Once this giant had murderously raided farms newly founded along the edge of the wilderness. When warriors from the whole shire drove him back, he sent blights on the crops and murrains on the livestock. But Braki’s grandfather had also known somewhat of magic. He broke those spells. Then he sought out the giant by himself.

The two of them came to agreement. Vagnhöfdi would let men be if they did not fell trees, hunt, or otherwise make trouble in these high woodlands off which he lived. Since then, the chiefs in Yvangar had seen to it that the pact was kept. Now and then one of them had had reason to seek him out—such as Halldor, to settle what should be done about beasts wild or tame that strayed off their rightful grounds, or Halldor’s son Braki swapping iron tools for furs.

Nonetheless Vagnhöfdi understood that there were bounds upon him. He was a terrible foe who might well put a host to flight, but if too many men came at him for too long, he would die. It would happen very fast if they offered to Thor and the god chose to help them.

Thus Braki and his following led their horses into that end of the house where other kine were, saw to them, and sat down, feeling bolder than before. They found themselves in a single vast room. Dim eventide light straggled in through scraped skins stretched across the windows. More came from the fire leaping in a trench dug in the earthen floor. Heat billowed, sparks glittered, smoke curled blue and bitter. By the restless glow eyes made out rough-hewn pillars and, barely, the crossbeams and rafters above. Night already lurked in every corner, slipping closer as the sun outside went low. There were neither high seat nor benches; one sat on the ground, drank ale from bucket-big wooden cups passed hand to hand, gnawed coarse bread and roasted meat.

Only two others dwelt here, Vagnhöfdi’s mate, Haflidi, and their daughter, Hardgreip. The mother was withdrawn, a half-seen bulk busy at cooking. Hardgreip served, then squatted nearby, eagerly listening. The guests thought she would be sightly, in an unkempt way, if she were of human size.

Cross-legged before Vagnhöfdi, who hulked over him like a cliff, Braki said: “You may have heard that kings and other highborn men commonly give children of theirs to lesser folk to raise. It is a mark of honor, and helps make fast the bond between the families. Well, I have been foster father to Gudorm here, and did my best for him till he was ready to return to King Gram.