"But what brought it about?" said they.

He answered, "Little went to the death of that champion, for in the
chamber smoke was he smothered like a dog; nor is there loss therein,
for he was grown a dotard."

"Thou speakest marvellously of such a man," said they, "nor would
Grettir like thy words well, if he heard them."

"That must I bear," said Thorbiorn, "and higher must Grettir bear the
sword than he did last summer at Ramfirth-neck, if I am to tremble at
him."

Now Grettir heard full well what Thorbiorn said, and paid no heed
thereto while he let his tale run on; but when he had made an end,
then spake Grettir--

"That fate I foretell for thee, Tardy," said he, "that thou wilt not
die in chamber smoke, yet may be withal thou wilt not die of eld; but
it is strangely done to speak scorn of sackless men."

Thorbiorn said, "I have no will to hold in about these things, and
methinks thou didst not bear thyself so briskly when we got thee off
that time when the men of Meals beat thee like a neat's head."

Then sang Grettir--

"Day by day full over long,
Arrow-dealer, grows thy tongue;
Such a man there is, that thou