For many days did Wulnoth journey southward, for though Lethra was nigh the sea, and the journey over the Westarweg was the shortest road, yet he had no boat in which to sail, and, moreover, the time of the storms was coming, and he knew that to sail alone was to seek for death. So by land he was forced to go, and the way was long and hard, and many were the times that he felt he would abide where he was, and give up this vain search. And strange was it that whenever these thoughts came to him, then also came the strange being who was so like himself, and he would cry to Wulnoth to wrestle with him ere he went farther, and only when Wulnoth had wrestled and conquered was he able to go on again. Many were the adventures which he met with, and many the perils he encountered, yet, still, in spite of all, he went his way over the long, long leagues towards the southern sea, where he must perforce take ship of some kind if he wished to reach the sea-king's land on the other side of the wild Baltic, whereon the storm-king makes his dwelling-place and rides in his flying palace of lightning and tempest. He made himself a light spear of hard wood, and with this he hunted the wild goats and the forest swine, and took their flesh for his food, and on this and on the wild berries did he live, and for his drink he had the runnels of clear water and nothing else. By day he journeyed and by night he slept in the hollow trees or in caves, living like a wild man and a berserker, and, moreover, looking like one also, since his face was all grown with a wild beard and his hair hung in tangled masses to his shoulders. In those dark nights, when the storms raged and the forest groaned beneath the buffets of the blast, evil voices called and made mock, urging him to give up so wild a journey, but in the day time the better voices always answered and encouraged him; and oft in his dreams Edgiva the Beautiful would stand beside him and smile, and beckon him on, whispering to him in tones like the sweet music of the scald's harp-- "Be brave, Wulnoth! Be patient, Wulnoth, for fame, and honor, and love, and that which is better than fame or honor or love await thee in the end." And when Edgiva stood thus, it ever seemed that she ever held that little cross of wood, bound with grass and wreathed with thorn spray, which Wyborga the Wise had fashioned in the days long past. So through the forests and across the mountains and over dreary wastes did Wulnoth go, and of those whom he met his only question was whether he was journeying towards the sea-king's land. "Thou art going aright," he was answered each time he asked that question. "Thou wilt come to the sea, and there thou must take ship. But beware what thou doest in the sea-king's land, for fierce and cruel are the vikings, and their swords sing loudly."