Maybe this was Braki’s doing. Faithful to the son of his dead king, the chieftain and a few yeomen went two or three times each year to the giants’ dwelling to spend days with Hadding. From him the boy heard about men and their ways, their whole world beyond these wilds, what had gone on in it aforetime and what was going on now. Braki told him about the gods and the uneasiness between them and the jotuns; Vagnhöfdi liked not to hear such talk. Braki said that the high runic magic was one thing but the seething of witch-brews and calling on the underworld was an ugly other.

First and foremost did Braki make clear to Hadding who he was, how he came to be here, what he had lost that was his by right of blood and what burden of revenge that blood laid upon him. The chieftain brought weapons along, gave them to Hadding, and drilled him ruthlessly in their use and in war-craft.

He knew no humans but these. Their guestings were seldom and short. Yet ever more as he neared manhood he yearned for the life that was theirs and his, home fires, farings, friendship, women, offspring, towns, riches, ships, and lands new to him lying across the sea, the sea.

He was the son of Gram. His father lay unavenged while he, who should be king of the Danes, hunkered in the house of a backwoods thurs, set snares for beaver, and raided birds’ nests for eggs. More and more he brooded on it, alone afar in the wilderness or under stormy skies on bare hillcrests. More and more of his time went to work with sword and shield, hewing at foes he raised up in his mind.

Then Braki brought woeful news. Gudorm, Hadding’s half brother whom he did not remember, was slain.

Men thought that belike Gudorm’s mother, Gro, had always secretly egged him on against her husband, Svipdag. Lately the tale went among them that after she died her ghost came and told him to take arms. Be that as it may, he did. Riding around Denmark from Thing to Thing, he got himself hailed king at those meetings and called warriors to follow him. But Svipdag was too quick. He brought a mighty host down from Svithjod, and Gudorm fell on the battlefield.

Hadding raged. Braki told him he could do nothing yet and must abide a while longer. When the chieftain had gone home, Hadding grew curt and sullen. Vagnhöfdi and Haflidi bore with it. Hardgreip tried to draw him out, failed, and watched him with a sorrow that slowly became something else.