It chanced one day in the autumn at Borg that Skallagrim had several
oxen driven home which he meant to slaughter.
Two of these he had led under the house-wall,
and placed with heads crossing. He took a large flat stone,
and pushed it under their necks.
Then he went near with the axe—the king's gift—and hewed at the oxen both at once,
so that he took off the heads of the two. But the axe smote down on the stone,
so that the mouth broke, and was rent through all the tempered steel.
Skallagrim looked at the edge, said nothing, but went into the fire-hall, and,
mounting to the wall-beam, thrust the axe up among the rafters above the door.
There it lay in the smoke all the winter.