So the old king and his faithful friend were united in death as they
had been in life, and were buried on the shore of the loud-singing sea.
Together by the wish of the people did his sons, Helge and Halfdan,
rule the kingdom.
Frithiof, the son of Thorsten, went to his father's hall, the mighty
Framness. For twelve miles in all directions stretched his broad
acres. The hilltops were covered with birch forests. On the sloping
sides grew the golden corn and the tall rye. Many blue lakes gleamed
like mirrors. Streams rippled over the pebbly beds. In the wide
valleys herds of oxen and sheep were quietly grazing, and in the
stables were twenty-four steeds swift as the whirlwind.
In the great hall built of choicest fir more than five hundred warriors
gathered at Yule-time. A great table of oak, polished and shining, ran
through the middle from end to end. The floor was covered with straw,
and on the hearth in the centre of the hall a warm and cheerful fire
was always burning.
On the great nails in the hall hung helmets and coats-of-mail. Between
them flashed swords and sparkling shields. Round the table sat the
warriors, and as often as the drinking-horn needed filling fair maidens
came with the joyous mead.
All this and other vast treasures did Frithiof receive from
his father,
Scarce was there found in the Northland any with richer
possessions,
Save were he heir to a kingdom, for of kings is the wealth
always greatest.
Though from no king he descended, yet was his mind
truly royal,
Courteous, noble, and kind. Daily became he more famous.
Rich was the house of Framness. Everywhere plenty and beauty, gleaming
jewels, gold and silver, met the eye of the stranger. But three things
in Framness were most prized by Frithiof and his brave men. First of
the three was a sword which had descended from father to son. The
sword was called Angurvadel, grief-wader, and brother of lightning.
Made in the far east, it had finally come into the hands of Viking, the
father of Thorsten.
When Viking was a youth of fifteen he heard of a monster ferocious and
shaggy, misshapen and higher in stature than man, who came from the
wood to the palace of a weak old king. This king had a lovely
daughter, and the monster boldly demanded her hand and the kingdom,
offering to meet in hand-to-hand combat any who would say him nay. No
one dared to meet him, for no one had a weapon that could pierce his
hard skull.
Then came Viking gladly to the combat with Ironskull, and with one blow
of his good sword Angurvadel cleft the head of the monster and rescued
the maiden. Viking gave the sword to his son Thorsten, and Thorsten
gave it to Frithiof. The hilt was of hammered gold, covered with
mystic red letters. Whenever he drew the sword light filled the hall,
as when the northern lights gleam or the bright lightning flashes.
Lost was the warrior
Who met, on the field of encounter, the blade with its red
letters glowing.
Widely renowned was that sword, and of swords was the
chief in the Northland.
The second prize in Framness was the wonderful arm-ring forged by
Volund, the lame blacksmith. This ring was made of gold and was very
heavy, and upon it Volund had carved pictures. First he showed the
house of the gods, with twelve high castles. In one was the sun rising
over the ocean. In the second castle were Odin and Saga, drinking
together from a golden shell. That shell is the ocean gilded by the
glow of morning. Balder, the beautiful king of summer, was seen, the
good, kind god. Next was shown the castle of Giltner, the home of
peace. Within was Forseti, god of justice, holding the scales. Many
more pictures were graven on the great ring, showing the conflict
between light and darkness. High in the centre was a cluster of rubies
bright as the sun in the heavens. This circlet was a family heirloom,
for Frithiof's mother was a descendant of Volund, its maker.
[Illustration: Viking ship]
The third of the family treasures was _Ellide_, the famous ship, of
which this story is told. When Viking was returning from the wars he
saw a sailor adrift on the billows. Noble and tall he seemed, borne on
the waves as if he were at home on the sea. He wore a mantle of blue
bound by a golden girdle. His hair was sea-green and his beard as
white as the foam of the ocean.
Viking took him home and cared for him right courteously; but soon he
sailed away in his broken boat, thanking Viking warmly for his
kindness. "If I could only leave thee a gift!" said he. "Perhaps in
the morning the ocean will waft thee a token."
The next day Viking stood on the shore, when, lo! swiftly over the
billows came a dragon ship. There was no leader, no sailor, no
steersman. The wonderful ship drew near, the sails were furled by
unseen hands and the anchor dropped into the firm sand.
Viking was speechless with wonder. Then he heard the winds murmur
softly: "Aeger never forgetteth a kindness. He giveth thee this
dragon."
Kingly the gift and beautiful. Its throat was ablaze with gold, and
bordered with red were its inky black pinions. When they were
unfolded, the boat flew in a race with the whirlwind and left far
behind the swift eagle. Widely renowned was the ship, the chief of all
ships of the Northland.
Of chieftains Frithiof had many around his hearth. One youth whom he
greatly loved was Bjorn. Frithiof and Bjorn were of the same age and
dear to each other, brothers in joy and grief. In the days of their
boyhood they had mingled their blood, thus becoming brothers in good
Northern fashion, in peace and in war sworn to help and avenge each
other.