EGIL [Crouched, pacing to and fro.] Free me, Freyja! Frore am I, frost-bit; Go we together into greenwood glad! Mirk under moon-mist mad will meet thee, Hunt thee from hiding, thy heart-beats hear.
ARFI It is the wolf that wakes, while Egil slumbers.
EGIL [Looking, with closed eyes, as toward a height.] Free me, Freyja! Fair art thou, froward; Go we together into greenwood glad! Burns thine eyebeam bright as the bitch-wolf’s; Longeth Fenris in thy lair to lie.
THORDIS What other name spake he?
ARFI I could not hear.
EGIL [In sudden terror, seeking to fly.] Ai! anarch! anarch! Ulfr!
THORDIS Wake him.
ARFI Wait; What this reveals to us may prove of help To him.
EGIL [Defiantly.] Oathless am I!
THORDIS But see! he suffers.