By L. Sprague de Camp & Fletcher Pratt
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Well, look here, Heimdall, what's all this —" "Children of men use the titles or call me sir," said Heimdall severely and rather pompously. " Heimdall Looked down his long nose and condescended a smile that showed the gold teeth. "To me this familiarity is not unpleasant, for I have also been called the Friend of Men.
He eyed Shea narrowly a moment. " "Travelling in those light clothes this far north. " Again he gave Shea that curiously intent glance, as though trying to ravel some secret out of him. Shea asked: "This is May, isn't it? " The man Sverre moved his shoulders in a gesture of bafflement. "Mought, and then mought not. Men say this would be the Fimbulwinter. " Shea would have put a question of his own, but Sverre had turned away grumpily. He got rid of his clammy shorts instead, turning to note that Sverre had picked up his wrist watch.
For one brief second both the girl and Thjalfi stared at him. Then both burst into shrieks of laughter, Aud staggering back towards the wall, Thjalfi rolling his head forward on his arms. Shea sat staring, red with embarrassment, the halfeaten chop in his hand. He hardly noticed that the four men at the other side of the table were looking at him till the big red-headed man boomed out: "Good is the wit when men's children laugh before the Æsir! " Thjalfi, making no effort to control himself, managed to gasp out: "The .