"Grind gold and happiness and rest for my people," cried the king gladly.
The women touched the magic millstones, and how they did grind! "Gold and happiness and rest for the people," said the women to one another. "Those are good wishes."
The gold was so bright and yellow that King Frothi could not bear to let it go out of his sight. "Grind more," he said to the women. "Grind faster. Why did you come to my gate if you did not wish to grind?"
"We are so weary," said the women. "Will you not let us rest?"
"You may rest for as long a time as it needs to say 'Frothi,'" cried the king, "and no longer. Now you have rested. Grind away. No one should be weary who is grinding out yellow gold."
"He is a wicked king," said the women. "We will grind for him no more. Mill, grind out hundreds and hundreds of strong warriors to fight Frothi and punish him for his cruel words."
The millstones ground faster and faster. Hundreds of warriors sprang out, and they killed Frothi and all his men.
"Now I shall be king," cried the strongest of the warriors. He put the two women and the magic millstones on a ship to go to a far-away land. "Grind, grind," he called to the women.
"But we are so weary. Please let us rest," they begged.
"Rest? No. Grind on, grind on. Grind salt, if you can grind nothing else."