There lived in Norway, not far from the city of Drontheim, a powerful
man who was blessed with all the goods of fortune. A part of the
surrounding country was his property, numerous herds fed on his
pastures, and a great retinue and a crowd of servants adorned his
mansion. He had an only daughter, called Aslog, the fame of whose beauty
spread far and wide. The greatest men of the country sought her, but all
were alike unsuccessful in their suit, and he who had come full of
confidence and joy, rode away home silent and melancholy. Her father,
who thought his daughter delayed her choice only to select, forbore to
interfere, and exulted in her prudence, but when at length the richest
and noblest tried their fortune with as little success as the rest, he
grew angry and called his daughter, and said to her--

"Hitherto I have left you to your free choice, but since I see that you
reject all without any distinction, and the very best of your suitors
seems not good enough for you, I will keep measures no longer with you.
What! shall my family become extinct, and my inheritance pass away into
the hands of strangers? I will break your stubborn spirit. I give you
now till the festival of the great winter-night. Make your choice by
that time, or prepare to accept him whom I shall fix on."

Aslog loved a youth named Orm, handsome as he was brave and noble. She
loved him with her whole soul, and she would sooner die than bestow her
hand on another. But Orm was poor, and poverty compelled him to serve in
the mansion of her father. Aslog's partiality for him was kept a secret,
for her father's pride of power and wealth was such that he would never
have given his consent to a union with so humble a man.

When Aslog saw the darkness of his countenance, and heard his angry
words, she turned pale as death, for she knew his temper, and doubted