Stakes interspersed among the battlements showed the severed heads of warriors and dogs of great ferocity were seen watching before the doors to guard the entrance.
Thorkill threw them a horn smeared with fat to lick, and so, at slight cost, appeased their most furious rage.

High up the gates lay open to enter, and they climbed to their level with ladders, entering with difficulty.

Inside the town was crowded with murky and misshapen phantoms, and it was hard to say whether their shrieking figures were more ghastly to the eye or to the ear; everything was foul, and the reeking mire afflicted the nostrils of the visitors with its unbearable stench.

Then they found the rocky dwelling which Geirrod was rumoured to inhabit for his palace.

They resolved to visit its narrow and horrible ledge, but stayed their steps and halted in panic at the very entrance.
Then Thorkill, seeing that they were of two minds, dispelled their hesitation to enter by manful encouragement, counselling them, to restrain themselves, and not to touch any piece of gear in the house they were about to enter, albeit it seemed delightful to have or pleasant to behold; to keep their hearts as far from all covetousness as from fear; neither to desire what was pleasant to take, nor dread what was awful to look upon, though they should find themselves amidst abundance of both these things.