“I know that you say you are Gunnlaugr,” answers Hanna, equally determined, “And I know that Gunnlaugr is simply a corruption of Gangleri. Gangleri the walk-weary?”

Gunnlaugr laughs off Hanna’s words. He gathers his companions together and takes a step forward. Hanna holds him back with the power that she draws through herself and out through the palms of her hands.

“Do you prefer Gyrdir? That’s what’s the Alfar call you. Svipal maybe? Vak or Ygg? Bolverk maybe suits you better.” Hanna takes a slow, deliberate step closer, gritting her teeth in anger, “The Þurs don’t call you anything other than what you are. How many names do you have Ódinn?”

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