Four of us are going to Sigrid Bjornsdottir and Thorstein Olafsson's wedding. The man who brought us here has gone. The island is grave-still. The church is small but the people here are happy, special. They're people forgotten, disappeared, lost. Today they don't care. The mountains were here before us. The mountains have witnessed a million weddings. Why now? Why do you want to come here now? We want, I think, to resurrect Sigrid and Thorstein.
The church was built on a graveyard: it's partially collapsed as a result. There's a barn over there, a byre, houses. If you listen closely enough, you can hear the boasts of the men, the keen whispers of the women. If you look closely enough, you can see the pride on Bjorn's and on Olaf's face. Pick up that cup: there's plenty of ale and mead. There are breads, a stew. Stick the plate on your lap. The meat is seal, beef, mutton. Dance if you want. Swim.
Huginn and Muminn are watching the ceremonies from up there. Thought and Memory. They'll let Odin know what we're up to. And they'll follow us back to the town.