Twice the sun had risen and had set, yet Harald had not stirred. His hearing returned; but he could not move, could not speak, could not open his eyes. Upon his breast there seemed to be a weight like the weight of a mountain keeping him down; above his head it seemed to him that there was a whole ocean--in his head there was the sound of it. But soon other sounds came to his ears, as he lay upon his bed, as if fixed to it with bands of iron. He heard whispers that made a disturbance at his heart. He heard women cluttering like hens; he heard also men making speeches. What were they making speeches about? About him. He heard them say that he was dead; that he must be grandly buried like a great warrior and king. And he heard them talk of the new king--rather, of the kingling. Why did they appoint so weak a man to be king? How quickly he could stop all that with a word. But although he had been as strong and terrible as the God Thor, he could not now even make a noise like the bleat of a lamb. Still he listened, he heard more. This king that was to be was only very distantly related to him. Such a man never could have force of will to rule the men of that country. He would have no more power than sea foam on a beach of rocks. But why should a king have been elected at all? Was not his own wife soon to become a mother? His child would be a man fit to rule. While the child was still a child, the chiefs could govern. Why did they elect that other? He is going to learn why--and this is the beginning of the terrible part of the poem. X Still he heard, and doglike, hoglike, ran Nose of hearing till his blind sight saw: Woman stood with man, Mouthing low, at paw. XI Woman, man, they mouthed; they spake a thing Armed to split a mountain, sunder seas: Still the frozen king Lay and felt him freeze. XII Doglike, hoglike, horselike now he raced, Riderless, in ghost across a ground Flint of breast, blank-faced, Past the fleshly bound.