VALGERD. You have not spoken a word of the Erl.
ORM. Have you asked a word about your mate?
VALGERD. Where is he? Lives he?
ORM. I know not.
VALGERD. You know not!—you, his foster brother? Where did you part from him?
ORM. Far out in the gulf. It was merry out there you may believe. You should have seen him swimming with my lyre in his hand. The sea-weed was so tangled in his beard and hair that one was tempted to believe that it was Neptune himself. Just then came a wave as big as a house—
VALGERD. And then?
ORM. And then—I saw my lyre no more.
VALGERD. Orm! You jest while your lord and brother is perhaps perishing out there! I command you—go at once and seek him! Do you hear?
ORM. Why, what is the matter? You were never before so concerned about your mate! You might find time to give me a drink of ale before I go.