Folko often joined the circle of combatants; so that he only met their attacks, defending himself, but depriving no one of the prize.

The Norwegians, who stood around as spectators, used to compare him to the demi-god Baldur, one of the heroes of their old traditions, who was wont to let the darts of his companions be all hurled against him, conscious that he was invulnerable, and of his own indwelling strength.
At the close of one of these martial exercises, old Rolf advanced towards Folko, and beckoning him with an humble look, said softly, "They call you the beautiful mighty Baldur,--and they are right.

But even the beautiful mighty Baldur did not escape death.

Take heed to yourself." Folko looked at him wondering.

"Not that I know of any treachery," continued the old man; "or that I can even foresee the likelihood of any.