“Is it your custom thus to welcome toil-worn heroes cast upon your shores?” was Frithiof’s answer. “Then listen! Spent as I am with days of hardship and distress, yet never will I sue for peace from thee”; and therewith he drew his sword, the runes on the blade growing red as fire. Fast and furious fell the sword-strokes. Both shields at the same moment dropped, riven in twain, upon the ground; yet fearlessly the champions fought on. At last down swept Angurvadel with resistless force, and loudly clanging Atle’s blade was shattered. Frithiof stepped back, saying, “Swordless I will not slay thee; but if thou wouldst not yet have peace then let us try a wrestling contest.” Foaming with rage, Atle sprang at him and a fearful struggle began. Like two eagles seizing on their prey, they grappled with each other. The earth shook with the trampling of their feet. It seemed as if the heaving of their breasts would burst the encasing mail, while in awe their comrades stood about them waiting for the issue of the contest. At length Thorsten’s mighty son succeeded in throwing his adversary, and, kneeling on his breast, he cried: “Were but my sword within my grasp, its blade e’er now had pierced thee through, thou swarthy Berserk!” “Go, then, and fetch it—I will lie here the while,” said Atle proudly. “All brave men to Valhalla’s halls must wend at last—I to-day and thou to-morrow.” Still filled with the rage of battle, Frithiof with one bound reached his sword and was about to despatch his prostrate foe, who moved not, but lay calmly gazing upward, when he suddenly relented and, dropping his sword, held out his hand to the vanquished Atle. Just then Halvar came hurrying thither waving a white wand and crying: [Illustration: _FRITHIOF’S wrestle_] “Cease, cease your furious strife! The savory viands that await ye grow cold in their silver dishes, and my thirst doth press me sore.” Therewith the two heroes who but now had striven in deadly combat together sought the court of Augantyr in peace. The appearance of the great hall filled Frithiof with astonishment. In place of the usual oaken planks the walls were covered with gilded leather adorned with flowering vines. The chimney was of marble; tapers in silver candlesticks illuminated the halls; the doors were held fast with locks. A bountiful meal stood ready spread in heavy silver dishes, and near the high-seat a roasted stag adorned the board, the horns entwined with leaves, the hoofs gilded. On the high-seat of silver sat Augantyr, clad in helm and mail of glittering steel, inlaid with gold, a purple mantel sown with silver stars depending from his shoulders. He arose as Frithiof entered, and advanced to meet his guest, saying: “Full many a horn have I drained in Thorsten’s company, and glad am I to do fitting honor to his valiant son.”