water-nixies' wonderful music. In the waterfalls, the stromkarls sang; and sometimes, under ground, they could hear the hill-trolls praying Odin to give them souls.
Sometimes they found beautiful grassy places where grew the fair white flower, called Balder's brow in memory of the gentle god.
So the days passed quickly. Frithiof grew straight and strong and tall in the mountain air. No maiden was so fair as Ingeborg. Even Sif's magic golden hair was not more beautiful than Ingeborg's as it fell over her rosy cheeks and soft white neck. So brave and strong was Frithiof that he slew a bear and laid the great beast at Ingeborg's feet.
On winter evenings they sat by the fire and heard the little elves of the hearthstone, who teach the wind how to sing in the chimney.
While Ingeborg embroidered with gold and silver thread, Frithiof read noble sagas of the gods and their chosen heroes.
But King Bele and Thorsten Vikingsson grew old and feared to die of old age and not enter Valhalla. So Frithiof and the king's two sons, Helge and Halfden, were called to the house of the king.
There stood the two silver-haired heroes, King
