"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.