“Hail, O Hag of the Rock!” said the queen. “What are you spinning to-night?”
“What am I spinning?” answered the Hag. “I am spinning the thread of many a man’s life. For those who are honest and true and deserving, I spin joy and honor and length of days; for those who are false and cruel and selfish, I spin grief and punishment and an early journey to Tuoni’s kingdom.” [[138]]
“Yes, yes, I know!” cried the queen impatiently; “but what kind of thread do you spin to-night for that rash, foolhardy man who has come into our kingdom unbidden and before his time?”
THE HAG OF THE ROCK
An old, old woman, gray-eyed, hook-nosed, wrinkled, was sitting on the rock and busily spinning.
The old woman paused in her spinning; her fingers twitched uneasily, her thin lips grew thinner still, and her gray eyes shone with phosphorescent light. Then she asked hoarsely, “Is there such a man?”
“There is,” answered the queen; “and he sleeps now on Tuoni’s couch, in the great hall of our dwelling. He is old, his hair is snow-white, wrinkles are beneath his eyes; yet he is wise and fearless, and his limbs are strong. He would fain return to his own country, carrying with him the secrets that none should know save those of Tuoni’s household.”
“That he shall never do!” cried the old woman, fiercely, savagely. “No man, whether hero or slave, shall ever recross our river to tell his friends and countrymen how matters fare on this side of the stream.”
“But he is very wise; he possesses many powerful runes; he is master of many magic spells,” said the queen. “My cunning may detain him [[139]]for a while; Tuoni may hold him for a season; but it is not given to us to destroy him. I would that we might keep him here forever—one hero in the flesh among a myriad of formless shades!”