Arriving back in the evening, they found a visitor at the gates. A lady was sitting comfortably on the ground: and seeing them approach nimbly jumped to he feet. “Ah, that was easy” she mumbled to herself before she bowed graciously.
“Well met, lady! What brings you to our gates? Have you come to join us? Are you a warrior?”
“Oh no, I am not a warrior although I come from such a line. I am a gardener, and a teacher. A scholar and naturalist. And of course a mother, grandmother, wife.”
“Most honorable occupations, all of these things! But why have you come here? Surely you know we mostly take heroes and warriors?”
“Do bear in mind, Old Man, that not all heroes are warriors. But I am not of your people, although I have known many of yours. I seek merely to visit your hall and taste your mead on my way to my own land.”
“This is a boon you ask, as surely you must know! Our mead is for our warriors!”
“This is well known to me, being a mead maker myself. But I also know your mead flows freely, and you would lose nothing by humoring an old woman passing by your gates on her way.”
“You are right that out mead is plentiful! But all must deserve it to drink! And you are no warrior.”
“No warrior am I, but I am a bard. Perhaps I offer you a song that your people and mine enjoy in the far south of Midgård, where the animals are so different from your North? And perhaps bring you some of their tales, and those of others of that land too?”
”A skald on my doorstep! I would not dream of driving one such away with no nourishment! Please share our halls and our mead for tonight!”
”Thank you kindly, Old One. I thus accept your invitation, and will sing for you tonight in your hall of deities.”
“Welcome to Valhalla, dear Lady!”
