5. Now of thy wolves take one from out the stall; let him run with runic rein.[42] Hyndla.
6. Sluggish is thy hog the god's way to tread:
Freyia.
7. I will my noble palfrey saddle.
Hyndla.
8. False are thou, Freyia! who temptest me: by thy eyes thou showest it, so fixed upon us; while thou thy man hast on the dead-road,[43] the young Ottar, Innstein's son.
9. Dull art thou, Hyndla! methinks thou dreamest, since thou sayest that my man is on the dead-road with me; there where my hog sparkles with its golden bristles, hight Hildisvini, which for me made the two skilful dwarfs, Dain and Nabbi. From the saddle we will talk: let us sit, and of princely families discourse, of those chieftains who from the gods descend. They have contested for the dead's gold, Ottar the young and Angantyr.
10. A duty 'tis to act so that the young prince his paternal heritage may have, after his kindred.
11. An offer-stead to me he raised, with stones constructed; now is that stone as glass become. With the blood of oxen he newly sprinkled it. Ottar ever trusted in the Asyniur.
12. Now let us reckon up the ancient families, and the races of exalted men. Who are the Skioldungs? Who are the Skilfings? Who the Odlings? Who the Ylfings? Who the hold-born? Who the hers-born? The choicest race of men under heaven?