And Sigurd said: "I would have a horse of my very own."
To which the king replied: "Choose for thyself a horse from any part of the kingdom it seems good to thee."
So Sigurd went away to the wild woods to consider where he should search for the finest steed in all the world; and as he pondered he met in the way a tall, old man, with a grey hat drawn over his forehead and a grey-blue cloak about his shoulders, who asked him where he was going.
"I want to choose a horse," said Sigurd. "Come thou with me, old man, and give me thy counsel."
So they went together to a meadow where all the finest horses in the king's dominions were feeding, in charge of the royal grooms. And the stranger said: "See now, let us drive all these horses into the deeps of the river and choose the one that best can cross the foaming tide."
And this they did. And it came to pass that, because of the strong swirl of the waters, all but one of the horses turned back and scrambled again to land.
But one not only breasted the tide as though it were still water, but, having gained the opposite bank, he raced round the meadow as though he were a colt. Then plunging into the river again he swam back quite easily and rejoined his companions.
"That is the horse that I will choose," said young Sigurd, and running out, he caught the beautiful creature by the mane. Young of years was he, grey of colour, and very great and fair of limb; and as yet no man had thrown foot across his back.
Then said the old man: "This horse is of the kin of Sleipnir, the steed of Odin. Nourish him well, for he will prove the best of horses to thee."
And with those words he vanished.