Hammered

village was remarkably clean, in fact, almost artistically so, without any of the squalor or refuse that one might expect from people fond of saying graah . There was a large communal fire pit in the center of the village, but it looked like it had not been used in some time. Perhaps, I reflected, all the human bones were buried in the snow, along with the missing squalor and refuse.
    Everyone seemed to be enjoying a quiet night at home. The snow-lined main promenade was deserted, but orange glows from inside the houses and chimney smoke spoke of warm fires inside. For all of its idyllic appearance, however, the giants’ village did nothing to put our party at ease. We were half expecting an ambush.
    » Where is everybody? « I asked Suttung.
    » Graah. Hiding from Odin’s spies. Hugin and Munin have been visiting too often the last few days. «
    How very interesting. Had they perhaps been looking for me there? » We should probably get indoors soon. It would not do to have them see us now. «
    » We are here. « Suttung stopped in front of a house no larger than the others, marked by nothing spectacular to set it off from any other house. Granted, all of the houses were huge, but there were no special ice carvings around this one’s door; no skulls on a spearhead; no helpful sign saying that the chief was in. My ambush alarm went off and I checked our surroundings. Leif and Gunnar and Zhang Guo Lao also set themselves facing outward, watching for incoming attacks. Perun and Väinämöinen looked unconcerned. But no cadre of camouflaged giants appeared with spears in hand; no frozen Nordic zombies leapt out to snack on our brains.
    Maybe Hrym wasn’t the chief right now. I’d asked Suttung to take us to him specifically because he was the giant who was supposed to lead all the frost Jötnar in Ragnarok. As such, I figured his word would carry some weight with the others.
    » This is where Hrym lives? « I asked.
    » Yes. You’d better hope he’s not hungry. « Suttung pounded twice on the door before swinging it open. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I expected to see Hrym sitting on a massive ice throne and holding a spear in one hand while a polar bear lounged at his feet, keeping his toes snuggly and warm. In his other hand he’d have a colossal tankard of mulled cider or maybe some honeyed mead. Some sort of chamberlain figure would be waiting attentively behind the throne, and there would be servants and courtiers and a long table set with meats and cheeses and freshly baked loaves of bread.
    Instead, we saw two giants squelching noisily in what I cannot help but call a monstrous fuckpuddle.

Chapter 22
    There are some sights that, once seen, can never be unseen. They replay themselves on a loop in your mind’s home-theatre system with Dolby surround sound until you’re so desperate to be rid of them that you’ll resort to other loops simply to dislodge them for a while.
    The long table I’d been expecting to see was actually there. Hrym had mounted his partner on top of it; they’d made little effort to clear away the trays of food or the spilled tankards of mead, and they were completely oblivious to the fact that they were now humping in front of a live audience. I am not sure they would have stopped for our benefit in any case.
    » Graah, « Hrym said. Slap-slap-slap .
    » Graah, « his partner said. Slap-slap-slap .
    Suttung did his best to close the door again both quickly and discreetly, but the damage to my psyche had already been done. Recognizing the danger, I closed my eyes and began to sing: » › The farmer in the dell, the farmer in the dell, hi-ho the derry-o, the farmer in the dell. The farmer takes a wife ‹ — oh, bugger, that won’t do at all! Help me, guys, help me, I need a different song! «
    » What are you on about, Atticus? « Gunnar asked.
    » I need a vastly irritating, mind-numbing song to sing that will prevent me from reliving what I just saw. I have an intense need to forget it. «
    » Oh, excellent plan. I’m with you, « Gunnar said, every bit as disturbed as I was. » How about › El Paso ‹ by Marty Robbins? «
    » That’s good, it’s a catchy tune, but it won’t reduce us to catatonia quickly enough. «
    » I have it! « Väinämöinen said, unexpectedly chiming in. » › It’s a Small World, After All .‹ «
    » That’s perfect! « I cried. » That’s just the tonic we need in a land of giants! Everybody, on three. « Soon the six of us were