“Thou accountest thy help of no less worth than it is?” said Frithiof, laughing therewith; “but sure it showeth the thrall's blood in thee that thou wouldst fain be awaiting at table.”
Now it blew harder and harder yet, so that to those who were aboard liker to huge peaks and mountains than to waves seemed the sea-breakers that crashed on all sides against the ship.
Then Frithiof sang:
“On bolster I sat.
In Baldur's Mead erst,
And all songs that I could
To the king's daughter sang;
Now on Ran's bed belike
Must I soon be a-lying,
And another shall be
By Ingibiorg's side.”
Biorn said: “Great fear lieth ahead of us, foster-brother, and now dread hath crept into thy words, which is ill with such a good man as thou.”
Says Frithiof: “Neither fear nor fainting is it, though I sing now of those our merry journeys; yet perchance more hath been said of them than need was: but most men would think death surer than life, if they were so bested as we be.”
“Yet shall I answer thee somewhat,” said Biorn, and sang:
“Yet one gain have I gotten
Thou gatst not 'mid thy fortune,
For meet play did I make me
With Ingibiorgs eight maidens;
Red rings we laid together
Aright in Baldur's Meadow,
When far off was the warder
Of the wide land of Halfdan.”
“Well,” said he, “we must be content with things as they are, foster-brother.”
Therewith so great a sea smote them, that the bulwark was broken and both the sheets, and four men were washed overboard and all lost.