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Chapter 17

           

           “Butareyoucertain?”sheinsisted.“Tellmeaboutit.Whatisitlike—yourimmortality?”

           AndwhenIhadtoldherofNiflheimandMuspell,ofthebirthofthegiantYmirfromthesnowflakes,ofthecowAndhumbla,andofFenrirandLokiandthefrozenJötuns—asIsay,whenIhadtoldherofallthis,andofThorandOdinandourownValhalla,sheclappedherhandsandcriedout,withsparklingeyes:

           “Oh,youbarbarian!Yougreatchild!Youyellowgiant-thingofthefrost!Youbelieverofoldnursetalesandstomachsatisfactions!Butthespiritofyou,thatwhichcannotdie,wherewillitgowhenyourbodyisdead?”

           “AsIhavesaid,Valhalla,”Ianswered.“Andmybodyshallbethere,too.”

           “Eating?—drinking?—fighting?”

           “Andloving,”Iadded.“Wemusthaveourwomeninheaven,elsewhatisheavenfor?”

           “Idonotlikeyourheaven,”shesaid.“Itisamadplace,abeastplace,aplaceoffrostandstormandfury.”

           “Andyourheaven?”Iquestioned.

           “Isalwaysunendingsummer,withtheyearattheripeforthefruitsandflowersandgrowingthings.

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