Original subtitles

Now hear of myths.

And men.

And memory.

Tales told in the dark.

Ah.

He praises you, The Weeping.

Says you put up a good fight at Hoenir's shrine,

but it will be better to fight by your side.

Do you think we'll see the Dancing Lights?

You will.

And if you eat these, you'll see much more besides.

Go slow.

No need. We dwarves grew up on these.

Is there a man here who'll give us a story?

- Speak, storyteller. - Who will speak?

It's good luck to hear a story before battle.

Then let us tell many in turns.

Now hear the fable of Fenja and Menja.

Sisters sold to a sea-king.

Who were taken in shackles aboard the king's ship

and chained to a magic millstone.

They were made to grind salt and never to stop.

So they did what mortals do.

In their time of sorrow, they sang a song

and told a story true.

They sang of the mountains, their motherland.

They were giants bred and born.

The king hoarded the salt for hungry times

and demanded even more.

It was not for the eating,

but to salt the earth,

to ruin the realms of his foes.

As the women kept at their weary work,

the ocean frothed and foamed.

The longship cracked in the currents!

And still, the sisters ground.

Their turning wheel, it churned the waves,

and the slaver king... did drown.

The ship, it sank.

And the women, they sang.

For they were finally free.

It is said the great mill is grinding there still,

which is why there is salt in the sea.

Wow.

My father used to tell me that story at bedtime.

Who else has a giant's tale?

I do.

Now... hear of Odin's wall!

The wall we'll smash tomorrow!

For what's giant-built can be giant-broken!

It was long ago,

after Odin's first fortress had fallen to the golden Vanir.

The Aesir needed a new wall.

A builder came to the gods.

He would make them a wall that none could break or scale.

They asked his price.

Came the answer, the sun, the moon, and Freya's hand in marriage.

Enter Loki.

He brokered a deal, and the deal was this.

Finish the wall, with no help,

and in a third of the time proposed,

and the sun, moon,

and Freya would be given.

All winter the builder hauled

pieces of mountain.

Only his horse, Svadilfari, was allowed to aid him.

But to the Aesir's horror, he moved quickly.

Freya raved.

She'd not be traded as a concubine. Not again.

But Baldr came to her with a suspicion.

Perhaps the man was more than he seemed.

Perhaps he was a giant.

Enter Loki.

He offered to cheat.

And well he should, the gods agreed, for he'd made this deal.

And if they lost the sun and moon and Freya,

they'd have Loki's head a'spitted.

Enter Loki,

who appeared to Svadilfari as a beautiful mare.

The stallion smelled her heat, and so,

entered Loki.

The giant,

for indeed, the builder was a giant...

...could not finish without his horse.

The Aesir laughed,

delighted to have got their wall for free.

And when the giant protested their treachery...

...he died by a hammer...

...as so many giants have.

Enter Loki,

who returned months later with a strange young colt he'd mothered.

He gave the horse to Odin as a gift.

And the gods learned

that Loki was willing to fuck even himself

if it was to his advantage.

So our Egill has a patron god!

Egill, when you make love, are you the stallion or the mare?

You want to know if I like being fucked?

You want to know how it feels?

I'll tell you how it feels.

Now hear of Egill and his duel.

I have carvings for sale.

Graven gods for worship! Chessmen!

Fetishes for luck and love!

Each one comes with a story!

Ow! Help! Please!

Somebody help!

Stop! I'm begging you, please! Stop!

It's all right. They've gone.

My name is Odric. Odd.

It's a healing cup.

The runes will help you.

So my grandfather would say.

He died last year.

Are they magic?

My grandfather said the best wood for magic comes from driftwood.

If you see two pieces wash ashore together, it's a sign.

Because man and woman were made from driftwood. At the beginning.

Uh...

It's just a story.

We were friends.

And then, a few weeks later,

we were more.

Odd's brother stood as my accuser.

I had seduced Odd, he claimed.

The lawspeakers say a man may fuck another in conquest,

but not in love.

And scorn come to him who's taken.

Ergi, I was called.

Unmanly.

This man lies,

and I call him a liar!

I will prove it with a sword and cut the lies from his throat!

The duel was to be a holmgang.

There was an island nearby reserved for such contests.

My father came as my second.

He was proud.

- Show him what you're made of. - This is the honorable thing.

Here we go.

Come on! Come on! Get up!

He's ready to fight!

Punish him!

Finish him!

- Yes! - Did you see that?

My knife had carved true.

As always.

And so I proved my virtue.

I'm sorry, my friend.

Time now.

It is time.

You are sure?

There will be violence soon.

You will need strength.

- I can give it. - Then give it.

Give me the story you keep locked away.

The cold.

The air was cold, and the child was cold, and his blood was cold.

Ulfr saved the boy,

saved him from a wolf.

And Ulfr had a wolf's skin,

and he gave it to the child.

Ulfr made a fire for the child, made the child look and smile,

but the cold still came, and the fire was cold...

...and cold, and Ulfr was cold!

But the child's blood was warm.

And his blood was in the fire,

and the blood smoked gold.

Ulfr ate,

and the wolf skin was back on Ulfr's shoulders.

Ulfr was warm, and the meat was warm.

It was warm in Ulfr's mouth and in his gut,

and the warmth was gold,

and it was gold.

And it was gold.

But the gold was blood,

and the gold was death,

and the wolf skin ate Ulfr.

Ulfr ate the child!

Ulfr was a wolf!

Egill.

I live...

a bad life.

I want to die better.

You shall have that chance.

It's too much.

Hervor!

Hervor.

You're safe.

It's all right.

There is... so much out there.

How are you so... calm?

Because dwarves know their mushroom.

What are you looking at?

Oh. I need to run.

And what about you?

Will you tell one?

I have no stories.

I've seen a score of winters. I've seen monsters.

I've seen gods up close, but...

in the stories,

I am never the point.

I want to hear one of yours.

One that tells me why my luck is thrown in with damned fools and Hel-chasers.

All right. Then you'll have one.

Now hear of the girl whose feet could not touch the floor.

This girl was half-giant,

on her father's side.

And she was her father's daughter in almost every way,

save for one important detail.

She was small for a giant.

There.

A braid fit for a Jötun woman.

When she sat in her family's chairs,

her feet did not touch the floor.

Her feet did not touch the floor at feasting time.

They did not touch the floor when she sat upon her bed.

Nor when she was in the shit-house.

When she got older,

her brothers could easily drink her under the table...

...for the table was as tall as she.

And so, after years and years,

she went to her father...

and asked his leave.

She wished to see her mother's home.

She loved her land and her family, and her foolish, foolish brothers.

But she was different.

She felt alone.

This way. This way.

What's happened?

We are at war.

My mother... My mother was from this village.

Then you're Clan Völsung.

So the girl went to battle.

Seems I owe you my life.

The drink is enough.

Your braid and tattoos...

You hail from somewhere else, woman.

Where?

I come from a place where the chairs are tall as horses.

A place too big for describing.

Too big for me.

Uh-huh.

I don't know what that means.

I do not wish to owe debts to a foreign woman.

What can a prince give you?

The girl stayed.

She fought many battles.

And the years passed.

Leif, I thought we'd...

What's this?

I made something for you.

You built me a chair.

No, I, uh...

I built you a throne.

At least I... I hope you'll make it one. I didn't want to assume, but...

Marry me.

Hmm. Interesting.

I will sit and think the matter over.

She knew then, the moment her feet touched the ground,

she was home.

- Egill, I... - Stop.

Since you returned my hand to me,

I am become Egill One-Hand after all.

This?

This is no longer mine.

It smells of your magic,

and when I run it over my face,

you are touching my face.

Egill...

I must tell you.

Tomorrow...

Don't tell me the future.

Tell me your name.

Áile.

Áile.

Where should your hand go?

Would you like a story of your own?

Yes.

Now hear of Thyra,

the crossroads maid.

Wild, lovely, and chaste...

On the eve of battle,

she brought the leaders of the Völsungs to their knees.

Sharp, this head, and hard-honed.

A haft of... World Tree wood.

A good spear to spike a head.

My eldest begotten is besotted with you.

"The Weeping."

And I see why.

Who are you?

I gave men the mead of poetry.

I'm the Lord of Stories.

My son, the Lord of Storms...

I am warrior and wanderer and wise.

Odin.

Remember what happened to Menja and Fenja,

who sank their ship with salt.

They dealt death, aye.

But then...

...they died.