At dawn the four of them woke and the twain made ready. Hardgreip dressed like a man, in some of the clothes Braki had brought for Hadding over the years. She also took a sword and spear from among the chieftain’s gifts, now that she was going about in human size. She bore the food and the other gear, for besides weapons such as hers, Hadding slung on his back a shield, helmet, byrnie, and underpadding, as well as bow and arrows. Vagnhöfdi gave him a purse of gold and silver to hang beside his knife.

“I shall not see my daughter again,” the giant said, “but this is her own will and doom. You and I may meet once more, fosterling.”

The thursir stood outside their house and watched as the wanderers strode off down the hill. A last time Hadding and Hardgreip looked back and saw them huge against the sky. Then they were lost to sight behind the trees.

The days of walking through wilderness went peacefully. At length the woods opened up on the rolling lowland of Scania and the path met a rutted road. A bit farther on this led to Yvangar. There Braki’s eldest son gave hospitality together with news of the outside world.

“Svipdag holds most of Svithjod and has laid the Geats under scot,” he said, “though his grip is as yet uneasy and he must fight every year to quell uprisings. Thus he’s not much in Denmark, which has been quiet since Gudorm’s fall. But they’re restless there too. Harvests have been meager and folk mutter that this is for lack of the rightful king.”

“I am he!” cried Hadding.

“By birth, yes, or so my father always held. Still, you’d better go slowly and warily till you’ve gathered a strong following. How you may do that, I can’t guess, and I must say between us that your friend does not strike me as a lucky sort.”

“We will go on anyhow and spy things out for ourselves,” Hadding said.

First he made his host send word around the neighborhood of a feast he would give. He bought kine and pigs for it, but foremost a horse, which he slaughtered at Braki’s howe. Hardgreip dipped twigs in the blood and sprinkled it on the folk, then scattered the twigs and read the runes on them where they lay. “I see only a strangeness,” she said, “naught that I can understand.” ‘Even so, after the holy meat was cooked men ate heartily of it and spoke well of the dead man and his deeds. Hadding took that for a good enough sign, though mostly this had been his way of thanking the chieftain.