Arnes puts his head in at the door; he carries a large bag.
Arnes. Good evening! I did not want to trouble any one to come to the outside door. (Drops his bag on the floor.) Now Arnes is rich—there's gold sand in my bag.
Halla. I dare say there is.
Arnes. You people don't know what lies hidden in the hills. I have heard of a man who lost his way in Surt's Cave. For days he walked underground, and when at last he came up he had gold sand in his shoes.
Halla. What would you do if that were really gold in your bag?
Arnes. Then Arnes would do many things. You should help yourself to all your hands could hold, and as many times as you have given me shelter, and Arngrim the leper should also fill his fists. I know of no one else to whom I care to do good.
Gudfinna. And should I have nothing?
Arnes. I would give you new, long ear-locks of gold.
Magnus (laughing). Some little gift you'd surely have for the bailiff—no?
Arnes. For him? Yes, if I could throw the sand into his eyes. (Opens the bag and takes out a handful of Iceland moss.) They are fine, these lichens, and taste good when you cook them in milk.