“Arnkel was then drilling into the cross-plank of the door, and had laid aside his adze while he did it. Thorleif picked it up and lifted it quickly above his head, intending to bring it down on Arnkel’s head. But when Arnkel heard the whistling sound of the adze through the air, he jumped out of the way of the blow.” […]
“A sacrificial bowl was placed on the plat form and in it a sacrificial twig – like a priest’s aspergillum – which was used to sprinkle blood from the blow.” […]
“n the hayfield at Mavahlid a hand was found where the fight had taken place. It was shown to Thorarin, and he saw that it was the hand of a woman. He asked where Aud was, and was told that she was lying in her bed. He went in to see her and asked whether she was wounded.” […]
“They rode up along the ridge and came into Thorsdardal, where they broke open Thorolf’s cairn. Thorolf’s body had not decayed but he was very hideous to look at.” […]
THE SCENE: Arnkel thought his life would become easier after the death of his sadistic father Thorolf. Little did he realize that Thorolf would continue finding ways to make his – and everyone’s – lives […]
When Snorri and his men arrive at the haystack, it is not mentioned that they exchanged any words. They launched their attack at once, mostly with spears, and Arnkel defended himself with the running-blade of his sled. […]
“They went inside after they had finished unloading the hay, and took off their leather cloaks. Arnkel’s followers woke up and asked them where he was. It was as if the slave awoke from a dream, and he replied: “The truth is, he must be fighting Snorri the Godi at Orlygstadir now.”” […]
“As the summer passed, they became aware that Thorolf was not resting in peace. People could never go outside in peace once the sun had set. As well as that, the oxen that had hauled Thorolf to his grave had been ridden by trolls, and all livestock which came anywhere near Thorolf’s cairn ran wild and bellowed themselves to death.” […]
“Then he leapt up on to the bull’s neck and clasped his arms below his throat, lying there on the bull’s head between his horns, in the hope of tiring him out. But the bull raced back and forward across the field with him on top.” […]
“Steinthor was at the forefront of his troop, striking on both sides, but the ornamented sword was not much good whenever it hit a shield, and he had to keep straightening it out under his foot.” […]
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