey--Thorbiorn Hook--The Bonders visit the Island--Grettir in Possession--An Inaccessible Spot_

When summer was now over, and the first snow of winter began to fall, when the days were rapidly shortening, and the sun had gone out of the north to the south, where it began to move in a rapidly narrowing arc, Grettir returned to Biarg and remained there a while. "But," says the saga, "so great grew his fear in the dark that he durst go nowhere as soon as dusk set in." We can see that the many years strain on his nerves had broken them. Hunted about as a wild beast, always forced to be on his guard, never able to sleep without fear of being murdered in his sleep, the trial had told on him. This was now the winter of 1028. He was aged but thirty-one; his strength of body was not abated, only his nervous force. He had been in outlawry altogether fifteen years, three for the slaying of Skeggi, then he had been outlawed by King Olaf in 1016. On his return to Iceland he had been outlawed in 1017; this was the eleventh year of his outlawry at the suit of Thorir of Garth, an outlawry not only unjust, but according to general opinion illegal, because he had been tried and sentenced in his absence, and without any witnesses having been called to establish his guilt--condemned on hearsay evidence, and he never allowed to defend himself.

Now Illugi, Grettir's sole surviving brother, was aged fifteen, and was a very handsome, honest-looking boy.

"Grettir," said he, "you know what I said. I will go with you to Drangey, if you will take me. I know not that I will be of much help to you, but this I know, that I will be ever true to you, and will never run from you so long as you stand up. Besides, I shall like to be with you, for here at home we are ever in anxiety for news about you, always fearing the worst; but if I am at your side, I shall know how you fare."

"I would rather have you with me than anyone else," answered Grettir. "But I cannot take you unless our mother consent."

Then said Asdis, "Now I can see that I have the choice of evils. I can ill spare Illugi; yet I know your trouble, Grettir, and that something must be done for you. It grieves me, my sons, to see you both leave me; yet I will not withhold my youngest from you, Grettir. It is right that brother should help brother."

That rejoiced Illugi. Then Asdis gave her sons what things she thought they might want on the island, and they made them ready to depart.

She led them outside the farm inclosure, and then she took farewell of them, saying, "My two sons! There you depart from me, and I dreamed last night that you left me for ever, and would fall together. What is fated none may fly from. Never shall I see you again, either of you. Be it so, that one fate overtake you both. In my dream I saw your bones whitening on Drangey. Be careful and watchful. My dreams have troubled me greatly. Above all beware of witchcraft. None can cope with the craft of the old."

When she had said this she wept sore.

Then said Grettir, "Weep not, mother, for if we be set on with weapons it will be said of thee that thou hadst men and not girls for thy children. Live on well, and be hale."

So they parted. Grettir and Illugi went to their relatives and visited them, never, however, staying long in any place, and so on by Swine Lake, a long sheet of water in a shallow basin, to the Blend River. This river is of the colour of milk and water, because it is so full of undissolved snow, and milk and water is called Bland, _i.e._ Blend, in Icelandic. Another river enters it that is called the Black Stream, because of the dark colour of the water. Grettir turned up the valley of the Black River and then over a pass by a pretty lake lying in a mountain lap, down into a broad marshy valley in which are three or four rivers, and boiling springs pouring forth clouds of steam on the hill-slopes. The valley is commanded by a beautiful mountain peak, called the Measuring Peak, because the natives thereabouts reckon distances from it.

Grettir and Illugi went down this valley till they reached the sea, and now there opened before them a glorious view of the fiord, extending out north about forty miles, and from ten to fifteen miles across, between mountains and precipitous cliffs. A little way back from the eastern shore stood up the Unadals Jokull, crowned with perpetual snows and with glaciers rolling down the sides, and on the west, close to the sea, seeming to rise in a wall out of it and running up into fantastic peaks, was the range of Tindastoll, famous for its cornelians and agates and other precious stones. In the offing, fifteen miles out, right in the midst of the fiord, stood up the isle of Drangey with sheer cliffs, about which the sea perpetually danced and foamed.

Grettir and Illugi skirted the shore on the west. The wind was blowing cold, and snow was driving before it, as they passed a farm. The farmer stood in his door, and saw a great man stride by with an axe over his shoulder, his hood thrown back, and his wild red hair blowing about in the gale. "Verily," said the farmer, "that must be a strange fellow not to cover his head with his hood in such weather as this." Near this little farm the brothers stumbled upon a tall, thin man, dressed in rags and with a very big head. They asked each other's names, and the fellow called himself Glaum. He was out of work, and he went along with the brothers chatting, and telling them all the gossip of the neighbourhood. Then Glaum asked if they were in want of a servant, and Grettir gladly accepted him, and the man became thenceforth his constant attendant. But the fellow was a sad boaster, and most people thought him both a fool and a coward. He was not fond of work, and he spent his time strolling about the country picking up and retailing news.

Grettir and his brother and Glaum reached a farm called Reykir as the day closed in, where was a hot spring in the farm paddock. The farmer's name was Thorwald; and Grettir asked him to put him across in a boat to Drangey. Thorwald shook his head and said, "I shall get into trouble with those who have rights of pasturage on the island. I had rather not."