Freyr found his limbs were a lot wobblier than he'd remembered, but then, he had been twisted up like a pretzel for six months. His joints hurt with the weight of his body on them, and he had to hold onto Freyja more than he'd thought.
"It worked my gardens?" All his friends, his community, had they been hurt or insulted in any way? Had the beast done his job properly? "By Odin's eye I feel insulted by this impersonation. Taking my entire life..."
When they got to the bathroom, Freyja had to help Freyr get in, but he sank down with a long groan of relief. The heat on his joints and his cold bones was so satisfying, and such a relief.