Moreover, if Ragnar did not like Iduna, from the first Iduna hated Ragnar.  So it came about that, although both my father, Thorvald, and Iduna’s father, Athalbrand, stormed and threatened, these two declared that they would have nothing to do with each other, and the project of their marriage came to an end.

On the night before we were to leave Lesso, whence Ragnar had already gone, Athalbrand saw me staring at Iduna.  This, indeed, was not wonderful, as I could not take my eyes from her lovely face, and when she looked at me and smiled with those red lips of hers I became like a silly bird that is bewitched by a snake.  At first I thought that he was going to be angry, but suddenly some idea seemed to strike him so that he called my father, Thorvald, outside the house.  Afterwards I was sent for, and found the two of them seated on a three-cornered, flat stone, talking in the moonlight, for it was summer-time, when everything looks blue at night and the sun and the moon ride in the sky together.  Near by stood my mother, listening.

“Olaf,” said my father, “would you like to marry Iduna the Fair?”

“Like to marry Iduna?” I gasped.  “Aye, more than to be High King of Denmark, for she is no woman, but a goddess.”

At this saying my mother laughed, and Athalbrand, who knew Iduna when she did not seem a goddess, called me a fool.  Then they talked, while I stood trembling with hope and fear.

“He’s but a second son,” said Athalbrand.

“I have told you there is land enough for both of them, also the gold that came with his mother will be his, and that’s no small sum,” answered Thorvald.

“He’s no warrior, but a skald,” objected Athalbrand again; “a silly half-man who makes songs and plays upon the harp.”

“Songs are sometimes stronger than swords,” replied my father, “and, after all, it is wisdom that rules.  One brain can govern many men; also, harps make merry music at a feast.  Moreover, Olaf is brave enough.  How can he be otherwise coming of the stock he does?”

“He is thin and weedy,” objected Athalbrand, a saying that made my mother angry.

“Nay, lord Athalbrand,” she said; “he is tall and straight as a dart, and will yet be the handsomest man in these parts.”

“Every duck thinks it has hatched out a swan,” grumbled Athalbrand, while with my eyes I implored my mother to be silent.

Then he thought for awhile, pulling at his long forked beard, and said at last: 

“My heart tells me no good of such a marriage.  Iduna, who is the only one left to me, could marry a man of more wealth and power than this rune-making stripling is ever likely to be.  Yet just now I know none such whom I would wish to hold my place when I am gone.  Moreover, it is spread far and wide throughout the land that my daughter is to be wed to Thorvald’s son, and it matters little to which son.  At least, I will not have it said that she has been given the go-by.  Therefore, let this Olaf take her, if she will have him.  Only,” he added with a growl, “let him play no tricks like that red-headed cub, his brother Ragnar, if he would not taste of a spear through his liver.  Now I go to learn Iduna’s mind.”