“Good day, good day,” said the soldier, stretching out his hand.
“Good day to you,” said the giant, giving him the red-hot iron bar.
Cask took the iron and pressed it so hard that it hissed.
“You have got very warm hands, I must say,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“I’m the giant Swede,” said the troll.
“That was a Swedish hand-shake of yours, anyhow, and now I realise that I am in the Alleberg. Are the golden helmets still asleep?”
“Will you be quiet!” exclaimed the giant, threatening him with the red-hot bar.
“You shall see them, because you belong to the Västgotadal regiment, but first of all you must solve my riddle,” he continued.
“If you want to fight one of your own countrymen, well and good. But first of all, put that fiery thing away!”
“Very well, Cask, you shall recite the history of Sweden while I smoke my pipe. Then I will show you the golden helmets. The whole history of Sweden, please.”