| Transcript |
- Translated transcription: In the life of a child there is also a time for things gentle and tender; the still evenings in the shelter of the farm buildings belong to storytelling. It is Haraldr who tells the stories and Vébjörg who is transported away by them.
She listens eagerly to tales of Iðunn’s capture and Fáfnir’s gold, but her favourites are those Haraldr makes up himself about the Chieftain’s daughter, who revenged her father’s killing. Then Vébjörg is no longer the child, but the young woman, and her wide-eyes are fixed with rapture on the mouth of the storyteller, while the sun slowly sinks beyond the hall, as the mood of the adventure grows.
Soon the skies are aflame with the day’s last purple and the mood is disrupted as the winds of late evening chill the youngsters and put an end to the tale.
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