As fruitful Weodmonath draws to its end Thegn Lytelman ventures forth from Gefnhame to greet his folk and return to them the hostages taken by the witch. Though the warmth of his welcome varies from steading to steading, all are pleased to see the return of their loved-ones and none challenge his right to style himself Thegn of Gefndene. Some of the bolder, however, are at pains to point out that the witch, ruthless and cruel as she oft-times was her dealings with them, at least kept the wights from their gates. Some were keen to tell of the mayhem that the valley experienced in the decade before the witch. Lytelman gives assurances wherever he goes that he will be their protector in her stead and deal with them fairly.
Weodmonath gone and Haligmonath come, all eyes turn to the Thegn to give the word to begin the harvest. The weather being yet fine there is much discussion about when to take the crop. Lytelman, advised by Eawulf, holds firm for the middle of the month and awaits the third sennight for his harvest sacrifice. The families of the valley send extra pairs of hands and the harvest collected is agreed by all to be exceptionally fine. Three days after the harvest is in there is a great storm. Men agree that Lytelman is either wise, well-advised or exceptionally lucky for with the harvest safely in the barns there is little damage done. There is much feasting as the summer ale is finished and thanks given to Thunor and Gefion. Folk note that the worship of the latter is led by Nothgyth who has taken on the role of her priestess. She spends much time during this period learning her runes with Eawulf and practising their carving. The girl, Alwyn, is oft-times with them.
One morning, not long after the storm a breathless Coel runs into the hall. When the lad regains the power of speech he tells those gathered around that there is a bear in the fish-traps. Lytelman gathers his warband and goes to see for himself. When they arrive the bear is departed down stream and Saexbeorht is repairing the damage to the traps. Lytelman with Wistan, Herewulf and Tohrwulf decide to track the bear back to its den, for they reason that having found the fish-traps it will doubtless be back repeatedly as it prepares for its winter slumbers. They follow the course of the river down which the bear was last seen swimming, eastwards through the woods at that end of the valley, hugging the south bank. At length they spot a set of tracks on the far bank, which seem to climb a scrubby slope towards a bluff.
The river is high after the recent storm and some of the Geats are poor swimmers, but Tohrwulf swims a rope to the other side, wraps it around a tree trunk and guides the others across. After an initial scramble, the path levels slightly to an uphill trudge through gorse and whins, Wistan in the lead. Suddenly but a few yards ahead the bear rears and roars its defiance. A bear is a fearsome beast for a man to face alone, especially in the confines of a thicket where he cannot step aside from its rush but Wistan bravely steps up and levels his spear. The bee-wolf charges and though his spear finds a mark the beast overwhelms him and the brave atheling falls beneath its claws. However, he has bought his comrades time and blunted its charge. Lytelman steps up and does battle with the bear over his comrade’s prone form while Tohrwulf jabs at it over his shoulder with his gar. At length the bear is slain.
While Lytelman lies panting from his exertions and Tohrwulf patches the unconscious atheling’s wounds, Herewulf follows the bear’s tracks back up the slope to the foot of an overhanging bluff. There he finds a deep crevice in the rock. As he peers into the darkness a deep, stony voice rings out from the shadows. It is crying out for the bear, which it calls by name. Receiving no response it becomes first querulous then wroth, saying that it can smell manflesh and swearing vengeance if his companion has been harmed. Herewulf all the while grips his weapons tightly, yet nothing but threats issue forth from the cave. Herewulf reasons that perhaps its denizen is some manner of nihtagenga – a night-walker – that will not leave its dwelling while the sun is yet high in the sky. With Wistan still insensible and Lytelman exhausted by his combat with the bear the Geats decide that they would be best served at this point by returning to Gefnhame.
They reach home with some hours of daylight to spare and fall to thinking about this night-troll. They realise of a sudden that if they could return from its den in the daylight, then Gefnhame would be in easy reach of the Night-Walker – a reach that would be easier as the winter progressed, it being the equinox. Given its threats, perhaps its plan to follow them back and attack the hall that very night. Rather than await its move, Lytelman and his companions decide that the best form of defence is attack. Leaving Wistan to be tended by the priests, Lytelman sets forth in the twilight with a party reinforced by the two Sweon warriors, Sweyn and Svipdag. Their plan was to reach the crossing point by dusk and ambush the Night-troll as it forded the river, should it be following their tracks.
As night fell the Geats and their Sweon allies were in position. Their Tiw-cunning was good for as the darkness gathered they could hear as much as see in the dark a large figure looming on the far bank and hear the distinct sound of sniffing as it sought their scent. Unfortunately at this point the war-god deserted them for they seemed not to have prepared sufficiently for what to do next. Those missiles that were cast – chiefly arrows from the bow of Herewulf – went awry in the dark or were turned by the nihtagena’s tough hide as it slipped out of sight into the dark waters of the river. When it emerged it did so silently and used its speed and superior night-sight to strike swiftly out of the darkness. It landed several keen blows upon Lytelman in particular and laid him low, though not before he had struck some blows of his own. Others added their efforts and at length it appeared that the troll had had enough since it slipped silently back into the water and was not seen again that night.
The Geats made their way home, once more carrying one of their number – Lytelman – prostrate from his wounds. However, when they returned to Gefnhame they found Wistan recovered after the ministrations of the priests and with their help Lytelman was once more brought back to fighting fitness. By mid-morning the next day they were planning a return to the woods, this time to beard the creature in its den – where they were sure it was lurking, away from the golden eye of the sun.
So it was that six bold heroes, the four Geats and two Sweons set forth once more, armed with torches in addition to their weapons. They crossed the river once more and climbed their way up to the cave that Herewulf had stood before the previous day. This time there was naught but silence issuing from the fissure as the warriors crept in. The fight that ensued was brief and but bloody, with Lytelman once again carried from the field unconscious, felled by a blow to the head from the troll’s stone hammer, his life only spared by his Ingwe-blessed battle helm. However, at length the Night Walker was brought low by the defenders of Gefndene and turned to the stone from whence it came.