“He had the sword `Life-luller,’” says Geirmund, “and one edge of
it was blue with fire, and Bard and I said that it must have
become soft, but he answered thus, that he would harden it in the
blood of the sons of Sigfus or the other Burners.”
“What said he of Skarphedinn?” said Flosi.
“He said both he and Grim were alive,” answers Geirmund, “when
they parted; but he said that now they must be dead.”
“Thou hast told us a tale,” said Flosi, “which bodes us no idle
peace, for that man hath now got away who comes next to Gunnar of
Lithend in all things; and now, ye sons of Sigfus, and ye other
burners, know this, that such a great blood feud, and hue and cry
will be made about this burning, that it will make many a man
headless, but some will lose all their goods. Now I doubt much
whether any man of you, ye sons of Sigfus, will dare to stay in
his house; and that is not to be wondered at; and so I will bid
you all to come and stay with me in the east, and let us all
share one fate.”
They thanked him for his offer, and said they would be glad to
take it.
Then Modolf Kettle’s son, sang a song:
“But one prop of Njal’s house liveth,
All the rest inside are burnt,
All but one — those bounteous spenders,
Sigfus’ stalwart sons wrought this;
Son of Gollnir (1) now is glutted
Vengeance for brave Hauskuld’s death,
Brisk flew fire through thy dwelling,
Bright flames blazed above thy roof.”
“We shall have to boast of something else than that Njal has been
burnt in his house,” says Flosi, “for there is no glory in that.”
Then he went up on the gable, and Glum Hilldir’s son, and some
other men. Then Glum said, “Is Skarphedinn dead, indeed?” But
the others said he must have been dead long ago.
The fire sometimes blazed up fitfully and sometimes burned low,
and then they heard down in the fire beneath them that this song
was sung:
“Deep, I ween, ye Ogre offspring
Devilish brood of giant birth,
Would ye groan with gloomy visage
Had the fight gone to my mind;
But my very soul it gladdens
That my friends I who now boast high,
Wrought not this foul deed, their glory,
Save with footsteps filled with gore.”
“Can Skarphedinn, think ye, have sung this song dead or alive?”
said Grani Gunnar’s son.
“I will go into no guesses about that,” says Flosi.
“We will look for Skarphedinn,” says Grani, “and the other men
who have been here burnt inside the house.”
