The firth into which both fleets had mustered is called Frokasund.

Here Fridleif left the camp at night to reconnoitre; and, hearing an unusual kind of sound close to him as of brass being beaten, he stood still and looked up, and heard the following song of three swans, who were crying above him: "While Hythin sweeps the sea and cleaves the ravening tide, his serf drinks out of gold and licks the cups of milk.

Best is the estate of the slave on whom waits the heir, the king's son, for their lots are rashly interchanged." Next, after the birds had sung, a belt fell from on high, which showed writing to interpret the song.

For while the son of Hythin, the King of Tellemark, was at his boyish play, a giant, assuming the usual appearance of men, had carried him off, and using him as an oarsman (having taken his skiff over to the neighbouring shore), was then sailing past Fridleif while he was occupied reconnoitering.

But the king would not suffer him to use the service of the captive youth, and longed to rob the spoiler of his prey.