Haasten pressed Ingolf's hand and whispered confidentially: "You have in Leif made a brother who at any time and without hesitation will give his blood for you to the last drop. Keep always a watchful eye on him, for his mind is as easily moved as a willow, but it has also the willow's toughness."
Holmsten handed over to Leif a broad-bladed, long-shafted battle-ax with a handle inlaid with gold, a splendid weapon, which made Leif colour with joy. "Here is an ax for you, friend Leif," he said cheerfully. "Swing it bravely, but take care that you do not absent-mindedly come to cleave your friends' heads with it!"
Leif was moved to tears. He kissed Holmsten for the ax. Leif and Holmsten's friendship lasted for whole days, to the great joy and relief of Ingolf and Haasten. They had never before been able to keep the peace for even a few hours at a time. Ingolf began to believe that the costly gifts which had been exchanged between Holmsten and Leif must have some special significance. He felt unusually cheerful in spirits that day. Leif also felt a peace and sense of security which was strange to him. It was as though the responsibility which he had assumed in entering into brotherhood evoked his manhood. He seemed to have suddenly grown adult. His mind had found an equilibrium, which acted beneficially, and was plainly traceable in his bearing.
Evening came, and the second night of the sacrificial feast was about to commence. As people began to go to the temple, Leif said to Ingolf: "I shall not go. I shall remain at home in the tent."
"Very well, I won't go either," said Ingolf, and tried to appear as though it were a matter of indifference to him.
But Leif would not hear of that. "Those who know me will not be surprised that I remain away," he said. "It is another matter with you. If you won't go alone, you will oblige me to go with you, and I don't much like going there."
At last Ingolf went alone. When he entered the temple the people were already assembled with great jubilation and much noise. On the floor there was burning a fire from one end of the temple to the other outside the partition-wall. This fire, named Langildene ("the long fires"), could be crossed at various points, though only by going through the lambent flames. Over it hung great cauldrons, whence the fumes of the meat of the sacrifices filled the air with vapour and smoke tempting to hungry stomachs.
Tables and benches were arranged on both sides of the fire. It was some time before each man had his horn. Then Atle Jarl rose, consecrated the drinking, and proposed the toast in honour of Odin. It was a toast for Victory and Might, and everyone had to empty his horn to the bottom. Some made the sign of the hammer over the horn of mead. They were those who trusted in their own power and might. They consecrated their drinking to Thor. Now other serfs entered, bearing great dishes. They fished the meat out of the cauldrons with hooks, filled the dishes, and bore them round. Then began a festive battle for the best morsels, with shouting and laughter which shook the temple.
Women now entered, lifted the gods down from their platforms, took off their dresses, and began to rub them with the fat of the sacrificial animals. This was a very solemn ceremony.
When the guests had appeased their first hunger, full horns stood again before them. Atle Jarl blessed the drinking, and they all emptied their horns in honour of Thor. Then they ate again, but now quietly and deliberately. The dishes were emptied and filled anew. There was no scarcity of food or of beer.