Frithiof also came, for the thane Thorsten Vikingsson desired to see him, that he too might bless his son when King Bele blessed the royal princes.
And the two old friends spoke words of wisdom to their children, and prayed that the gods might be with them in peace and war, in joy and sorrow, and grant them a long life and a glorious death.
And when their counsels and prayers were ended, King Bele said, “And now, O sons, I bid you remember, in that day when death shall claim me and my faithful friend, that ye lay our bones side by side near the shore of the great ocean.”
In due time, King Bele died, and Helgi and Halfdan shared his kingdom between them.
Thorsten Vikingsson died also, and Frithiof became lord of his ancestral home of Framnaes.
Rich treasures did that home contain, three of them of magic power.
The first was the sword of Angurvadel. Blood-red it shone in time of war, and wo to him who contended with its owner on the battle-field.
Next was an arm-ring of pure gold, made by the god Voelund, and given by him to one of Thorsten Vikingsson’s forefathers. Once it was stolen and carried to England by the viking Sote, but Thorsten and his friend King Bele pursued the robber. Over the sea they sailed after the viking, and landed at a lonely place where the rocks reared up their sharp points and made the coast dangerous.
There were deep caverns which the waters filled when the tide was up, so lone and dark that men were almost afraid to go into them.
But Thorsten Vikingsson and the King his master were not daunted. Hither had they come after the pirate, and here it was that he had last been heard of; and they searched along the shore and in the caves, and peered into every hole and cranny, until their eyes grew strained and heavy, but no viking Sote was to be seen.
They had almost given up hope of finding him, when, looking through a chink that had hitherto escaped their notice, a fearful sight was seen by the valiant thane.
Within a mighty vault, forming a still, cold tomb, there lay a vessel all complete, with masts and spars and anchor; and on the deck there sat a grim skeleton clad in a robe of flame, and on his skinless arm glittered the golden arm-ring wrought by Voelund. The figure held in his left hand a blood-stained sword, from which he was trying to scour away the stains.
“It is my arm-ring,” said Thorsten Vikingsson; “it is the spirit of the viking Sote.”
And forthwith he forced his way into the tomb, and, after a deadly conflict with the specter, regained his treasure.
And the two friends sailed home in triumph.
The third great thing that Frithiof inherited was
“Ellide,” which his forefathers had won in the following manner:
One of them, a rough, rude viking, with a tender heart, was out at sea, and on a wreck that was fast sinking saw an old man with green locks sitting disconsolately.