en there was a
great crash, and down fell the roof. Skarphedinn was then shut in
between it and the gable, and so he could not stir a step thence.

Flosi and his band stayed by the fire until it was broad daylight; then
came a man riding up to them. Flosi asked him for his name, but he said
his name was Geirmund, and that he was a kinsman of the sons of Sigfus.

"Ye have done a mighty deed," he says.

"Men," says Flosi, "will call it both a mighty deed and an ill deed, but
that can't be helped now."

"How many men have lost their lives here?" asks Geirmund.

"Here have died," says Flosi, "Njal and Bergthora and all their sons,
Thord Kari's son, Kari Solmund's son, but besides these we cannot say
for a surety, because we know not their names."

"Thou tellest him now dead," said Geirmund, "with whom we have gossipped
this morning."

"Who is that?" says Flosi.

"We two," says Geirmund, "I and my neighbour Bard, met Kari Solmund's
son, and Bard gave him his horse, and his hair and his upper clothes
were burned off him."

"Had he any weapons?" asks Flosi.

"He had the sword 'Life-luller,'" says Geirmund, "and one edge of it was
blue with fire, and Bard and I said that it must have become soft, but
he answered thus, that he would harden it in the blood of the sons of
Sigfus or the other Burners."

"What said he of Skarphedinn?" said Flosi.

"He said both he and Grim were alive," answers Geirmund, "when they
parted; but he said that now they must be dead."

"Thou hast told us a tale," said Flosi, "which bodes us no idle peace,
for that man hath now got away who comes next to Gunnar of Lithend in
all things; and now, ye sons of Sigfus, and ye other Burners, know
this, that such a great blood feud, and hue and cry will be made about
this burning, that it will make many a man headless, but some will lose
all their goods. Now I doubt much whether any man of you, ye sons of
Sigfus, will dare to stay in his house; and that is not to be wondered
at; and so I will bid you all to come and stay with me in the east, and
let us all share one fate."

They thanked him for his offer, and said they would be glad to take it.

Then Modolf Kettle's son sang a song.

But one prop of Njal's house liveth,
All the rest inside are burnt,
All but one,--those bounteous spenders,
Sigfus' stalwart sons wrought this;
Son of Gollnir[72] now is glutted
Vengeance for brave Hauskuld's death,
Brisk flew fire through thy dwe