“Now, kinsmen, I will tell you of the sea-giant Ægir, who dwells beneath the waves in a hall of gleaming gold. Though he is of the jotnar, he is friend to the gods, and no feast in all the Nine Worlds could match the one he set for them. His hearth-fire was the sea’s own glow, his floor bright as treasure, and his ale flowed without end.

Yet to fill his cauldron, Ægir required a vessel vast beyond imagining. It was said no brewing pot in all the worlds could contain such ale—save for the cauldron of the giant Hymir, so mighty that a man might sail in it as though it were a ship. To fetch this prize, Thor took up his hammer and set out, facing perils enough to break lesser gods. In Hymir’s hall, he tested his strength against the giant’s challenges: hauling monstrous beasts from the deep, shattering goblets of enchanted glass, and at last seizing the great cauldron itself. With laughter and thunder, Thor bore it back, so that Ægir’s feast could begin.

In Ægir’s hall, the gods drank deep, their horns overflowing, and songs rose that carried the weight of fate and the joy of fellowship. Here was told the greatness of Thor, the cunning of Loki, the wisdom of Odin, and the glory of the Æsir, woven together in laughter, mead, and the unbreakable bond of the gods’ fellowship.

And so, friends, this tale carries us to our own feasting place. Here in Vigra stands the tavern hut, where the quest ends, and where you may lay down your burdens. Within its timbered walls, you may sit as the gods once sat, raise a tankard of mead as they once did, and remember the stories we have shared. For every hall, no matter how small, becomes a hall of Ægir when the people within it lift their voices together.

Thus ends the trail of six tales, carried on sand, ice, stone, timber, and sea. Rest now in the tavern, for you have walked the paths of myth and mortal ground alike. Let your heart be light, your cup full, and your ears still ringing with the sagas of the North.”

The skald smiled, his voice dropping to a hush. “Here, in this hut, the journey ends. But the stories? They will live as long as the mead is sweet and the songs are sung.”