Her willfulness was quite broken, and now she sought only to make Skirnir unsay the words of horror.
"I shall bring the maid to you," said Skirnir the Venturesome.
"If I choose to die, you need not weep for me," quoth Skirnir boldly.
No sword ever owned was as bright as his except the sword that Frey had given to Skirnir.
Skirnir hid his face, and the horse flew along swifter than the wind.
Skirnir was too sensible to think this speech worth answering.
Skirnir brought it to Asgard and put it into the hands of the Gods.
Skirnir heard this gladly, for now he knew what he would do.
Skirnir took Freyr's horse and magic sword, rode through the flames, and conquered the unwilling Gerda by means of runes.
Now Skirnir's voice was loud and the hoof-beats of his horse were mighty.