Classics Retold – World's Greatest Tales Adapted for the Youngest. Гарриет Бичер-Стоу

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Classics Retold – World's Greatest Tales Adapted for the Youngest - Гарриет Бичер-Стоу

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did something besides listen to stories. Every morning he was up at sunrise and went with a thrall to feed the hunting dogs. Thorstein taught him to swim in the rough waters of the fiord. Often he went with the men a-hunting in the woods and learned to ride a horse and pull a bow and throw a lance. Ivar taught him to play the harp and to make up songs. He went much to the smithy, where the warriors mended their helmets and made their spears and swords of iron and bronze. At first he only watched the men or worked the bellows, but soon he could handle the tongs and hold the red-hot iron, and after a long time he learned to use the hammer and to shape metal. One day he made himself a spear-head. It was two feet long and sharp on both edges. While the iron was hot he beat into it some runes. When the men in the smithy saw the runes they opened their eyes wide and looked at the boy, for few Norsemen could read.

      "What does it say?" they asked.

      "It is the name of my spear-point, and it says, 'Foes'-fear,'" Harald said. "But now for a handle."

      It was winter and the snow was very deep. So Harald put on his skees and started for a wood that was back from shore. Down the mountains he went, twenty, thirty feet at a slide, leaping over chasms a hundred feet across. In his scarlet cloak he looked like a flash of fire. The wind shot past him howling. His eyes danced at the fun.

      "It is like flying," he thought and laughed. "I am an eagle. Now I soar," as he leaped over a frozen river.

      He saw a slender ash growing on top of a high rock.

      "That is the handle for 'Foes'-fear,'" he said.

      The rock stood up like a ragged tower, but he did not stop because of the steep climb. He threw off his skees and thrust his hands and feet into holes of the rock and drew himself up. He tore his jacket and cut his leather leggings and scratched his face and bruised his hands, but at last he was on the top. Soon he had chopped down the tree and had cut a straight pole ten feet long and as big around as his arm. He went down, sliding and jumping and tearing himself on the sharp stones. With a last leap he landed near his skees. As he did so a lean wolf jumped and snapped at him, snarling. Harald shouted and swung his pole. The wolf dodged, but quickly jumped again and caught the boy's arm between his sharp teeth. Harald thought of the spear-point in his belt. In a wink he had it out and was striking with it. He drove it into the wolf's neck and threw him back on the snow, dead.

      "You are the first to feel the tooth of 'Foes'-fear,'" he said, "but I think you will not be the last."

      Then without thinking of his torn arm he put on his skees and went leaping home. He went straight to the smithy and smoothed his pole and drove it into the haft of the spear-point. He hammered out a gold band and put it around the joining place. He made nails with beautiful heads and drove them into the pole in different places.

      "If it is heavy it will strike hard," he said.

      Then he weighed the spear in his hand and found the balancing point and put another gold band there to mark it.

      Thorstein came in while he was working.

      "A good spear," he said.

      Then he saw the torn sleeve and the red wound beneath.

      "Hello!" he cried. "Your first wound?"

      "Oh, it is only a wolf-scratch," Harald answered.

      "By Thor!" cried Thorstein, "I see that you are ready for better wounds. You bear this like a warrior."

      "I think it will not be my last," Harald said.

      Harald is King

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      Now when Harald was ten years old his father, King Halfdan, died. An old book that tells about Harald says that then "he was the biggest of all men, the strongest, and the fairest to look upon." That about a boy ten years old! But boys grew fast in those days for they were out of doors all the time, running, swimming, leaping on skees, and hunting in the forest. All that makes big, manly boys.

      So now King Halfdan was dead and buried, and Harald was to be king. But first he must drink his father's funeral ale.

      "Take down the gay tapestries that hang in the feast hall," he said to the thralls. "Put up black and gray ones. Strew the floor with pine branches. Brew twenty tubs of fresh ale and mead. Scour every dish until it shines."

      Then Harald sent messengers all over that country to his kinsmen and friends.

      "Bid them come in three months' time to drink my father's funeral ale," he said. "Tell them that no one shall go away empty-handed."

      So in three months men came riding up at every hour. Some came in boats. But many had ridden far through mountains, swimming rivers; for there were few roads or bridges in Norway. On account of that hard ride no women came to the feast.

      The guests walked in laughing and talking with their big voices so that the rafters rang. They made the hall look all the brighter with their clothes of scarlet and blue and green, with their flashing golden bracelets and head-bands and sword-scabbards, with their flying hair of red or yellow.

      Across the east end of the hall was a bench. When the men were all in, the queen, Harald's mother, and the women who lived with her, walked in through the east door and sat upon this bench.

      When the meat came, the talking stopped; for Norsemen ate only twice a day, and these men had had long rides and were hungry. Three or four persons ate from one platter and drank from the same big bowl of milk. They had no forks, so they ate from their fingers and threw the bones under the table among the pine branches. Sometimes they took knives from their belts to cut the meat.

      When the guests sat back satisfied, Harald called to the thralls:

      "Carry out the tables."

      So they did and brought in two great tubs of mead and set one at each end

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