Now Jon， Eric's thrall， watched all night on Mosfell， but saw nothing except the light of Whitefire as it smote the Baresark's head from his shoulders. He stayed there till daylight， much afraid； then， making sure that Eric was slain， Jon rode hard and fast for Middalhof， whither he came at evening.
Gudruda was watching by the women's door. She strained her eyes towards Mosfell to catch the light gleaming on Eric's golden helm， and presently it gleamed indeed， white not red.
"See，" said Swanhild at her side， "Eric comes！""Not Eric， but his thrall，" answered Gudruda， "to tell us that Eric is sped."They waited in silence while Jon galloped towards them.
"What news of Brighteyes？" cried Swanhild.
"Little need to ask，" said Gudruda， "look at his face."Now Jon told his tale and Gudruda listened， clinging to the door post.
But Swanhild cursed him for a coward， so that he shrank before her eyes.
Gudruda turned and walked into the hall and her face was like the face of death. Men saw her， and Asmund asked why she wore so strange a mien. Then Gudruda sang this song：
"Up to Mosfell， battle eager， Rode helmed Brighteyen to the fray.
Back from Mosfell， battle shunning.
Slunk yon coward thrall I ween.
Now shall maid Gudruda never Know a husband's dear embrace；Widowed is she--sunk in sorrow， Eric treads Valhalla's halls！"And with this she walked from the stead， looking neither to the right nor to the left.
"Let the maid be，" said Atli the Earl. "Grief fares best alone. But my heart is sore for Eric. It should go ill with that Baresark if I might get a grip of him.""That I will have before summer is gone，" said Asmund， for the death of Eric seemed to him the worst of sorrows.
Gudruda walked far， and， crossing Laxà by the stepping stones， climbed Stonefell till she came to the head of Golden Falls， for， like a stricken thing， she desired to be alone in her grief. But Swanhild saw her and followed， coming on her as she sat watching the water thunder down the mighty cleft. Presently Swanhild's shadow fell athwart her， and Gudruda looked up.
"What wouldst thou with me， Swanhild？" she asked. "Art thou come to mock my grief？""Nay， foster-sister， for then I must mock my own. I come to mix my tears with thine. See， we loved Eric， thou and I， and Eric is dead.
Let our hate be buried in his grave， whence neither may draw him back."Gudruda looked upon her coldly， for nothing could stir her now.
"Get thee gone，" she said. "Weep thine own tears and leave me to weep mine. Not with thee will I mourn Eric."Swanhild frowned and bit her lip. "I will not come to thee with words of peace a second time， my rival，" she said. "Eric is dead， but my hate that was born of Eric's love for thee lives on and grows， and its flower shall be thy death， Gudruda！""Now that Brighteyes is dead， I would fain follow on his path： so， if thou listest， throw the gates wide，" Gudruda answered， and heeded her no more.
Swanhild went， but not far. On the further side of a knoll of grass she flung herself to earth and grieved as her fierce heart might. She shed no tears， but sat silently， looking with empty eyes adown the past， and onward to the future， and finding no good therein.
But Gudruda wept as the weight of her loss pressed in upon her--wept heavy silent tears and cried in her heart to Eric who was gone--cried to death to come upon her and bring her sleep or Eric.
So she sat and so she grieved till， quite outworn with sorrow， sleep stole upon her and she dreamed. Gudruda dreamed that she was dead and that she sat nigh to the golden door that is in Odin's house at Valhalla， by which the warriors pass and repass for ever. There she sat from age to age， listening to the thunder of ten thousand thousand tramping feet， and watching the fierce faces of the chosen as they marched out in armies to do battle in the meads. And as she sat， at length a one-eyed man， clad in gleaming garments， drew near and spoke to her. He was glorious to look on， and old， and she knew him for Odin the Allfather.
"Whom seekest thou， maid Gudruda？" he asked， and the voice he spoke with was the voice of waters.
"I seek Eric Brighteyes，" she answered， "who passed hither a thousand years ago， and for love of whom I am heart-broken.""Eric Brighteyes， Thorgrimur's son？" quoth Odin. "I know him well； no brisker warrior enters at Valhalla's doors， and none shall do more service at the coming of grey wolf Fenrir.[*] Pass on and leave him to his glory and his God."[*] The foe destined to bring destruction on the Norse gods.
Then， in her dream， she wept sore， and prayed of Odin by the name of Freya that he would give Eric to her for a little space.
"What wilt thou pay， then， maid Gudruda？" said Odin.
"My life，" she answered.
"Good，" he said； "for a night Eric shall be thine. Then die， and let thy death be his cause of death." And Odin sang this song：
"Now， corse-choosing Daughters， hearken To the dread Allfather's word：
When the gale of spears' breath gathers Count not Eric midst the slain， Till Brighteyen once hath slumbered， Wedded， at Gudruda's side--Then， Maidens， scream your battle call；
Whelmed with foes， let Eric fall！"
And Gudruda awoke， but in her ears the mighty waters still seemed to speak with Odin's voice， saying：
"Then， Maidens， scream your battle call；
Whelmed with foes， let Eric fall！"
She awoke from that fey sleep， and looked upwards， and lo！ before her， with shattered shield and all besmeared with war's red rain， stood gold-helmed Eric. There he stood， great and beautiful to see， and she looked on him trembling and amazed.
"Is it indeed thou， Eric， or is it yet my dream？" she said.
"I am no dream， surely，" said Eric； "but why lookest thou thus on me， Gudruda？"She rose slowly. "Methought，" she said， "methought that thou wast dead at the hand of Skallagrim." And with a great cry she fell into his arms and lay there sobbing.
