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Finally! Finally I – – – Egil Skallagrimson – – – get to speak again.
Now I can tell you about myself and why there has been a saga written by me, about me. Let us hope that Snorri Sturluson does not interject too much.
My father and mother, Skallagrim and Bera, had many children but the earliest ones did not survive. They had a son, sprinkled him with holy water and named him Thorolf. Everyone agreed that he looked and had the mannerisms of my dead uncle Thorolf. You remember him, right? He was the one that King Harald Fair Hair killed.
Thorolf grew in stature and became one of the strongest and most popular boys in the area. It was said that he had the strength of a grown man. Everyone loved him. He was a great speaker and never at a loss for words. In games he was a hard one to handle.
One spring Yngvar, my grandfather on my mother’s side, came over to Borg with an invitation for my mother and father to come to his house for a feast. Yngvar made a point to tell mother to bring Thorolf and anyone else she wished to.
When the day of the feast arrived my mother and father got dressed up. So did Thorolf and others who were going. I asked my father where my good clothes were. He said “You are not going.”
When I pressed him about it he said “You do not know how to behave yourself. When there are a lot of people and drinking going on you are hard to handle. It is bad enough when you are sober.”
As I sat there dejected, the party rode off on their horses.