And as The Mark of the Sea Serpent grows slowly, I find that I know things without thinking of making them up: that frost giants don't like iron but aren't as averse to it as alfar. That they like alder wood much, much less than alfar or humans, so that even Hraesvelg of the Winds doesn't use any alder at all, not on his whole island. That wolf-brothers get seasick more than anyone else. That the time to deal with alfar is not summer, as you would think, but winter, because in winter they are focused on more of the things you are focused on, so you can come to some sorts of agreement without having to rely on force and bindings. (There are almost no alfar in this book, just one in a river. But I find myself knowing these things anyway, in the same matter-of-fact way Soldrun knows them.)
My energy is still well below my average; I'm still running out of steam sooner and more often than before this year, in the afternoons and evenings. My sense of smell is acting up again, and my sinuses are pretty clearly misbehaving, and I'm not sure where all this goes from here, except that I go to the ENT a week from tomorrow. But the book goes on, and I would much rather have all this stuff with a book that's going than with a book that's digging its heels in. I am trying to be content with doing what I can. We'll see.