Leif never returned empty-handed from an expedition. Besides the serfs and goods which he had this time gained, he had acquired a new name—Hjor-Leif.
Ingolf, Hallveig, and Helga were all obliged to laugh loudly the first time they heard him called by this new name. Leif began at once to explain eagerly, and with a little embarrassment, that it was not a name which he had himself assumed—one of his men had bestowed it on him of his own accord. But it was plain to see that he was proud of the addition to his name, and did not like their laughing at it.
They questioned him with curiosity about the sword which had given occasion for the name—a valuable sword which few remembered to have seen the like of.
Leif answered with great seriousness that there was a ludicrous story connected with that sword. He had told it once to his men. But it was not a story one went spreading about. He had no intention of repeating it. His old headman, on the other hand, was fond of relating it. He was by no means disposed to let Leif's adventure pass into oblivion. And he related it in such a way that one did not sleep quietly for several nights after hearing the old man's quavering voice relate the unheard-of terrors which Leif had experienced in the cave. He certainly deserved to be called Hjor-Leif, especially since he himself liked it—on that all were agreed, when they had heard of the way in which Leif had gained his sword. And so from that day he was called Hjor-Leif, and nothing else.
Neither Ingolf nor any one else doubted that the story was true. The sword in itself was sufficient proof. Moreover, it was so entirely like Leif not to be satisfied with fighting living men, but also to have to test his strength with the dead, and to come well out of the encounter.
Hjor-Leif was, as we have said, not to be persuaded to narrate the story himself. He was not at all fond of being reminded of it.
His other adventures, small and great, he was generally willing enough to relate. And he took them by no means seriously. His description of the way he hung out over the cliff, clinging to the handle of his ax and being thrust at by sharp spear-points, might have made even a dead man writhe with laughter, although in itself there was nothing pleasant in the situation. The Leif who revealed himself behind such experiences, and could relate them in such a light and completely artless way—that was the Leif whom Ingolf loved and could not resist. For a long time after he had heard Hjor-Leif tell of the little hollow and the flat stone, Ingolf could have a fit of laughter merely by thinking of it.
Hjor-Leif confided to Helga, and Helga alone, a wonderful story regarding which he was not sure whether it was an actual experience or a dream. Upon an island he had swum to he had met a hermit who from some mysterious characters on some pieces of skin had deciphered a long and wonderful account of a place which was called Paradise, and a bird he called the Phœnix. Had Helga ever heard the name of the place or the bird? No, Helga had not. And even though Helga in her heart thought that there was no limit to Hjor-Leif's possible experiences, she gave it, nevertheless, as her view that it was very likely a dream. Hjor-Leif also thought it might be. For part of the story or dream was that the hermit had given him shellfish to eat, and that he really had eaten them. That could in any case not be the fact, for he cherished the most decided dislike to raw shellfish. That must at least be something he had dreamt.
All the same, the story about the monk continued to haunt Hjor-Leif's mind and disquiet him. For a part of the dream which he had not confided to Helga was—that he had stolen his sword from the monk. That was a bad dream.
When Hjor-Leif returned home from the Viking expedition of the summer, Ingolf had already sold such of their goods and cattle as could not be stowed on board the two ships. He had also sold his dragon-ship. He confided in a quiet voice to his brother that he intended hereafter to lead a perfectly peaceful life. Hjor-Leif once more remembered his dream of the hermit on the island, and said that he also had had enough of these expeditions. They agreed that Ingolf should purchase from Hjor-Leif his share in the vessel, and that Hjor-Leif should then exchange his two ships for a powerful trading-ship. Ingolf had in his journeys seen one that might suit him. The matter was arranged, and everything was now ready for their departure in the next spring.