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♫ Answers From Within ♫
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I enter the corridor of the Aesir. I have traveled a long way to reach the Senior Residence of the Retired Gods, and to be granted entry, I had to hand over my entire travel budget to the director. (n her defense: Since these gods are mostly just crossword clues now, homes like this are starved for subsidies.)
I am plagued by the concern that I might run out of ideas, after more than a hundred and thirty entries for a collection of texts opening with the same sanctimonious words: “I enter the corridor.” (The collection is intended to comprise nearly 400 of these accounts, which means I haven’t even finished a third.) Here, however, I hope for new inspiration and a cornucopia of equally surprising and profound ideas; it should be more than worth the effort to seek advice and support from the old, worldly-wise goddess of sagas and stories. It’s likely been a long time since a skald visited her.
“Sága” is written on the small sign next to the door. I have reached my destination and knock boldly. After a moment, I hear footsteps, and a sharp female voice asks if I have brought an offering. “No,” I call out through the door. I come, I add by way of explanation, from an enlightened, scientific age.
“No offering, no information,” is the reply, and the tone leaves no room for argument. The footsteps move away.
Rats!
In this, the old and the new gods are much alike: they always wind up throwing you back on yourself.
Sága: 
Skald: