Jarngrim.—Many are the eyes of day, the night has but one! Let not the fire die down, Thorolf! The mead you will drink with me to-night has become warm! Is well-nigh ready.
(JARNGRIM walks into the cave. As soon as his back is turned a black patch is seen between his shoulders. THOROLF strikes another blow at him, but his sword strikes the rock wall. JARNGRIM and the ravens vanish.)
Thorolf.—Is he hiding here, the hell-hound?
His Men—Who? Who?
Thorolf.—I have spoken with Woden and he has foretold me my death.
First Man.—You have not spoken with any one, since we came here. But we have heard avalanches in the distance, nor is that strange in weather such as this.
Thorolf.—I shall live no longer than this fire burns! Take well care of the fire, men! Where are you, my men? (Falls into a swoon. The second man tends the fire and makes it blaze up; the first man busies himself with THOROLF.)
Second Man.—He is very ill.
First Man.—He may have seen some ill wight, for ever since he saw the fire he has lost his senses.
Broddi (behind the stage).—There is that fire again, let us go that way.