Yngvildr opens her eyes to a dim twilight. Her head is spinning, her back aches and she feels awfully sick.
"Where am I"? She carefully sits up, noticing she has obviously spent the night on a wooden bench. Little by little her eyes adjust to the meagre light and she is able to make out the bodies of several others, still fast asleep. The air is foetid, heavy with the smells of drink and sweat. As she looks down on herself, she notices she is dressed in her finest clothes, though they are no longer fine now, but crumpled and stained. Slowly it occurs to her that there must have been a festival…

She gets up, stumbles to the door and goes outside. She deeply inhales the crisp, clear air, takes two handfuls of snow and rubs her face and arms. "Oh, this is good! But the sun is already about to set, oh my, did I really sleep all day?" She racks her brains, but she cannot remember anything that happened the night before. Yes, there was the great festival and yes, she and several others went to the Red Boar afterwards to bring a piece of the Yule Log to Bruni for her to light her kitchen fires again. But she has no memories of anything else.

The young woman turns around and as she returns to the room, she leaves the door open. The cold, fresh air seems to awaken at least one or two of the others. "This is good", Yngvildr thinks, "just look at this mess – we need to help Bruni, she will never manage to get this cleared up all on her own. If only someone could tell me what happened!"