So they grew up in joy and glee,
And Frithiof was the young oak tree;
Unfolding in the vale serenely
The rose was Ingeborg the queenly.
In the garden of Hilding, the teacher, were two young children.
Ingeborg was a princess, the daughter of a King of Norway. The boy,
Frithiof, was a viking's son. Their fathers, King Bele and Thorsten,
were good friends, and the children were brought up together in the
home of Hilding, their foster-father and teacher.
Hilding was very fond of them both. He called the boy Frithiof an oak,
for he was straight and strong. The little Ingeborg he called his
rose, she was so rosy and sweet.
All day roaming over field and grove the strong lad cared for the
little maid. If they came to a swift-flowing brook he would carry her
over. When the first spring flowers showed their pretty heads Frithiof
gathered them for Ingeborg. For her he found the red berries and the
golden-cheeked apples.
In the evening they sat at the feet of their kind teacher and together
they learned to read. Often they danced on the sward at twilight, when
they looked like golden-haired elves in a fairy dance.
When Frithiof had grown into a sturdy youth he often hunted in the
forests. He was so strong that he needed neither spear nor lance.
When he met the wild bear they struggled breast to breast. Both bear
and youth fought bravely, but at last Frithiof won. Home he went
gaily, carrying the great bear-skin, which he gave to Ingeborg. She
praised his bravery and strength, for every woman loves courage.
While Frithiof roamed the forest for game, Ingeborg, at the loom, wove
beautiful tapestries. Pictures of sea and grove, blue waters and
waving trees, grew under her deft fingers. Then she wove warriors on
horseback, with their shining shields and their bright red lances.
Soon the face of the leader was seen; 'twas the face of her brave
playmate, Frithiof.
In the long winter evenings around the fire, Ingeborg heard the story
of the gods. The light shining upon her fair face made her lovely as
one of the goddesses. Frithiof thought her hair as golden as Freya's
treasure.
When darkness held the quiet earth
They gathered round the welcome hearth,
And Hilding told them stories old
Of gods and kings and heroes bold.
So Frithiof and the lovely Ingeborg grew to love each other. But when
Hilding saw that the viking's son dared to love the daughter of a king,
he said: "Frithiof, my dear foster-son, in vain are your hopes.
Ingeborg is a king's daughter. Your reason should tell you that you
cannot marry her. Proud is King Bele of his family descended from the
great god Odin. He will have his daughter marry a prince, not a
yeoman. Well do I love you; brave and handsome are you and strong as
any prince, but you must forget your love for Ingeborg."
Then the brave youth smiled and said: "I am free-born, and never will I
yield. I killed the forest chief, and honour is mine for the deed.
All power is noble--Thor who hurls the thunderbolts is noble, although
Odin is king of the gods. So free-born men shall never yield though
kings are on the throne. In Thor's kingdom, where all strength is,
worth is king, not lineage. The sword always speaks with power; never
will I forget Ingeborg, but will fight all the world for her."
The free-born man will never yield,
He owns the world's unconquered field;
Where worth and not descent is leader
The sword is e'er a valiant pleader.