But he wielded his hammer only with his left hand--his shield he had laid aside--and neither with helmet nor mail did he protect his head and breast.
And throughout the whole year he wore the garment which on that midsummer night smoke, flame and blood had darkly dyed.
When the Singing Swan drew near the land--the black flame marks on the wings none were allowed to efface--and Hartvik and Eigil and the sailors went to the halls of kings, Halfred stayed lying upon deck, and kept guard over the ship.
And he drank only water out of a cup of the bitter juniperwood.
Eigil brought once, from a king's halls where the Sigskald of yore had often been a guest, a splendid golden harp, which the queen, in greeting to her old friend, had sent as a present.
But as the ship turned out of the bay the harp, with a light rush, glided into the sea.
And once Halfred lay at midsummer in Iceland, on the shore by the black stone--for every midsummer night he spent alone there, his friends must remain on the ship--and looked very very sad. For his face had grown very pale.
Then there came a woman, and a wonderfully beautiful maiden, who was her daughter, and stood before him; and he turned away his face, but the mother spoke--
"I know thee, even yet, Halfred Sigskald. I can never forget thy face, although the smile of Oski no longer plays thereon, and though the furrows on thy brow are deeply scored as with a plough. This maiden dids't thou, fifteen years ago, lay in my arms a sleeping child. See how beautiful she has become, as no other in all Iceland. And this wreath of summer flowers has she twined for thee. Set it upon thy pale brow, and thou shalt be healed, for gratitude has woven it."
Then Halfred sprang up, took the wreath from the beautiful blushing maiden's hand, lifted with mighty force the huge block upwards, threw the wreath under it, and let the black stone fall heavily in its place again.