It fell over my arms, and at once they drew it tight, jerking me off my feet.

As I went down, a howling crowd fell on me and took the good sword from me, and bound me hand and foot, having overpowered me by sheer numbers.
Then they looked at Kolgrim, and laughed, and left him.

I was sure he was dead then, and I fell into a great dumb rage that seemed like to choke me.
They dragged the scald and me to the fire, and I saw into what hands we had fallen, and I will say that I was fairly afraid.

For these were no thrifty Cornish folk, but wild-looking men, black haired and bearded, clad in skins of wolf, and badger, and deer, and sheep, with savage-eyed faces, and rough weapons of rusted iron and bronze and stone.

So strange were their looks and terrible in the red light of the great fire, that I cried to Harek: "These be trolls, scald! Sing the verses that have power to scare them." Now it says much for Harek's courage that at once he lifted up no trembling voice and sang lustily, roaring verses old as Odin himself, such as no troll can abide within hearing of, so that those who bore him fell back amazed, and stared at him.