champions man by man; and he not only promised to fight, but assured himself the victory with most confident words.  When Hardbeen heard this, a demoniacal frenzy suddenly took him; he furiously bit and devoured the edges of his shield; he kept gulping down fiery coals; he snatched live embers in his mouth and let them pass down into his entrails; he rushed through the perils of crackling fires; and at last, when he had raved through every sort of madness, he turned his sword with raging hand against the hearts of six of his champions.  It is doubtful whether this madness came from thirst for battle or natural ferocity.  Then with the remaining band of his champions he attacked Halfdan, who crushed him with a hammer of wondrous size, so that he lost both victory and life; paying the penalty both to Halfdan, whom he had challenged, and to the kings whose offspring he had violently ravished.

Fortune never seemed satisfied with the trying of Halfdan’s strength, and used to offer him unexpected occasions for fighting.  It so happened that Egther, a Finlander, was harrying the Swedes on a roving raid.  Halfdan, having found that he had three ships, attacked him with the same number.  Night closed the battle, so that he could not conquer him; but he challenged Egther next day, fought with and overthrew him.  He next heard that Grim, a champion of immense strength, was suing, under threats of a duel, for Thorhild, the daughter of the chief Hather, and that her father had proclaimed that he who put the champion out of the way should have her.  Halfdan, though he had reached old age a bachelor, was stirred by the promise of the chief as much as by the insolence of the champion, and went to Norway.  When he entered it, he blotted out every mark by which he could be recognized, disguising his face with splashes of dirt; and when he came to the spot of the battle, drew his sword first.  And when he knew that it had been blunted by the glance of the enemy, he cast it on the ground, drew another from the sheath, with which he attacked Grim, cutting through the meshes on the edge of his cuirass, as well as the lower part of his shield.  Grim wondered at the deed, and said, “I cannot remember an old man who fought more keenly;” and, instantly drawing his sword, he pierced through and shattered the target that was opposed to his blade.  But as his right arm tarried on the stroke, Halfdan, without wavering, met and smote it swiftly with his sword.  The other, notwithstanding, clasped his sword with his left hand, and cut through the thigh of the striker, revenging the mangling of his own body with a slight wound.  Halfdan, now conqueror, allowed the conquered man to ransom the remnant of his life with a sum of money; he would not be thought shamefully to rob a maimed man, who could not fight, of the pitiful remainder of his days.  By this deed he showed himself almost as great in saving as in conquering his enemy.  As a prize for this victory he won Thorhild in marriage, and had by her a son Asmund, from whom the kings of Norway treasure the honour of being descended; retracing the regular succession of their line down from Halfdan.