"Think not that our lord will be frightened by such words," he retorted. "You have asked for doom, and doom you shall have."
He turned to go, but Tyr, the brooding berserk, stepped in front of him.
"You know me, Utgar," said Tyr in a slow, bitter voice. "Look for me in tomorrow's battle. I will look for you."
"Come and find me, then, Aesir," laughed Utgar savagely. "Too long have I heard of your valor. Tomorrow I'll test it with my sword."
Utgar strode proudly out of the hall, Heimdall following. In the silence, we heard the Jotun king gallop across Asgard to Bifrost Bridge.
"Let the feast go on," bade Odin at last. Drinking commenced again, the fierce babble of voices arising. My head spun from the mead that I had drunk as the hours went by. Freya sat silent, close inside the circle of my arm, looking up ever and again at my face. I saw Odin brooding as he watched his people make merry on the brink of dreadful war. Pride in these Aesir, gratitude that they allowed me to be one of them, filled me.
The first light of dawn began slanting through the windows. Bragi stepped forward with his harp, and all voices died as the gentle-faced skald touched the quivering strings. His clear voice rang martial-loud through Valhalla.
Now comes the great hour
When Norn-spinners gather
The fate-threads of warriors