Frithiof, the son of Thorsten, went to his father's hall, the mighty Framness. For twelve miles in all directions stretched his broad acres. The hilltops were covered with birch forests. On the sloping sides grew the golden corn and the tall rye. Many blue lakes gleamed like mirrors. Streams rippled over the pebbly beds. In the wide valleys herds of oxen and sheep were quietly grazing, and in the stables were twenty-four steeds swift as the whirlwind.
In the great hall built of choicest fir more than five hundred warriors gathered at Yule-time. A great table of oak, polished and shining, ran through the middle from end to end. The floor was covered with straw, and on the hearth in the centre of the hall a warm and cheerful fire was always burning.
On the great nails in the hall hung helmets and coats-of-mail. Between them flashed swords and sparkling shields. Round the table sat the warriors, and as often as the drinking-horn needed filling fair maidens came with the joyous mead.
All this and other vast treasures did Frithiof receive from
his father,
Scarce was there found in the Northland any with richer
possessions,
Save were he heir to a kingdom, for of kings is the wealth
always greatest.
Though from no king he descended, yet was his mind
truly royal,
Courteous, noble, and kind. Daily became he more famous.
Rich was the house of Framness. Everywhere plenty and beauty, gleaming jewels, gold and silver, met the eye of the stranger. But three things in Framness were most prized by Frithiof and his brave men. First of the three was a sword which had descended from father to son. The sword was called Angurvadel, grief-wader, and brother of lightning. Made in the far east, it had finally come into the hands of Viking, the father of Thorsten.
When Viking was a youth of fifteen he heard of a monster ferocious and shaggy, misshapen and higher in stature than man, who came from the wood to the palace of a weak old king. This king had a lovely daughter, and the monster boldly demanded her hand and the kingdom, offering to meet in hand-to-hand combat any who would say him nay. No one dared to meet him, for no one had a weapon that could pierce his hard skull.
Then came Viking gladly to the combat with Ironskull, and with one blow of his good sword Angurvadel cleft the head of the monster and rescued the maiden. Viking gave the sword to his son Thorsten, and Thorsten gave it to Frithiof. The hilt was of hammered gold, covered with mystic red letters. Whenever he drew the sword light filled the hall, as when the northern lights gleam or the bright lightning flashes.
Lost was the warrior
Who met, on the field of encounter, the blade with its red
letters glowing.
Widely renowned was that sword, and of swords was the
chief in the Northland.
The second prize in Framness was the wonderful arm-ring forged by Volund, the lame blacksmith. This ring was made of gold and was very heavy, and upon it Volund had carved pictures. First he showed the house of the gods, with twelve high castles. In one was the sun rising over the ocean. In the second castle were Odin and Saga, drinking together from a golden shell. That shell is the ocean gilded by the glow of morning. Balder, the beautiful king of summer, was seen, the good, kind god. Next was shown the castle of Giltner, the home of peace. Within was Forseti, god of justice, holding the scales. Many more pictures were graven on the great ring, showing the conflict between light and darkness. High in the centre was a cluster of rubies bright as the sun in the heavens. This circlet was a family heirloom, for Frithiof's mother was a descendant of Volund, its maker.