THE SCENE: The climax of the sprawling Laxdaela saga is the showdown between Kjartan and ex-girlfriend’s family (Osvifssons). However, the whole episode is bookened by the remarkable dreams of a relatively minor player, An the Black, as the (abridged) passage below shows.
THE TEXT: That night, An the Black was very restless in his sleep, so they woke him up. They asked him what he had been dreaming. “A horrible woman came at me and dragged me to the edge of the bed,” he replied. “She had a huge knife in one hand and a trough in the other. She plunged the knife into my breast and ripped my whole belly open, and pulled out all my entrails and stuffed brushwood in their place. Then she went away.” Kjartan and the others laughed aloud at the dream and said he ought to be called An Brushwood-Belly. They caught hold of him and said they wanted to feel if there was any brushwood in his stomach.
Then Aud said, “There’s no need to make so much fun of this. I suggest that Kjartan should stay here longer.” Kjartan said, “You must take everything An Brushwood-Belly tells you very seriously. But dream or no dream, I am leaving as I had previously planned.” Kjartan rode south down the valley with his two companions, An the Black and Thorarin.
Over at Laugar, in Saelingsdale, Gudrun rose early as soon as the sun was up. She went to the room where her brothers were sleeping, and shook Ospak [Osvifsson]. Gudrun said she wanted to know what they were planning to do that day. Ospak said they would be having a quiet day – “for there isn’t much work to be done just now.” Gudrun said, “You would have had just the right temper if you had been peasants’ daughters. Despite all the disgrace and dishonor that Kjartan has done you, you lose no sleep over it even when he rides past your door with only a single companion. Ospak said she was making too much of this, but admitted that it was difficult to argue against her. He jumped out of bed at once and dressed, as did all the brothers one after another; then they made ready to lay an ambush for Kjartan.
Kjartan and his companions came up quickly, for they were riding hard; and when they had passed south of the ravine they caught sight of the ambush and recognized the men. Kjartan jumped off his horse at once and turned to face the Osvifssons. There was a huge boulder standing nearby, and there Kjartan said they would make their stand. As the others made for them, Kjartan hurled his spear and struck Thorolf’s shield just above the handle, driving the shield against him; the spear went right through the shield and Thorolf’s upper arm, severing the biceps. Thorolf dropped the shield, and his arm was useless for the rest of the fight.
Then Kjartan drew his sword. The Thohollusons set upon Thorarin, for that was the task allotted to them. Gudlaug and the Osvifssons made for Kjartan, so there were five of them against two, Kjartan and An the Black. An put up a stout defence and was always trying to cover Kjartan. Kjartan fought with such courage and agility that the Osvifssons had to give ground, and they turned on An instead; and now An fell, having fought for some time with his entrails coming out. At that same moment, Kjartan hacked off Gudlaug’s leg at his thigh, and that was enough to kill him. Then Bolli drew “Leg-Biter” [a cursed sword], and turned on Kjartan, [and] dealt him his death-blow.
Bolli now declared that he himself had done the killing, and sent the Osvifssons back to Laugar, while he and Thorarin stayed behind with the bodies. Kjartan’s body was taken home to Saelingsdale Tongue. Over at Saelingsdale Tongue, something remarkable happened on the night after the killing: An the Black, whom everyone had thought to be dead, sat up. Those who were keeping vigil over the bodies were frightened and though it a great marvel. But An said to them, “I beg of you in God’s name not to be afraid of me, for I have been alive all the time and never even lost consciousness until a swooning sleep came over me. Then I dreamt of the same woman as before; and in my dream she now took the brushwood from my belly and put my entrails back instead, and at this change I felt much better.”
An’s wound were now dressed, and he recovered completely; from then on he was known as An Brushwood-Belly.
– Laxdaela Saga, 13th Century AD
