Now, after a bitter cold winter, the spring had begun to look out again upon the Ardennes mountains, though the scenes were yet oftentimes darkened by rain-clouds, the north wind contended with the zephyr, and the streams were swollen with melting snows. There it befell once on a day, towards evening, that a knight mounted on a stately horse, and arrayed in bright golden armour, came from the heights of the wood-covered hills into a narrow valley, so lonely and silent, that it seemed hidden and closed up from all the world. The horseman had a great battle-axe hung by gold chains from his saddle, two golden vulture’s wings adorned his helmet; it was the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn. He had not rode far into this sequestered vale, when, lo! there came out of the thickets a wild brown horse, which advanced at full speed, and making a furious attack on the sea-monarch’s tall charger, threw him down with violence ere the rider could quit his seat, so that both fell together; and the wild horse continued without mercy his warlike assault. Sir Arinbiorn’s golden armour was already shattered, and his charger bled from many severe wounds, when a powerful voice called aloud from a rocky cliff, “Ruhig, du Bursch!” whereupon the raging animal, bowing his head humbly towards the ground, stood motionless as a statue. The brave Sir Arinbiorn then disengaged himself from the stirrup, and raised up his wounded steed, in which work he was assisted by the stranger, whose voice had sounded from the cliffs. Looking on his companion, the knight perceived that he was a man clothed in rough bear-skins, frightful to behold, while his long hair and beard nearly concealed his features. His voice, however, sounded so mild and friendly, and his whole demeanour was so courteous, that the sea-monarch did not hesitate to accept his invitation, and accompany him to his dwelling, which was not far distant.