While I am trying to comfort Amleth, the other young man with us comes back to consciousness with a jolt. A quick glance tells me he has no life-threatening injuries. A smile spreads on my face - it hurts, for the battering I took as much as the disuse of those muscles, but it is a good hurting.

"YOU!" I bellow, glaring at him. "We thought you were dead! What did you think you were doing, lad? How on Midgard did you get so beaten up? Now let us fix you up, or you are not going anywhere. And you have to eat something, too." Now that I think of it, I am hungry.

Gods! ...or whatever is left of them! Now I have to look after *two* kids. The story of my life. No peace for this old Goth...