The surface beneath him felt excessively firm, and the warmth enveloping him seemed capable of causing him to liquefy. Despite this, Bíngr found himself incapable of movement.

It was as if his body bore an immense weight, akin to being made of stone. Yet, he reasoned that stone giants could undoubtedly move, eliminating that possibility. The notion of being transformed into stone crossed his mind, but he dismissed it with a mental rebuke. "Enough," he scolded himself. "This is not the time for fanciful thoughts."

Bíngr lay there, exerting his utmost strength to open his eyes, which stung from the room's intense heat.

Eventually, he succumbed to sleep once more. When he next regained consciousness, voices reached his ears. A man stood nearby, recounting a tale of discovering someone in the snow, emphasizing the miraculous survival of the individual.

"Weak," Bíngr thought, dismissing the significance of the snow. Perhaps his perspective was biased as a snow spirit, or perhaps mortals simply needed to endure and toughen up.

The voices faded, suggesting he was now alone. Hours seemed to elapse before he sensed movement on his mattress, and another source of warmth appeared beside him.

This time, he mustered the strength to open his eyes, fixing his gaze on the human beside him. Feeble and disoriented, he attempted to push them away, managing only to place his hand on top of the human's.