“Let go, my rival; let go!” cried Swanhild:  “there is none to help thee, and none to tell thy tale.  Let go, I say, and seek thy marriage-bed in Goldfoss!”

But Gudruda clung on and gazed upwards with white face and piteous eyes.

“What! art thou so fain of a moment’s life?” said Swanhild.  “Then I will save thee from thyself, for it must be ill to suffer thus!” and she ran to seek a rock.  Now she finds one and, staggering beneath its weight to the brink of the gulf, peers over.  Still Gudruda hangs.  Space yawns beneath her, the waters roar in her ears, the red sky glows above.  She sees Swanhild come and shrieks aloud.

Eric is there, though Swanhild hears him not, for the sound of his horse’s galloping feet is lost in the roar of waters.  But that cry comes to his ears, he sees the poised rock, and all grows clear to him.  He leaps from his horse, and even as she looses the stone, clutches Swanhild’s kirtle and hurls her back.  The rock bounds sideways and presently is lost in the waters.

Eric looks over.  He sees Gudruda’s white face gleaming in the gloom.  Down he leaps upon the ledge, though this is no easy thing.

“Hold fast!  I come; hold fast!” he cries.

“I can no more,” gasps Gudruda, and one hand slips.

Eric grasps the rock and, stretching downward, grips her wrist; just as her hold loosens he grips it, and she swings loose, her weight hanging on his arm.

Now he must needs lift her up and that with one hand, for the ledge is narrow and he dare not loose his hold of the rock above.  She swings over the great gulf and she is senseless as one dead.  He gathers all his mighty strength and lifts.  His feet slip a little, then catch, and once more Gudruda swings.  The sweat bursts out upon his forehead and his blood drums through him.  Now it must be, or not at all.  Again he lifts and his muscles strain and crack, and she lies beside him on the narrow ledge!

All is not yet done.  The brink of the cleft is the height of a man above him.  There he must lay her, for he may not leave her to find aid, lest she should wake and roll into the chasm.  Loosing his hold of the cliff, he turns, facing the rock, and, bending over Gudruda, twists his hands in her kirtle below the breast and above the knee.  Then once more Eric puts out his might and draws her up to the level of his breast, and rests.  Again with all his force he lifts her above the crest of his helm and throws her forward, so that now she lies upon the brink of the great cliff.  He almost falls backward at the effort, but, clutching the rock, he saves himself, and with a struggle gains her side, and lies there, panting like a wearied hound of chase.

Of all trials of strength that ever were put upon his might, Eric was wont to say, this lifting of Gudruda was the greatest; for she was no light woman, and there was little to stand on and almost nothing to cling to.