Within it was more attractive than she had expected. Rushes were
strewed over the floor. It was full of the fresh fragrance of pine
and resin. The sunshine that played through the windows and cracks
made bands of light through the air. It looked as if she had been
expected; in the crannies of the wall green branches were stuck,
and in the fireplace stood a newly cut fir-tree. Toenne had not
moved in his old furniture. There was nothing but a new table and a
bench, over which an elk skin was thrown.

As soon as Jofrid had crossed the threshold, she felt the pleasant
cosiness of home surrounding her. She was happy and content while
she stood there, but to leave it seemed to her as hard as to go
away and serve strangers. It happened that Jofrid had expended much
hard work in procuring a kind of dower for herself. With skilful
hands she had woven bright colored fabrics, such as are used to
adorn a room, and she wanted to put them up in her own home, when
she got one. Now she wondered how those cloths would look here. She
wished she could try them in the new house.

She hurried quickly home, fetched her roll of weavings and began to
fasten the bright-colored pieces of cloth up under the roof. She
threw open the door to let the big setting sun shine on her and her
work. She moved eagerly about the cottage, brisk, gay, bumming a
merry tune. She was perfectly happy. It looked so fine. The woven
roses and stars shone as never before.

While she worked she kept a good look-out over the moor and the
graves, for it seemed to her as if Toenne might now too be lying
hidden behind one of the cairns and laughing at her. The king's
grave lay opposite the door and behind it she saw the sun setting.
Time after time she looked out. She felt as if some one was sitting
there and watching her.

Just as the sun was so low that only a few blood-red beams filtered
over the old stone heap, she saw who it was who was watching her.
The whole pile of stones was no longer stones, but a mighty, old
warrior, who was sitting there, scarred and gray, and staring at
her. Round about his head the rays of the sun made a crown, and his
red mantle was so wide that it spread over the whole moor. His head
was big and heavy, his face gray as stone. His clothes and weapons
were also stone-colored, and repeated so exactly the shadings and
mossiness of the rock, that one had to look closely to see that it
was a warrior and not a pile of stones. It was like