(The distaff breaks, and HALLGERD drives them out with her hands. 
  Their voices continue for a moment outside, dying away.)

  Call to the owl-friends....  Woe!  Woe!  Woe!

                        ASTRID
  Whence came these mounds of dread to haunt the night? 
  It doubles this disquiet to have them near us.

                        ODDNY
  They must be witches—­and it was my distaff—­
  Will fire eat through me....

                        STEINVOR
                                   Or the Norns themselves.

                        HALLGERD
  Or bad old women used to govern by fear. 
  To bed, to bed—­we are all up too late.

      STEINVOR (as she turns with ASTRID and ODDNY to the dais)
   If beds are made for sleep we might sit long.

  (They go out by the dais door.)

      GUNNAR (as he enters hastily from the left)
  Where are those women?  There’s some secret in them: 
  I have heard such others crying down to them.

                        HALLGERD
  They turned foul-mouthed, they beckoned evil toward us—­
  I drove them forth a breath ago.

                        GUNNAR
                              Forth?  Whence?

                        HALLGERD
  By the great door:  they cried about the night.

  (RANNVEIG follows GUNNAR in.)

                        GUNNAR
  Nay, but I entered there and passed them not. 
  Mother, where are the women?

RANNVEIG
I saw none come.

GUNNAR
They have not come, they have gone.

RANNVEIG
I crossed the yard,
Hearing a noise, but a big bird dropped past,
Beating my eyes; and then the yard was clear.

(The deep baying of the hound is heard again.)

GUNNAR
They must be spies:  yonder is news of them. 
The wise hound knew them, and knew them again.

(The baying is succeeded by one mid howl.)

                                    Nay, nay! 

Men treat thee sorely, Samm my fosterling: 
Even by death thou warnest—­but it is meant
That our two deaths will not be far apart.

RANNVEIG
Think you that men are yonder?

GUNNAR
Men are yonder.

                      RANNVEIG

My son, my son, get on the rattling war-woof,
The old grey shift of Odin, the hide of steel. 
Handle the snake with edges, the fang of the rings.

GUNNAR (going to the weapons by the high-seat)
There are not enough moments to get under
That heavy fleece:  an iron hat must serve.

                        HALLGERD
  O brave!  O brave!—­he’ll dare them with no shield.

      GUNNAR (lifting down the great bill)
  Let me but reach this haft, I shall get hold
  Of steel enough to fence me all about.