“I guess,” said Lambi Sigurd’s son, “that they would still run
the risk though more men stood against them.”
Thrain throws off his cloak, and takes off his helm.
Now it happened to Skarphedinn, as they ran down along the Fleet,
that his shoe-string snapped asunder, and he stayed behind.
“Why so slow, Skarphedinn?” quoth Grim.
“I am tying my shoe,” he says.
“Let us get on ahead,” says Kari; “methinks he will not be slower
than we.”
So they turn off to the tongue, and run as fast as they can.
Skarphedinn sprang up as soon as he was ready, and had lifted his
axe, “the ogress of war,” aloft, and runs right down to the
Fleet. But the Fleet was so deep that there was no fording it
for a long way up or down.
A great sheet of ice had been thrown up by the flood on the other
side of the Fleet as smooth and slippery as glass, and there
Thrain and his men stood in the midst of the sheet.
Skarphedinn takes a spring into the air, and leaps over the
stream between the icebanks, and does not check his course, but
rushes still onwards with a slide. The sheet of ice was very
slippery, and so he went as fast as a bird flies. Thrain was
just about to put his helm on his head; and now Skarphedinn bore
down on them, and hews at Thrain with his axe, “the ogress of
war,” and smote him on the head, and clove him down to the teeth,
so that his jaw-teeth fell out on the ice. This feat was done
with such a quick sleight that no one could get a blow at him; he
glided away from them at once at full speed. Tjorvi, indeed,
threw his shield before him on the ice, but he leapt over it, and
still kept his feet, and slid quite to the end of the sheet of
ice.
There Kari and his brothers came to meet him.
“This was done like a man,” says Kari.
“Your share is still left,” says Skarphedinn, and sang a song:
“To the strife of swords not slower,
After all, I came than you,
For with ready stroke the sturdy
Squanderer of wealth I felled;
But since Grim’s and Helgi’s sea-stag (1)
Norway’s Earl erst took and stripped,
Now ‘tis time for sea-fire bearers (2)
Such dishonour to avenge.”
And this other song he sang:
“Swiftly down I dashed my weapon,
Gashing giant, byrnie-breacher (3),
She, the noisy ogre’s namesake (4),
Soon with flesh the ravens glutted;
Now your words to Hrapp remember,
On broad ice now rouse the storm,
With dull crash war’s eager ogress
