Grettir looked at the beam; the fire leaped up, and by its light the runic inscription on it was visible. Grettir at once saw evil. "The worst is come upon us," he said sadly, as he cast the axe away, and threw himself down by the fire. "This is the same log that I have twice rejected. Glaum, you have done us two ill turns, first when you neglected the fire and let it go out, and now in that you have brought this beam to us. Beware how you commit a third, for that I foresee will be your bane as well as ours."
Illugi bound up his brother's wound with rag; there was but a slight flow of blood, but it was an ugly gash. That night Grettir slept soundly. For three days and nights he was without pain, and the wound seemed to be healing healthily, the skin to be forming over it.
"My dear brother," said Illugi, "I do not think that this cut will trouble you long."
"I hope not," answered Grettir. "But none can see where a road leads till they have gone through to the end."
On the fourth evening they laid them down to sleep as usual. About midnight the lad, Illugi, awoke hearing Grettir tossing in his bed as though suffering.
"Why are you so uneasy?" asked the boy.
Grettir replied that he felt great pain in his leg, and he thought, he said, that some change must have taken place in the condition of the wound.
Illugi at once blew up the embers on the hearth into a flame, and by its light examined his brother's leg. He found that the foot was swollen and discoloured, and that the wound had reopened, and looked far more angry than he had seen it yet. Intense pain ensued, so that poor Grettir could not remain quiet for a moment, but tossed from side to side. His cheeks were fevered, and his tongue parched. He could obtain no sleep at all.
Illugi never left him, he sat beside him holding his hand, or bringing him water to slake his unquenchable thirst.
"The worst approaches, and there is no avoiding it," said Grettir. "This sickness is sent by the old witch in revenge for the stone I had cast at her."