Hall was a wise man and good-hearted, Flosi answered him well in everything, but gave way in nothing.

Hall asked what men had promised him help?  Flosi named Mord Valgard’s son, and said he had asked for his daughter at the hand of his kinsman Starkad.

Hall said she was a good match, but it was ill dealing with Mord, “and that thou wilt put to the proof ere this Thing be over”.

After that they ceased talking.

One day Njal and Asgrim had a long talk in secret.

Then all at once Asgrim sprang up and said to Njal’s sons—­

“We must set about seeking friends, that we may not be overborne by force; for this suit will be followed up boldly.”

Then Asgrim went out, and Helgi Njal’s son next; then Kari Solmund’s son; then Grim Njal’s son; then Skarphedinn; then Thorhall; then Thorgrim the big; then Thorleif crow.

They went to the booth of Gizur the white and inside it.  Gizur stood up to meet them, and bade them sit down and drink.

“Not thitherward,” says Asgrim, “tends our way, and we will speak our errand out loud, and not mutter and mouth about it.  What help shall I have from thee, as thou art my kinsman?”

“Jorunn my sister,” said Gizur, “would wish that I should not shrink from standing by thee; and so it shall be now and hereafter, that we will both of us have the same fate.”

Asgrim thanked him, and went away afterwards.

Then Skarphedinn asked, “Whither shall we go now?”

“To the booths of the men of Olfus,” says Asgrim.

So they went thither, and Asgrim asked whether Skapti Thorod’s son were in the booth?  He was told that he was.  Then they went inside the booth.

Skapti sate on the cross bench, and greeted Asgrim, and he took the greeting well.

Skapti offered Asgrim a seat by his side, but Asgrim said he should only stay there a little while, “but still we have an errand to thee”.

“Let me hear it,” says Skapti.

“I wish to beg thee for thy help, that thou wilt stand by us in our suit.”

“One thing I had hoped,” says Skapti, “and that is, that neither you nor your troubles would ever come into my dwelling.”

“Such things are ill-spoken,” says Asgrim, “when a man is the last to help others, when most lies on his aid.”

“Who is yon man,” says Skapti, “before whom four men walk, a big burly man, and pale-faced, unlucky-looking, well-knit, and troll-like?”

“My name is Skarphedinn,” he answers, “and thou hast often seen me at the Thing; but in this I am wiser than thou, that I have no need to ask what thy name is.  Thy name is Skapti Thorod’s son, but before thou calledst thyself ‘Bristle-poll,’ after thou hadst slain Kettle of Elda; then thou shavedst thy poll, and puttedst pitch on thy head, and then thou hiredst thralls to cut up a sod of turf, and thou creptest underneath it to spend the night.  After that thou wentest to Thorolf Lopt’s son of Eyrar, and he took thee on board, and bore thee out here in his meal sacks.”