Orn came out, bent and aged, blinking with inflamed eyes in the garish light of morning. He gave such an immense yawn that his shaggy jaws cracked and shivered, chilled by the cold autumnal air. Old age had come upon him, bent his back, and gnawed the flesh from his limbs. When Ingolf saw him, he hastened to him. Now that he saw him again, after not having had him daily before his eyes for several months, he suddenly realized how old and decrepit his father had actually become, and was seized by a strong feeling of sympathy. He whispered something as he passed in a man's ear. The man smiled and nodded, and ran down to the ships. Then Ingolf hastened to his father and greeted him with reverence and tenderness.
The old man was always on his guard against too much friendliness. Old age had increased his mistrust of people. He was peevish and gruff. He returned his son's greeting very nonchalantly, and began with noticeable haste to question him concerning purely practical matters. Had he all the ships with him? How much had he allowed himself to be cheated? He had not, it was to be hoped, brought an Irish wife home with him? How many of his men had fallen? He had probably nothing creditable to report?
It seemed to Ingolf that his voice had become remarkably high-pitched and strident.
And when Ingolf had answered, the old man repeated his questions time after time. It suddenly occurred to Ingolf that his father could no longer hear as well as before. He had to raise his voice, and he found it trying and embarrassing to have to change it. Orn noticed the change, and shouted: "Yes, I no longer hear so well. It is especially this ear here which is affected. But it is worse with Rodmar! He is alive still. But he has gone blind!" Orn laughed with a snort. "That is still worse!" His laughter filled Ingolf with discomfort. Then Orn suddenly stopped laughing. He had happened to cast a glance down towards the ships. Now he stood, his glance became fixed, and his eyes widened. Then he suddenly began to count and point at the same time with a crooked finger. "One, two, three...."
When he had counted up to twenty, he broke off and said to Ingolf, with a voice trembling with joyful emotion: "How many are there altogether?" Ingolf smiled. "There are many," he answered, in a friendly tone. "I took care that you should not want wine, father."