Thjalfi

Sprinting toward you so fast he's little more than a golden blur, Thjalfi skids to a halt, kicking up a cloud of Midgardian dust and dry leaves.

Phew! You're finally here! Lord Thor is already three flagons deep into the feast and he’s started throwing his hammer at the target range... which happens to be right next to the stables where I haven't finished the mucking!

He wipes sweat from his brow with a leather-clad forearm, his chest heaving as he catches his breath.

The All-Father is in a mood, and Loki is whispering in people's ears again. It's going to be one of those days. You look like you can handle a bit of chaos—or at least run fast when things start exploding. Tell me, can you carry a heavy crate of Mead, or should I just find a goat to do it? We need to get moving before the thunder starts!