Post by account_disabled on Dec 14, 2023 5:08:00 GMT
From the street they glimpsed the light. The sign said this was the Black Elk Inn . She dangled on rusty chains, making a monotonous scraping sound, the wood resisting the snow and frost. A lazy filament of smoke rose from the chimney, losing itself in the inky night. No voices came from inside, but the thirteen ghosts that appeared in front of the building noticed movements and shadows. It was still open. Stekkjastaur grabbed the handle, but was blocked by Giljagaur. “Wait,” said the brother. “How do we pay?” «And when has this ever been a problem for us?», asked Stúfur.
It might become one in the long run, though,” Þvörusleikir replied. “You damn sissies,” Pottasleikir shouted. “Calm down,” Askasleikir said. "Let's think." "What do you propose?" asked Hurðaskellir. "Shouldn't we have eaten something?" asked Skyrgámur. “Actually one should have drunk a glass,” Bjúgnakrækir pointed out. “Eat, drink, as long as you enter, by Phone Number Data Grýla and Leppalúði!”, cursed Gluggagægir. “Or we'll freeze here!” “I'm thirsty, but I would also eat a bite,” confessed Gáttaþefur. "We've now digested the snack from earlier." «Yes, but who pays?», Ketkrókur asked irritably. “I have an idea,” Kertasníkir offered. "Let's go in and then think about it." The proposal was accepted unanimously. They entered.
There were few people inside. A couple of farmers, dozing over half-empty mugs of beer. An old man with a beard chewing something. Three or four craftsmen discussing the end of the world. No one spared the thirteen brothers a glance. Except the innkeeper. “Welcome,” he said smiling. He was a thin, skinny guy, he looked like a dry fir branch, but the thirteen liked him. "Please take a seat," and he pointed them to a long table in the east wing of the room. They sat down. "A few beers to start with?" he asked with a wink.
It might become one in the long run, though,” Þvörusleikir replied. “You damn sissies,” Pottasleikir shouted. “Calm down,” Askasleikir said. "Let's think." "What do you propose?" asked Hurðaskellir. "Shouldn't we have eaten something?" asked Skyrgámur. “Actually one should have drunk a glass,” Bjúgnakrækir pointed out. “Eat, drink, as long as you enter, by Phone Number Data Grýla and Leppalúði!”, cursed Gluggagægir. “Or we'll freeze here!” “I'm thirsty, but I would also eat a bite,” confessed Gáttaþefur. "We've now digested the snack from earlier." «Yes, but who pays?», Ketkrókur asked irritably. “I have an idea,” Kertasníkir offered. "Let's go in and then think about it." The proposal was accepted unanimously. They entered.
There were few people inside. A couple of farmers, dozing over half-empty mugs of beer. An old man with a beard chewing something. Three or four craftsmen discussing the end of the world. No one spared the thirteen brothers a glance. Except the innkeeper. “Welcome,” he said smiling. He was a thin, skinny guy, he looked like a dry fir branch, but the thirteen liked him. "Please take a seat," and he pointed them to a long table in the east wing of the room. They sat down. "A few beers to start with?" he asked with a wink.