There was a pool on the floor where I stood, for it was true enough that I had been ice covered.

Then I put on a rough warm brown frock with a cord round the waist, so that I looked like a lay brother at Glastonbury, and all the while I waxed more and more sleepy with the comfort of the place.

But I wiped my arms carefully while the old priest was busy with a cauldron over the fire, and we were ready at the same time.
Then I had a meal of some sort of stew that seemed the best I ever tasted, and a long draught of good mead, while the host looked on in grave content.

And then he spread a heap of dry seaweed in a corner near the fire, and blessed me and bid me sleep.

Nor did I need a second bidding, and I do not think that I can have stirred from the time that I lay down to the moment when I woke with a feeling on me that it was late in the daylight.
So it was, and I looked round for my kind host, but he was not to be seen.