“You are the man,” said the queen. “Long ago it was prophesied that a hero named Coldfeet would come to Lonesome Island without my request or assistance, and that our son would cover the whole world with his power. Come with me now to Lonesome Island.”
The queen gave Coldfeet’s old mother good clothing, and said, “You will live in my castle.”
They all left Brandon Mountain and journeyed on toward Lonesome Island till they reached the house where the sword of light was. It was night when they came and dark outside, but bright as day in the house from the sword, which was hanging on the wall.
“Where did you find this blade?” asked Coldfeet, catching the hilt of the sword.
“My grandfather had it,” said the woman.
“He had not,” said Coldfeet, “and I ought to take the head off your husband for stealing it when I was here last.”
Coldfeet put the sword in his scabbard and kept it. Next day they reached the house where the bottle was, and Coldfeet took that. The following night he found the loaf and recovered it. All the old men were glad to see Coldfeet, especially the oldest, who loved him.
The queen with her son and Coldfeet with his mother arrived safely in Lonesome Island. They lived on in happiness; there is no account of their death, and they may be in it yet for aught we know.