"Grettir has in such wise played,
That Keingala has he flayed,
Whose trustiness would be my boast
(Proudest women talk the most);
So the cunning lad has wrought,
Thinking thereby to do nought
Of my biddings any more.
In thy mind turn these words o'er."
The housewife answered, "I know not which is least to my mind, that
thou shouldst ever be bidding him work, or that he should turn out all
his work in one wise."
"That too we will make an end of," said Asmund, "but he shall fare the
worse therefor."
Then Grettir said, "Well, let neither make words about it to the
other."
So things went on awhile, and Asmund had Keingala killed; and many
other scurvy tricks did Grettir in his childhood whereof the story
says nought. But he grew great of body, though his strength was not
well known, for he was unskilled in wrestling; he would make ditties
and rhymes, but was somewhat scurrilous therein. He had no will to lie
anight in the fire-hall and was mostly of few words.