Loki: Why I Began the End Page 4

  “Fresh air, free of dysfunction, suspicion, and lurking hostilities?” I nodded. “Midgard isn’t that, but certainly better than Asgard.”

  He chuckled.

  As he passed by, I stepped in his way to halt him. As I improvised more conversation, I subtly backed him up near the edge of the bridge. “What do you even do in Midgard? Just walk around? Appraise the alehouses? You don’t strike me as that type.”

  “I hunt, mainly. Sometimes I watch the humans at their sporting events, or carving out ships, or whatever work they do.”

  I grinned. “You’re joking.”

  “No. It can be interesting to see what they do with their time. It’s surprising how hardworking and resourceful they are.”

  As we delved into it, I backed him up on top of Jor’s head, which was level with the bridge, and also made room for myself. And while we continued to talk, Tyr unknowing, Jor smoothly glided through the water with only a light breeze. He didn’t stop until he was miles away along a riverbank near Nidavellir. I then bid Tyr farewell with a pat on the back. He took one step and fell into the river. Jor and I then also dove into the river, and as I grabbed hold around his neck, he darted us through the water nearly a mile away, so that when Tyr surfaced from the water, we were nowhere in sight, and he was completely baffled as to where he was and how he got there.

  Jor and I, out of sight, watched as Tyr swam to shore, wrung out his clothes, and stared around in bewilderment. We stifled our laughter as Tyr massaged his head and pinched his arm, expecting it to clear his madness, only to find he was still far from Asgard and Bifrost.

  But Jor and I never were good at keeping quiet. Soon, my squawks and his clucks betrayed our hiding place. Tyr looked over to where we were hiding and ran over as fast as he could.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Neither Jor nor myself could stop laughing enough to explain. The best we could do was alternate words, and between our broken statements, it was all out. Ah, we still just couldn’t stop laughing! And soon it caught on with Tyr, who collapsed into laughter right along with us.

  He always was a good sport. Jor chose his pranks—and victims—well.

  Ah, yes. That was a great one. My visits with Jor were never dull.

  But neither were my visits with Hel. She was always full of interesting conversation, the likes of which I could never find anywhere else, but hers always came from the beneath-the-world point of view—the angle from which the underworld views the rest of the universe. Some would call it cynical, but it was really based off a higher awareness of true importance. She had little pity for those who suffered a poor quality of life, not accepting it as an excuse for a poor quality of spirit. She said it was because, as the soul is an immortal thing, a person should not concern themselves with trivial mortal matters. A person should not change their soul to suit another. And other such ideals that have been lost for centuries.

  And through whatever deeply serious conversations we would have, she would always—though she would never admit it—rely on me to make her laugh. She was proud of herself and of her role in the underworld, but her life was—I could tell—stagnant and lonely. So I knew that, even if she at times looked at my behavior as crude or undignified, she appreciated it.

  But I wasn’t her only savior—as you well know. She does have attendants, and there was one in particular who was invaluable as her companion. That attendant was Sigyn—you.

  I almost can’t believe how long it took for us to meet. I had visited my daughter for several months without ever meeting you, only hearing about you. When Hel said that you were an Aesir, I had in mind the typical perfection—the beauty that all mortals strive for, and that all Aesir are expected to have. Yes, they’re beautiful, but from one to the next, their beauty seems commonplace. But you…When I first saw you approaching, I didn’t think you were Aesir. You had all the genuine, natural beauty of the world that was humble, yet at the same time, so far above any Aesir.

  You only stayed long enough to deliver a brief report to Hel, so we only had time to speak our names and exchange glances. I was glad, because for the first time, I had absolutely no idea what to say. I would have committed my first verbal bungle in history.

  Our first conversation wasn’t for some time after that, not until my next visit—which was the following week. I remember that at first, Hel was surprised to see me again so soon, but in a blink, she understood. She was an expert at reading people, and not because of godly-born or acquired powers like Odin, but because of her vast experience in observing people. And when I knew that she knew, I’m sure she read my embarrassment. She made a sudden excuse of having an appointment elsewhere, leaving me alone in her council chamber.

  Then you came in. “Oh. Excuse me. I thought Hel would be in here.”

  “She just left, said she had an appointment,” I blabbed.

  “Did she say where?”

  “With the dragon Nidhogg…I think.” Then you were about to leave, so I added, “But she said she’d be right back here when she’s through…so you could…wait…”

  For whatever reason, you did decide to wait there in the room with me.

  Do you regret it now?

  Wanting to crash the silence between us, I asked, “So what is it that brought an Aesir to work with Hel down here? I mean, have you always been down here?”

  “Why? You don’t think an attendant of the underworld is a worthy occupation for an Aesir?”

  “Oh, no-no-no, I…” Then I noticed a glimmer in your eyes—you were joking. I decided to venture a joke in return: I turned up my nose and spoke in a superfluous tone, “An Aesir would never dirty their divine lungs with this fetid air.”

  And that was the first time I heard you laugh. It at first shot through my pulse like a dart, then left me weightless. You then explained, “I needed to leave Asgard and feel useful for a change. All I ever used to do as an Aesir was…well, nothing. You know how it is there. Life there is not so much about purpose as it is about pleasure. I was growing bored of it. So when Odin suggested the need for delegation and organization down here, I offered myself for the task.”

  “My daughter appreciates you very much.”

  You then leaned in toward me confidentially and remarked, “To own the truth, Odin was to make Hel my attendant. But she had such natural skill for leadership, that I insisted she take reign. And it has been an honor to serve her.”

  Despite my uncharacteristic shyness at that time, I couldn’t help but take advantage of how close you were to me—I pulled you close to engulf you in a kiss. As expected, you pulled away, struck me across the face, and left the room.

  Then I burst out laughing. I don’t even know why, but I did. It was the strangest thing, but I really couldn’t stop laughing. I think it was a symptom of all the bizarrely new emotions surging through me—they needed an outlet. Because, well, my instinctive outlet had been interrupted by a hand coming at my face.

  When the sting eased, I made another visit. You weren’t afraid of me; didn’t even seem angry at me. We even managed some hours of conversation with each other—I talked about my sons, you talked about my daughter, and we talked about our similar slanted views of Asgard and the Aesir. And it all flowed so easily, like we’d been living in foreign countries all our lives, and finally encountered someone who spoke our native language.

  After hearing so much of Jor and Fenrir, you said how you wanted to meet them, and it immediately became my life goal to see that you were introduced to both of them. Of course, meeting Fenrir meant going to Asgard, which you weren’t too anxious about. But Hel, being the amazing daughter she is, convinced you to go along with me. Maybe that’s one reason not to regret knowing me—because it was obvious that you hadn’t left the underworld in a long time. When we stepped up into Midgard, with sunshine, blue sky, green grass, trees, you came completely to life. You became more animated, more humorous—you even challenged me to footraces several times, cheating a great deal of the time. Y
ou did so! But it doesn’t matter, anyway; you could have beaten me without cheating. I could only ever run if it was towards an alehouse or away from a vengeful victim.

  And I was a gentleman the whole time. Okay…okay, yes, there may have been some innuendos, some double entendres, but for the most part, I was a gentleman—as far as I go, anyway.

  Fenrir was happy to meet you. I didn’t think he believed you were an Aesir, either, until I told him. You also insisted on seeing Odin, saying that while in Asgard, he was like a father to you. However much I resent the man now, I do understand that sort of attachment to him. At the time, he was overseeing the construction of a new meadhouse.

  “You’re back just in time, Loki,” he said.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  “An honorary afterlife for those who die in battle in my name. It will be called Valhalla.”

  You said, “That’s a lovely name.”

  “Here are the plans.” He unrolled the parchments to show us. “The walls will be made of spears, and the roof of shields. And the gates will be large enough to fit eight hundred men walking side-by-side. All of it gold.”

  “That’s huge,” I remarked. “Are you expecting Jotun?”

  I could tell he didn’t appreciate that joke, but I think I saw you smirk a little.

  “Wait…” I finally realized. “All of it gold? All of it? Where are you going to get it all?”

  “That’s why you’re back just in time, Loki.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, yes, what am I doing?”

  “You will procure the gold from the Rhine.”

  You and I exchanged glances, thinking that, for once in his life, Odin was out of his gourd. “You want me to steal the gold from the Rhine River?” I asked. “Even if I can trick the Rhine Maidens, their Father’s sure to get murderous if he finds out.”

  Odin just slapped me on the back and said, “If anyone can do it, Loki, it’s you.”

  I just shook my head. “I’m not going to stick out my neck for some shiny mausoleum.”

  He turned to look at us both with his one eye. “Do this for me, brother, and I will sanctify marriage between you and Sigyn.”

  “I’ll do it.” My brain finally caught up with me, and I could see that you resented the suggestion. After all, it wasn’t his decision to make. Turning to you, I tried to cover my mistake: “I mean, I’ll do it, but just for something to think about. It’s not like a contract, or anything. More like a…just-in-case…sort of thing…”

  You didn’t say a word, just stood there like a statue. I was so embarrassed, that I left right away toward the Bifrost Bridge, cursing Odin with every step. I was about halfway across when I heard someone walking along behind me—it was you.

  “You really don’t have to,” you said. “It’s just another display of the Aesir materialism. You shouldn’t risk your life for a drinking house made of gold—or for me.”

  I shrugged and said, “I would never risk my life for things like that. That’s not my style. I’m just doing it for kicks. It gets boring up there in Asgard, you know.”

  “Yes, I do know.” Then I felt you link your arm in mine. “You don’t need to make a deal with Odin to get married.”

  “Well…I do need his blessing, actually. He is my blood-brother.”

  “Who are you going to marry—him or me?”

  I theatrically scratched my chin. “Let me consider that awhile.”

  With a grin, you shoved me aside. “Go soak your head in the Rhine.”

  “Only if you’ll join me.”

  In the end, of course you know, I decided to steal the Rhine gold. Once again, Odin’s power took precedence. I had the chance to bring something into my life that had his approval—a rare opportunity. And it just so happened that it was something important to me.

  CHAPTER FIVE: THE RHINE GOLD

  I knew that getting past the Rhine Maidens would be a cinch for me. I just needed to bring along Jor, and while they all cooed over him, I could steal the gold. The only difficulty was in the actual stealing—it was a lot of gold, at least ten fistfuls measured by mountain giant hands. And it all had to be transported up the bridge and to the construction site in Asgard. I could have worked from dawn to dusk and not moved it all. It had to be done quickly, and I couldn’t do it alone.

  I took my thoughts one step at a time. First, I borrowed the net from the sea goddess Ran, the net that never breaks and never releases its prey. I knew it could help in retrieving the gold from the bottom of the river. Second, I employed Thor and—against my grain—Heimdall. Though I loathed Ram Boy Heimdall, he and Thor were the only ones I knew who possessed the strength able to haul up the nets filled with gold.

  The third point was the most difficult: transport. Thor and Heimdall couldn’t just drag the net up the bridge to Asgard with each catch. Even with their strength, it would take too long—and I couldn’t be sure their strength would last. I needed a vehicle, but one that could move over water and land. Thor’s chariot was out—too small. A rowboat wouldn’t be enough. Then I thought of that ship I had received from the dwarfs, the one that folded to fit in my pocket. I tested it when I was visiting Jor and explaining his role in my plan. Taking the piece out of my pocket, I tossed it into the air, and as it hit the ground, it unfolded into a ship made of dark wood. There were no masts, no sails, yet as soon as I boarded it and took the helm, it glided along at exactly the paced I wanted. It also drifted effortlessly from the sea surface to the grassy ground, not jerking or slowing as it sailed across the earth. I wasn’t sure if it had enough capacity for all the gold, but it was my best bet.

  The next day, at dawn, Thor and Heimdall and I waited near the bank of the Rhine as Jor made his timely arrival at the opposite end of the river. The Rhine Maidens cried and cooed, swimming over to him. As soon as the area was clear, I tossed the ship onto the water’s surface. I was afraid at first that it might form too large and attract attention, but it grew to a modest size to perfectly accommodate the river’s width. Without further ado, we boarded the ship, and Thor and Heimdall got to work casting out Ran’s net and bringing up the gold. My actual physical participation was minimal—I mostly hoarded the gold into the bowels of the ship and kept my senses alert for the Rhine Maidens and their father.

  Jor was excellent. He stepped outside his usual comfort to keep the Rhine Maidens well distracted, holding lengthy conversations and throwing compliments their way if they threatened to look around. And the ship held up fantastically, never sinking with the extra weight, and never running out of room for our stolen gold. I could tell that Thor and Heimdall were tiring and beginning to struggle as it came into the afternoon, but they dug deep and didn’t let themselves slow until the final net full of gold was on the deck of the ship, just at sunset. I pat them on the back and took the helm, directing the vessel off the river and up the bridge. When Jor saw us crossing, he sighed in relief and abruptly ducked underwater to escape his vapid admirers.

  I did thank him, didn’t I? I’m fairly sure I thanked him.

  That night, the builders got all the gold they needed, and that night, Odin joined you and me in marriage. And the wedding night, well…let’s just sit back and remember that. Or better yet, we could re-enact it. No really, the story can wait. Or I could tell the story as we…although the venom would probably hit you. Never mind.

  I expected the Rhine Maidens would notice their gold was gone. However, I didn’t expect their Father to appear in Asgard the next day. How he got past Heimdall, the bridge’s guard, is still a mystery—though I suspect he thought that the Rhine Father was going to blame me and exact vengeance on me, which would have been just fine with Ram Boy. But the Rhine Father was smarter than that, and went straight to the source: Odin. At the time, you may remember, Odin was asking us indecent questions about our wedding night, and we were answering with completely different topics: “No, I don’t think it will rain today”, “I think the geese migration begins next week”, and so on.

&
nbsp; At first sight, I didn’t know who he was. He looked somewhat like Odin, but with two eyes, dripping wet, with sand in his beard. But when he demanded, “Relinquish my daughters’ gold!” it was obvious.

  Odin remained cool, as always, and replied, “That gold was stolen from the humans to begin with. It cursed them. It will be put to good, safe use now, out of the hands of temptation.”

  “My daughters will have their gold returned, or the gold will curse you!”

  Odin only shook his head in somber refusal.

  The Rhine Father was just as resolved to his own task. “You will lose a precious treasure until mine is returned.” Then he grabbed your wrist. “Freya is mine!” With that, both you and he disappeared, leaving nothing but a splash of water in a puddle on the ground.

  I futilely shouted, “No! She’s not Freya!” but of course he couldn’t hear me; he was already gone—and so were you. I then began shouting at Odin, “Just give them their stupid gold back!”

  “It’s all been melted down,” Odin said. “It will be no use to them now.”

  “It’s as useful as it was before, lying stagnant at the bottom of the river. It can do that in any form!”

  He just pat me on the shoulder and said, “This is a challenge I am certain you can subdue, brother.”

  “Challenge? This isn’t a challenge, this is the Rhine Father abducting my wife because you want a big, shiny tavern for dead people!”

  Odin remained completely sober as he said, “And what of Iduna’s abduction? She’s someone’s wife, stolen for some shiny apples. Was that more than a challenge to you?”

  I just tried to shrug off his little lesson by saying, “Not really even a challenge.” But the look in his eye was finite: It was obvious that Odin wasn’t going to do anything. As usual, it was up to me. But I didn’t have a plan of any kind. I couldn’t conceive any level of deception that I could employ against the Rhine Father. The only plan I could think of was to restore the gold taken from his daughters—if not from Vallahalla, then from wherever I could get it.