ver be sweet music
as they slept, and across whose waves their spirits would hold
converse as of yore.

After the death of Thorsten, Frithiof took his land and ruled in his
stead, with the aid of his two foster-brothers, Bjoern and Osmund. And
he was now the owner of _Ellida_, the good ship which understood every
word that was spoken to her, as though she were alive; and of two
other heirlooms of priceless value. The first was a sword, Angurvadel
it was named, which tradition said had been forged in Eastern lands by
the dwarfs. Its hilt was of hammered gold, and the blade was covered
with magic runes, which in peace were dull, but which flamed blood-red
when the sword was brandished in war. The other was a marvellous
arm-ring, carved with all the wonders of the heavens.

It had always been the custom of the House of Thorsten to invite the
household of the king each year to a banquet, and so, soon after he
had succeeded to his father's place, Frithiof gave a feast more
magnificent than any that had been given hitherto. For he knew that,
with her two brothers, would come also Ingeborg the Fair, whom he
loved with his whole heart. And while the two young kings sat at the
board with hostile looks and downcast faces, this sweet princess
laughed among her maidens like a sunny day in June. Her hair was as
golden as the butter-cups in the spring meadows, her eyes were blue
like a summer sea, and her face fair as a hawthorn bush when it first
opens its buds of red and white.

But Frithiof was silent in her presence, for he had no words save "I
love thee" in his mind.

After this festival, the two kings turned home again in deeper wrath
than ever, for they saw how all men loved Frithiof and had him in
honour.

But after their departure, Frithiof grew silent and sad of
countenance, and when his foster-brother Bjoern questioned him as to
the cause he answered: "Sad am I because I love the Princess Ingeborg
with all my heart, and now would I ask for her in marriage. But I am
not of royal birth, and much I fear that my suit will be refused."

"Let us at least make trial," said practical Bjoern; and so, together
with a band of followers, they set off in the swift dragon-ship
_Ellida_ to the strand where, upon their father's burial mound, the
kings sat in judgment with their people.

Then Frithiof stood forth and in manly words made his request for the
hand of Ingeborg the Fair. But the kings said scornfully:

"Think not tha