IN A FARMHOUSE IN MIDGARD, a gathering of men and women whiled away a winter evening; they talked and drank, they sewed and gossiped and sang. Then one of their number got up from his place and stepped across to the flickering fire.
“It’s time I took the chanter’s stool,” Loddfafnir said. “I’ve stood and stared into the Well of Urd, stared in silence, wondered and pondered. For a long while I listened at the door of the High One’s hall, and inside the High One’s hall. This is what I heard.
“Listen, Loddfafnir, and listen carefully! My advice will help you if you heed it; you will prosper if You set proper store by it: never get up at night except to guard your house or relieve yourself in the outhouse.