“Yea,” she answered, “full clearly; he is worn with wind and sea, but more glorious than aforetime, and his hair is long. Say, what shall befall him if thou aidest not?”
“This, that he shall safely pass the Firth, for the gale falls, and come safely to Fareys, and from Fareys isles to Gudruda’s arms.”
“And what canst thou do, Goblin?”
“This: I can lure Eric’s ship to wreck, and give his comrades, all save Skallagrim, to Ran’s net, and bring him to thy arms, Swanhild, witch-mother’s witch-child!”
She hearkened. Her breast heaved and her eyes flashed.
“And thy price, Toad?”
“Thou art the price, lady,” piped the goblin. “Thou shalt give thyself to me when thy day is done, and merrily will we sisters dwell in Hela’s halls, and merrily for ever will we fare about the earth o’ nights, doing such tasks as this task of thine, Swanhild, and working wicked woe till the last woe is worked on us. Art thou content?”
Swanhild thought. Twice her breath went from her lips in great sighs. Then she stood, pale and silent.
“Safely shall he sail the Firth,” piped the thin voice. “Safely shall he sit in Fareys. Safely shall he lie in white Gudruda’s arms—hee! hee! Think of it, lady!”
Then Swanhild shook like a birth-tree in the gale, and her face grew ashen.