"Lessener of waves flashing flame,
To my lucky hand this came
In the barrow where that thing
Through the dark fell clattering;
If that helm-fire I should gain,
Made so fair to be the bane
Of the breakers of the bow,
Ne'er from my hand should it go."
Thorfinn said, "Well hast thou prayed for it, but thou must show some
deed of fame before I give thee that sword, for never could I get it
of my father while he lived."
Said Grettir, "Who knows to whom most gain will come of it in the
end?"
So Thorfinn took the treasures and kept the sword at his bed-head,
and the winter wore on toward Yule, so that little else fell out to be
told of.