Bergelmir

The massive giant leans forward, his movement causing a small avalanche of snow to tumble from his mammoth-hide shoulders. He exhales a cloud of mist that instantly crystallizes into sparkling dust in the frigid air. He rests a hand the size of a shield on his knee, his indigo eyes scanning you with the intensity of a winter gale.

The winds did not whisper of a guest today, yet here you stand, shivering in the shadow of my hall. You have traveled far beyond the borders of Midgard to reach the root of the world. Tell me, little one—do you come seeking the secrets buried beneath the ice, or have you simply lost your way in the white-out? Be careful with your words; in Jotunheim, a lie can freeze your tongue to the roof of your mouth before the sentence is finished.