Father and son rode out the next day, arriving at Asgrim’s place uninvited, but welcome. One sleepover and one solid brunch later, and the dads were talking romance.
“My son is totally into your daughter,” explained Njal. “How about it, then?”
“I am totally down,” nodded Asgrim. “After all, I’m a big fan of yours. Those tense courtroom scenes – phwoarr.”
Fanning himself, he pressed a button, and a backdrop of a chapel dropped down. A fairytale wedding dress fluttered from the ceiling, neatly engulfing Thorhalla, and guests exploded out of the wings. The wedding was instantly in full swing, with all the best men of the district surrounding the bewildered bride and groom, clapping them on the back as champagne corks flew hither and thither in the background..
“You know what, Asgrim,” said Njal, between toasts. “I like your kids so much, I want two of them. How about I also foster your son, and tutor him in the law?”
“Which one?”
“Thorhall, I want to keep the theme.”
“Which Thorhall?”
“The younger one.”
“Sounds good,” said Asgrim, and little Thorhall rode home with the wedding party. Before long, he was calling Njal ‘Dad,’ and was well on the way to becoming Iceland’s second-best lawyer.
Saxo Dramaticus 