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Thus the dwarf, rocking back and forth, chastised Buliwyf. And thus Buliwyf accepted his rebuke, for he did not reply, but only lowered his head.
"You have done the work of a mere man," the tengol continued, "and not a proper hero. A hero does what no man dares to undertake. To kill the wendol, you must strike at the head and the heart: you must overcome their very mother, in the thunder caves."
I did not understand the meaning of these words.
"You know of this, for it has always been true, through all the ages of man. Shall your brave warriors die, one by one? Or shall you strike at the mother in the caves? Here is no prophecy, only the choice of a man or a hero."
Now Buliwyf made some response, but it was low, and lost to me in the howl of the wind that raked the entrance to the cave. Whatever the words, the dwarf spoke further:
"That is the hero's answer, Buliwyf, and I would expect none other from you. Thus shall I help your quest." Then a number of his kind came forward into the light from the dark recesses of the cave. And they bore many objects.
"Here," said the tengol, "are lengths of rope, made from the skins of seals caught at the first melting of the ice. These ropes will help you to attain the ocean entrance to the thunder caves."
"I thank you," Buliwyf said.
"And here also," the tengol said, "are seven daggers, forged with steam and magic, for you and your warriors. Great swords will be of no avail in the thunder caves. Carry these new weapons bravely, and you shall accomplish all you desire."
Buliwyf took the daggers, and thanked the dwarf. He stood. "When shall we do this thing?" he asked.
"Yesterday is better than today," the tengol replied, "and tomorrow is better than the day which follows that. So make haste, and carry out your intentions with a firm heart and a strong arm."
"And what follows if we succeed?" Buliwyf asked.
"Then the wendol shall be mortally wounded, and thrash in its death throes a final time, and after this last agony the land shall have peace and sunlight forevermore. And your name shall be sung glorious in all the halls of the Northlands, forevermore."
"The deeds of dead men are so sung," Buliwyf said.
"That is true," the dwarf said, and laughed again, the giggle of a child or a young girl. "And also the deeds of heroes who live, but never are sung the deeds of ordinary men. All this you know."
Now Buliwyf departed from the cave, and gave to each of us the dagger of the dwarves, and we descended from the rocky windswept crags, and returned to the kingdom and the great hall of Rothgar as night was falling.
All these things took place, and I saw them with my own eyes.
THE EVENTS OF THE NIGHT BEFORE THE ATTACK
NO MIST CAME THAT NIGHT; THE FOG DESCENDED from the hills but hung back among the trees, and did not creep out onto the plain. In the great hall of Rothgar, a mighty feast was held, and Buliwyf and all his warriors joined in great celebration. Two great horned sheep were slaughtered and consumed; each man drank vast quantities of mead; Buliwyf himself ravished half a dozen slave girls, and perhaps more; but despite merrymaking neither he nor his warriors were truly cheerful. From one time to another, I saw them glance at the ropes of sealskin and the dwarf daggers, which had been set apart to one side.
Now I joined in the general revelry, for I felt as one of them, having spent much time in their company, or so it seemed. Indeed, that night I felt I had been born a Northman.
Herger, much intoxicated, told me freely of the mother of the wendol. He said this: "The mother of the wendol is very old and she lives in the caves of thunder. These thunder caves lie in the rock of cliffs, not far from here. The caves have two openings, one from the land and another from the sea. But the entrance from the land is guarded by the wendol, who protect their old mother; so it is that we cannot attack from the side of the land, for in this way we would all be killed. Therefore we shall attack from the sea."
I inquired of him: "What is the nature of this mother of the wendol?"
Herger said that no Northman knew this thing, but that it was said among them that she was old, older than the old crone they call the angel of death; and also that she was frightful to look upon; and also that she wore snakes upon her head as a wreath; and also, too, that she was strong beyond all accounting. And he said at the last that the wendol called upon her to direct them in all their affairs of life. Then Herger turned from me and slept.
Now this event occurred: in the depths of the night, as the celebrations were drawing to a close and the warriors were drifting into sleep, Buliwyf sought me out. He sat beside me and drank mead from a horned cup. He was not intoxicated, I saw, and he spoke slowly in the North tongue, so that I should understand his meaning.
He said first to me: "Did you comprehend the words of the dwarf tengol?"
I replied that I did, with the help of Herger, who now snored near to us.
Buliwyf said to me: "Then you know I shall die." He spoke thus, with his eyes clear and his gaze firm. I did not know any reply, or response to make, but finally said to him in the North fashion, "Believe no prophecy until it bears fruit."
Buliwyf said: "You have seen much of our ways. Tell me what is true. Do you draw sounds?" I answered that I did. "Then look to your safety, and do not be overbrave. You dress and now you speak as a Northman, and not a foreign man. See that you live."
I placed my hand upon his shoulder, as I had seen his fellow warriors do to him in greeting.
He smiled then. "I fear no thing," he said, "and need no comfort. I tell you to look to your own safety, for your own account. Now it is wisest to sleep."
