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Chapter 17

           Ioutgrewallbeakersandtankards,andnotforlongcouldhehalf-drownmeinhismeadpot.Thislastwasafavouritefeatofhis.Itwashisrawhumour,asallyesteemedbyhimdeliciouswit.

           MyfirstmemoriesareofTostigLodbrog’sbeakedshipsandfightingmen,andofthefeasthallatBrunanbuhrwhenourboatslaybeachedbesidethefrozenfjord.ForIwasmadedrink-boy,andamongstmyearliestrecollectionsaretoddlingwiththewine-filledskullofGuthlaftotheheadofthetablewhereTostigbellowedtotherafters.Theyweremadmen,allofmadness,butitseemedthecommonwayoflifetomewhoknewnaughtelse.Theyweremenofquickragesandquickbattling.Theirthoughtswereferocious;sowastheireatingferocious,andtheirdrinking.AndIgrewlikethem.HowelsecouldIgrow,whenIservedthedrinktothebellowingsofdrunkardsandtotheskaldssingingofHialli,andtheboldHogni,andoftheNiflung’sgold,andofGudrun’srevengeonAtliwhenshegavehimtheheartsofhischildrenandherstoeatwhilebattlesweptthebenches,toredownthehangingsrapedfromsoutherncoasts,and,litteredthefeastingboardwithswiftcorpses.

           Oh,I,too,hadarage,welltutoredinsuchschool.IwasbuteightwhenIshowedmyteethatadrinkingbetweenthemenofBrunanbuhrandtheJutswhocameasfriendswiththejarlAgardinhisthreelongships.IstoodatTostigLodbrog’sshoulder,holdingtheskullofGuthlafthatsteamedandstankwiththehot,spicedwine.

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