"Now help me, O gift of the sea-god! Help me, my gallant 'Ellide'!" cried Frithiof.
And the dragon-ship heard her master's voice, and with her keel she smote the whale; so he died, and sank to the bottom of the sea, leaving the storm-fiends tossing upon the waves.
"Ho, spears and lances, help me in my need!" shouted Frithiof, as he took aim at the monsters.
And he transfixed the shrieking storm-fiends, and left them entangled in the huge coils of seaweed which the storm had uprooted.
"Ho, ho!" laughed rugged Bjorn, "they are trapped in their own nets."
And so they were; and they were so much taken up with trying to free themselves from the seaweed and from Frithiof's long darts, that they were unable to give any heed to the storm, which therefore went down, and Frithiof and his crew sailed on, and reached the Orkney Isles in safety.
"Here comes Frithiof," said the viking Atlé. "I know him by his dragon-ship."
And forthwith the viking rose and went forth; he had heard of the strength of Frithiof, and wished to match himself against him.
He did not wait to see whether Frithiof came in enmity or friendship. Fighting was the first thing he thought of, and what he most cared for.
However, the viking had the worst of it in the battle.