“How much will you give to any one who will leave you in the place where the Gloss is?”
“I have nothing to give him.”
“I will ask nothing of you, but the half of all you gain till you come back.”
“I will give you that,” said Kian, son of Contje.
“Be into the currach.”
In the winking of an eye he left him over in the kingdoms of the cold; nor on that island was a morsel cooked ever, but they ate every kind of food raw. Kian, son of Contje, made a fire, and began to cook his food. When Balar Beimann heard the like was there, he took him to be his cook, his story-teller, and his fireman. Well, Balar Beimann had one daughter, and a prediction was made that she would have a son, who would kill his grandfather. He then put her into prison for fear a man would come near her; and it was he himself who would go to her with food, and the companion with her was a dummy woman. Mananaun left this enchantment with Kian, son of Contje, that any lock he laid his hand on would open and shut after him. He was looking at Balar Beimann going to this house, to his daughter, with food for her, and he went himself after him to the house, and he laid his hand on the lock and opened the door, and found none but the two women there. He made a fire for them. He was coming there ever, till a child happened to her. He was then going to depart, when the boy was born. He went to the king and told him he must depart.
“Why are you going?” said he.
“It is because accidents have happened to me since I came into this island. I must go.”
“What is the accident?” said he.
“A child has happened to me.”