Recollections of Ragnarök

Grace Luopa

Jennifer Brooks

Honor’s Project

HUM 130

SPRING 2021

“I had a friend, and I carried him home—covered in a white sheet. My biggest mistake was that I was not lost with him. How terrifying it must be to die alone… So let us fight together with all our courage” Hugrekki Nedow

“For us elves, you die with your purpose, or you die with the peace that your purpose is fulfilled. Not one elf, man, or beast rests in any realm without a purpose” Ágyl

y name is Hugrekki, the strange Icelandic word meaning “courage”. It’s a name not many people hear, not just because of its rare origins, but because nobody uses it, not even when they speak to the one to whom it belongs: me. Usually, when addressing me, everyone shortens my name; a strange concept I have yet to understand, which is how I came to be referred to by names like, “Hugh”,”Mr. Greki”, and my personal favorite, “Mr. Grey”; for sheer originality. What a surprise, indeed, to hear someone finally use it. But as of the present I merely walked down the same path I took every day; the one from my house into town. Today the snow had piled high in the night, and now a white, glittering landscape opened before me as I finished locking up. It was exceptionally cold, something I would’ve enjoyed when I was young, but now the bits of wind that found its way into my jacket set my joints to ache. I clutched my walking staff down my single stone stair. I liked this stone because, somehow, it never iced. Some say it's because it had been a part of the giant rock which my house was built into many years ago, and sustained heat better than most any other place, but one way or another, I hadn’t the heart to get rid of it. Even though it was quite useless, I felt it protected me, or at least, was a good omen. The road into town was little more than a mile and the early morning snow often covered the tracks from the previous day. None of this made any difference to me, for I had trudged this path for thirty-five years. I knew every tree and every rock, and almost never lost my way. The few times I did, happened only when I made my way back in the dark, when the moon was absent and everything gave a shadow. But this morning was

3 clear, and halfway through my walk, I met the young blacksmith’s apprentice, Levi, on his way to gather stones from the river. “Good day, Mr.Grey, not cold enough for you yet?” he said, with a light expression, his nose a dark shade of pink. “Not quite my boy, not quite,” I said with a chuckle, “Is McGowan finished sharpening that sword I gave him? I could pick it up today on my way back?” “Yeah, he’ll be finished by the end of the day, he told me if I ran into you I should say that you give him quite a lot of trouble for something you never use, and I’ll admit I’d like to know too, why do you always have it sharpened?” “Well, the time will come when I should need that sword, as they say, ‘A coward thinks he will live forever, If only he can shun warfare’ but I suppose you never know, even I grow tired of waiting. Otherwise, I would advise McGowan to mind his business.” I smiled and we exchanged a few more words before I sent him on his way. The rest of the walk was singularly cold, and by the time I reached town, the usual crowd was alight. I passed by the opening doors of the shops lining the cobblestone road to my left, feeling the salty breeze of the ocean to my right on the way towards the harbour. My walk was always the same every day. The plump woman called Tenpenny busied about in her bread shop, to which the whole front wall was glass, plastered with the name “Penny’s Bakery” in bold on the front; fresh loaves sat on display, golden brown. Next door was the Cobbler, whose skinny, gnarled, and long-fingered hands often set me on edge when he held his tools or shook my hand. He was called...well, I often forget his name, mostly because his tall skinny build reminds me of an undertaker, so, regrettably, that is what he is called in my own mind.

There was the cafe which more often than not was serving fish, or fish sticks, fish sandwiches, fish stew, or even fish dumplings, something I smelled too often to be by any means acquainted with it or its owners, but the sign was the biggest on the block, so I never missed the emboldened letters of, “Sal’s Cafe- Serving local fish” swinging on the wooden sign. The only thing I ever heard of the place was that the family who owned it presumably had a very beautiful granddaughter, who was an artist, and her works hung all along the walls. Down the street there was the pub, where every night I saw the lights blazing through the fog from my boat. It was owned by two brothers: the Snardloff’s, one of which was tall and muscular, with an intricate beard and mustache, while the other was rather short and seemed to try and make up for it in width. Even with two heads, they could never decide on a name, so it was simply just “The Pub” to everyone in town. I didn’t care either way, the only time I went by was either to drop off my load of fish, or to receive my pay for the month. No more, but always hopefully less. The last off the stretch, wrapped around the corner at the far end of the street, away from the humid wind of the sea breeze was my personal favorite shop. When I would find free time after turning up empty-handed from hours at sea, I would always find myself here rather than anywhere else in town. The shop belonged to a Book Doctor named Snorri Sturluson, an upright fellow with a long beard and big round glasses, “for seeing the small stitches of the bindings,” he always said. I never knew why, but something about Sturluson made me feel at peace, as if he had an understanding of me that not even I knew the extent of. The rest of the shops on the lane were either of no interest to me, or changed owners so many times I couldn’t keep track. And still farther, the other parts of town were simply for the houses of its inhabitants. As for the blacksmith’s forge, it was on the far side of town, as far out of the way of the sea breeze as McGowan could get. So, the closest thing I had to a

5 friend I never saw on a daily basis, but maybe that was a good thing, because I never had much to say when we did meet. Arriving at my boat at the edge of the dock, I laid down my walking staff and released the boat from its thick ropes tied to the dock. My boat was small, but it worked well for simple fishing jobs. Most people used bigger boats, which always ended up stuck by the ice one way or another, my boat was much more maneuverable. Usually I would have to use a broom to wipe the snow off the cover, but every day since the snow had been heavy, I always found the snow already cleared away. I suspected the Blacksmith apprentice.

When the day was spent and the sun began to set, I rowed through the bits of ice still left in the sea, towards the docks, ready to return home. When the boat was firmly secured to the dock, I looked down at my almost empty net and sighed, seeing my breath cloud in front of me. Swinging the load of fish onto the platform, I climbed out of the boat. The sky was now dark and speckled with stars, and the lights from the pub could be seen at a distance. Putting my hand to my brow, I wiped cold sweat and my eye was drawn into the distance at the corner of the street. There I beheld a dark shadow, a human silhouette, but somehow strange-looking. I rubbed my eyes to try and focus in the dark, but when I looked again, there was only a torch, playing shadows on the ground in a flickering rhythm. ‘It must be sleep, I need sleep,’ I said to myself, and adjusting the load on my shoulder, I made for the pub. Outside of work, I never had any reason to enter the pub, it was too loud, too bright, and combined with the heavy stench of fish, beer, and sweat, one loses touch of all senses, something I imagined wasn’t very good for the mind. Or maybe it was my contempt for people who seemed

6 too satisfied with a life that, to me, seemed meaningless. Regardless, every night I brought my bag of fish to the cooler just outside the back door of the pub, and presently, letting the fish slide from the net into the box of ice, I felt that something was watching me. Closing the lid of the cooler, I slowly turned and looked about. Everything seemed normal, the lamps that lined the lane were all lit just as they were every night, the only strange sight was a raven, perched on the column beside the docks. Its head moved back and forth, as if scanning its surroundings. Suddenly, around the corner, something slammed into the door of the bar. I flattened myself to the wall, looking around the corner. It had only been a man bursting from the bar, probably drunk and on his way home. I took a breath and leaned on the drainpipe that stuck out from the side of the building. I surveyed the docks, making my way again to my boat and depositing my net. I passed by the strange raven I had seen, but it didn’t move. I reached out to shoo it away, and grazed its feathers, but it was wood. The bird had been a statue. ------On my way home, the wind kicked up and the snow poured heavily around me, large flakes in large flurries. Pulling my orange jacket tighter around my chest with one hand, I dug my staff harder into the ground with the other to try and fight through the harsh wind. It wasn’t enough snow to hinder my sight, but just enough to make it more difficult to walk, and the heavy sword that I picked up from McGowan’s now strapped across my back didn’t help matters, even with my boots and staff. But luck seemed to be with me, and I was at the front step of my house sooner than I anticipated. My home is small, made structurally out of the side of a warm rock within the side of a mountain, and when the snow falls well enough, like tonight, all that can be seen are the glowing eyes of the windows, as if it were a frost giant tucked in a cave. I quickly gathered myself inside and

7 hung my coat on the wall behind the door, placed my boots on a towel, and moved through the living room to build myself a fire, just like I did every night I came home. Some things are so routine for me nowadays that I barely realize exactly what I do anymore. The weight lifted from my shoulder as I unstrapped the sword from my back, freshly sharpened and sheathed in leather, to deposit it in its rightful place; at the hook just outside my bedroom steadily awaiting use. I looked strangely at the sword today. It had been in that exact place for a little over thirty years, and it has never moved for action. What if I never needed it again? Could it be that it was becoming an ancient artifact, rather than a useful weapon? I thought for a long while, looking at the blade. This blade represented all that I was, and its days were over it seemed. I unhooked the sword from its place, carrying it in my hands like a burial flag. Latching it to the fireplace, I examined it, “You’re useless now old friend, I’m sorry to say” I prodded the fire once more with the poker and listened to the whistle of the wind from the fireplace. Out the window, the snowstorm raged on and on, something not uncommon for this part of the world, but as the wind howled unceasingly in the night, the darkness outside felt deeper than usual, a haunting pressure seemed to follow the snow that flew from the sky. But I thought little more of it that night. Instead, I tightened the leather strap that held my sword perched above the fireplace, threw another log on the dying flames of the stone fireplace, and retired to bed. ------The wind continued throughout the night, gusts pounding on the door, a great rhythm of crack, crack, crack, like splintering wood... I fell in and out of sleep over what seemed like hours until I forced myself awake, jolting upright out of bed, for it was not the wind that made such a sound. I ran quickly through the dark hall and found my coat and,

8 drawing it over myself, I flicked two light switches on just as the sound came again, crack, crack, crack. I knew the door stood tall and thick, for it had been carved from a great oak, but there was only so much force it could stand. I grabbed a poker from near the fire, gripping it tight in my hand, and walked towards the door. I checked to be sure both the lock and the latch were firmly locked in place. Again came the sound, crack, crack, crack, like lightning before me. I had only a moment to catch a breath, planting my feet firmly on the ground, before the door burst open. The great shadow before me had no face, no eyes, and no head... I started backwards and yelped, leaving the door swinging aside with the wind, strangely still intact and on its hinges. I lost my balance, suddenly forgetting my own house and landed with a crash. My head spun for only a second and my shoulder began to ache and throb, but I pulled myself to my feet, stabilizing in a strong stance, poker at the ready. I stared through the darkness. There before me, cloaked in the night, illuminated only by the soft white glow cast by the snow, was a woman. But it was not a woman. The body standing before me had all the features of a woman, clad in a black material, like a second skin, but it had no head. At the nape of the neck where its head was supposed to be, there was only a stump of silvery flesh. It was carrying something at its side. I looked closely. It was a human head! I felt my eyes go wide and my hands begin to shake, as if I were separated from myself. On the head, there was no blood where there should be, instead, only a pair of harrowing blue eyes staring up at me from behind a mop of short hair. My mind felt foggy, I thought of demons and dark things out of hell where my ears had heard stories, and I was afraid. “No!” I cried, “No! Get out of my house! You are not welcome here” Standing firm in my stance, there seemed to be nothing else to do but stand at the ready for a fight, but none came. The figure made no

9 sign of violent movement, but simply stepped through the threshold of the door and gently closed it behind itself. The body turned in my direction, “ahhh, that’s more like it” The head had spoken, it was a feminine and youthful voice. The body brushed back the head’s hair and dried its face, smiling brightly. I shuddered. The image was enough to convince me I lay trapped in a hallucination. I opened and shut my eyes, but the figure remained. “Contrary to what you're thinking right now Hugrekki, I am not here to hurt you,” the body adjusted the head with both hands and its blue eyes looked up at me knowingly. Suddenly I felt as if I were transparent, she had known my name, a name that now seemed lost in the mists of time. Somehow, I could tell that she knew more than just my name, she knew who I was. I looked at the eyes in the face of the bodiless head, tried to imagine it back at the neck where it should be, but there was no changing what my eyes beheld. But the eyes, they were youthful, and I felt a deep and wise understanding within her. “What do you want with me? How do you know who I am?” I demanded. “I know many things. Few that you would believe and many that you would not yet understand,” she paused, “But of these things you must learn.” I made no movements, all words had escaped me, and my brain seemed unable to process words anymore. I stared at her in silence. “May I sit?” she asked calmly. “Uh, I, I don’t think-” but before I could finish, she had already taken a seat on the couch facing the fireplace, her head in her lap. “I know that you are quite alarmed, but eventually you will sit and listen to me, so why not now instead of later?” I looked down at my poker,

“Keep it, if it makes you feel better,” she said. I didn’t seem to be able to do anything else, besides I had convinced myself that if she were out to kill me, I would already be dead. So, taking the long way around the room, I sat across from the body and her head. “Right,” I began, “If I am not dreaming, then you must tell me what is happening. I do not understand” Her head smiled and her body propped it up on the side table next to her, closer to me. I leaned away immediately, but she only looked at me. “I am pleased to meet you Hugrekki, I am called Mimir the Wise, but you may simply call me Mimir. I have sought you out to ask for your help,” she began. “You believe there to be only what you call ‘Earth’ encompassing the world, but the world itself is made up of nine realms, all of which are connected by the World Tree Yggdrasil. Yggdrasil’s root passes through all of these realms, and divides them in their proper order. The realm you reside in is called Midgard, where all humans are. However, the realms are in danger, what you would understand as the end of the world is upon us” I started to get dizzy trying to wrap my head around her words. I had often contemplated the meaning of life, my place in the world, and even death and how I would know that life continued if I myself wasn’t there to behold it, but the words Mimir (or rather, Mimir’s head) spoke, came together to give rise to a billion questions I thought I would never have to ask, and I was frightened. She watched me for a few moments, then spoke again. “But first I will explain more of what is, so that you will understand,” again she paused, but I made no movement. She continued, “Of the nine realms in Yggdrasil, the highest among the branches floats the first three realms: Asgard, Vanaheim, and Alfheim... Asgard is

11 the realm of the great gods, the Aesir, those who made humans from the elm and ash trees. It is a wondrous place, where all heroes go after death, carried there by the Valkyrie—she-warriors who collect the worthy from battle—bringing them to the halls of Valhalla where they dine with Odin—king of the Aesir—until the end of time. This place is where I come from, where I preside as Odin’s counselor and advisor. There are many gods in Asgard… “Vanaheim is the realm of the Vanir, the enemies of the gods of Asgard. These gods are mischievous and deal in dark magic. Many of them have been defeated, while others still have their roles in future events. Of their kind, the end of the world will arise, they have many dealings and powerful allies in other realms. “Alfheim is the realm of the Ljosalfar bright elves. What you must know of Alfheim is the ruler god, Freyr, once Vanir turned Aesir, will be a key in the quest I have brought before you. “In the middle realms of Yggdrasil lies Jotunheim: land of the giants, Svartalfheim: the realm of the Dokkalfar dwarves and dark elves, and your realm, Midgard, the realm of humans. “The bottom realms are the dark realms, hidden in the depths of the tree where the strongest root of Yggdrasil stands. The first, Niflheim: a frozen underworld of mist and death, one of the first realms of the world. Muspelheim: the place where fire was born in the first of ancient days, and where Surt the fire demon and his companions lie in wait for the destruction of the world. Finally, in the lowest realm is Helheim: realm of the dead, presided over by Hela, goddess of death, along with the dragon serpent Nidhogge, who sups the life from Yggdrasil every waking moment that he is not torturing the souls sent there in death. This realm and those that fester there are why I have come to you in the darkest part of the night. I have climbed through Yggdrasil’s branches from Asgard to Midgard to seek you.

“There has long been the prophecy of Ragnarök: the ultimate end of the world, the event that Surt the fire demon eagerly awaits, where a great battle rages between Aesir and Vanir, ending in the fiery death of all the realms by the hands of Surt himself. Three years of winter is the heralding of Ragnarök, and already, Hugrekki, you have noticed the fish fleeing from the land into deep waters when they can, and your nets have become increasingly empty, you know that something has been wrong, some strange feeling in the very touch of the water, it is the ripple of Ragnarök, you feel it’s approach.” A pressure sat itself on my stomach as I listened to Mimir’s last words. Silence veiled the room and I felt my heartbeat in my ears. Looking around my living room and looking at the head of Mimir seemed to be two different worlds entirely, and a hazy line seemed to outcrop her supernatural form altogether. But I knew she was right, whether she knew only my own foreboding feelings, or she spoke the truth about the end of the world, I did not know, but I had thought those exact words for many weeks about the fish...and the water. It was not the power of suggestion making me question what I knew, rather, it was Mimir who gave an explanation for the things I already recognized. And all at once the two worlds seemed to overlay one another and the image of Mimir became extremely daunting. When I looked back at her, her eyes changed, and as if reading my mind, she continued, “In Asgard, already two winters have passed, time is different there, and Ragnarök closes in on the future, but I have felt a deep disturbance in the way that I have seen before. The dragon Nidhogge will eventually kill Yggdrasil, the great tree that preserves life after the end. He must be killed if the realms will ever be able to prosper again. This is why I have come for you, I have seen many scenes of the future, but my wisdom tells me

13 you are a catalyst to the change we need for the preservation of life, Hugrekki” But I still could not understand, and most of all I wanted to ask, “But why me? What do I have to do with all of this? I am an old man and know little of battle, and remember even less of my training… What could I do?” “You can do what the Aesir cannot. Because they know the prophecy and respect the cycle of time, they can do little to redirect the future and will approach the final battle even with the knowledge of certain death. They do this because they know that life will be restored within the tree Yggdrasil and one day mankind will begin again. Thor, Odin’s son, grapples with the giants of Jotunheim to keep their numbers at bay, this is doing much for the future already. “Yet, there are dark forces at work which they do not understand. In the realms of the dark worlds there has been talk of complete victory, past that of the final battle of Ragnarök. In Helheim, everyday Nidhogge grows closer to the success of draining Yggdrasil completely, thus ending the cycle and terminating the world entirely. I have felt this and had visions of the waning within the tree itself, but Odin and the Aesir know nothing of this, for not even the Alfadur Odin has any authority in Helheim. “Nidhogge must be executed: beheaded before he seals the fate of all life in the nine realms. I have thought for many of your years on this task, and it is no mistake that I am here now” “But me? Why not send one of the gods to do it? What about Thor, I have heard, at least, of him; the god of lightning and thunder. Why not send him to Helheim? with all his magic hammer and strength to kill the godforsaken Dragon! I am useless in comparison” I exclaimed, feeling more and more that Mimir was not as wise as she claimed to be. Her eyes turned from me, and her body stood up from the couch,

“I must have seemed quite useless to most when I was sent back from the Vanir as nothing but a head,” she began, looking back at me, “You see, once, when I was all intact, as a peace offering from the war I was traded to the Vanir with a companion in return for others. There, the Vanir used my wisdom for their own well-being, but soon discovered that my companion was useless without me, and they felt cheated. So, they beheaded me, sending my decapitated head to the doorstep of Odin himself. But he lost not one moment, and he drew advantage from the act by restoring life back into my bodiless head. “Besides,” her body took its seat again, “Thor has no more authority in Helheim than Odin does, he cannot pass the gates, and none of the Aesir who have good intentions would ever think of sneaking into the territory of Hela, she has guardians of her own... I may advise Odin, but these things I cannot bring to his mind, so I have taken it upon myself to complete this task and have taken steps to hide my journey from the eyes and ears of Asgard, all save Heimdall, guardian of the rainbow Bridge Bifrost, whom can hear the grass grow and see the stars move. You are the one that I have chosen, I know you will be able to do the things I require of you, you whose name is courage.” I felt a grave understanding, but shaking my head, I persisted, “You have come to the wrong house, the wrong realm for that matter, I have long sought for an adventure of my own, but not one like this, I can barely stand a day at sea before my limbs begin to give out and my muscles become slack. There is nothing left for me.” “None of this matters. Most would have looked at my mutilated head and thought it utterly useless, but Odin knew the use of my mind; my physical form was nothing. “You may wonder why I take this form, yes? A headless body carrying around a bodiless head is a gruesome scene for anyone to see. But it is my constant reminder of the generous and clever mind of Odin

15 himself. You can imagine the shock I had when I was resuscitated, without my body, but Odin fashioned me a new one from liquid silver, and insisted my head should be reattached, but I refused. The Vanir took my life, but even then, I was not useless, so I decided to remain headless, using the body Odin had fashioned for me as merely a vehicle. The separation of head from body was a representation of how I had changed, and how I was better for it. “Your frame I can mend, but courage I cannot fashion. If that still remains, then you are the one I seek” I slouched in thought. Did I still have my courage? It didn’t feel like it. But after all this time, I wondered why I kept that sword, why I waited, and what I waited for. Now my answer looked me dead in the eyes from a coffee table. The end of the world was approaching and I had the chance to try and save a life, that seemed more than enough to me. I nodded to myself, my words coming out in a whisper, “you are very strange Mimir the Wise. But I should be stupid to think that you are wrong. I will do what you ask of me, though I do not understand your world.” Her body stood again, taking a vial from its pocket and offering it to me. Her head smiled, “You must drink this. It is a long way for us and you will need strength. This will replenish your muscles and revive your bones.” I took the strange bottle and uncorked it, the vial was already small, but the liquid inside barely filled half of it, “Only if I must I suppose.” I drank. I don’t know what I expected, but it tasted very familiar, “Apple juice?” I asked. “From the Apples of Iduna, the ancient secret of immortality,” Mimir explained, “Any more than what I’ve given you and you would burn from the inside out” I dropped the vial.

------I tucked myself into my orange coat and, strapping my sword across my back, I descended down the same stair I had crossed every day for thirty-five years. It was always to the same destination. Now, I didn't know where I was going, nor what lay in wait for me there. As I crossed, I noticed a strange mark had been cut into the stone. Mimir turned back to me and I looked up at her. “What’s this?” She looked down at the stone for a moment, “It is a magic rune, Icelandic for invisibility. It is how I have kept my journey from even Odin’s eyes. Even his ravens are blind to this house” “Of course, why not a magic rune on top of it all?” I murmured, pulling the door shut. To my surprise it slammed closed behind me. I jumped. It was easier than before, somehow I felt stronger, and I had used too much force to close it. ‘The apple juice must really work.’ I thought. I took another look at the stair and saw a second mark, but this one was old and worn, one I had never noticed before. It looked so much like the veins that stones often develop overtime, but now I recognized that it resembled Mimir’s mark. I thought it strange, but nevertheless, I followed Mimir’s deformed shadow into the deep dark. ------She had brought me to the sea. The portion of the ocean on the far side of the island that I had never seen before. Large cliffs dove into the clear blue water, and a thick coat of ice divided the two surfaces. Spots of green still clung to the tops of the cliffs as far as I could see. The moon was bright and cast a blue glow over the entire landscape. Mimir’s body turned to me, extending her hand, her eyes looking up at me from beneath her arm, “I require your sword, Hugrekki” I furrowed my eyebrows, it was a puzzling request, but I had little idea of what we were doing here in the first place; so, I handed over the

17 weapon. And she handed over her head. I was stunned at the transference and instantly dropped her. I deeply regretted my mistake, and by the time I had retrieved her, she had a mouthful of snow and all around her eyes was a deep shade of purple. “Why would you do that? To entrust your entire wellbeing to me is most unwise” “It matters not, I cannot be hurt, I do not feel pain, and I have no internal heat of my own, so I feel neither cold nor warmth. Although, snow is a rather uncomfortable element in my experience” She paused, “But please, if I must warn you of anything it is this: what I am about to do will open what is called the rainbow Bridge Bifrost, the one way into Asgard. Do not be alarmed.” I nodded, feeling too tense already holding her head to think of anything else. Her voice transferred to a murmur, “Heimdall, my friend…” The rest of her words she spoke in a language I could not understand. Meanwhile, her body positioned itself with both hands grasping the hilt of the sword, tilting the blade different ways, it seemed to try and catch the glow of white light on the reflection of the blade, and she directed it into the fog across the water. At first there was a glow in the sky, then a light that looked like the Aurora Borealis: a flowering of colors. But then, there appeared a great stream of cold color stretching up and along the waves in a cast of solidifying light, and it became a rainbow of every color. I felt Mimir’s eyes look up at me, “As I have told you, Hugrekki, this is the Bridge Bifrost. We are on our way to Asgard.” I felt as if I were in a dream, everything seemed to swim in front of my eyes, like the fish I had watched from my boat for so many years. It was strange to think back on the town, when before me was a rainbow bridge, illuminating through the dark and in my hands a bodiless head of

18 an ancient being who still looked like a young adult. ‘I couldn’t’ve had a more normal adventure?’ I thought to myself as Mimir’s body retrieved her head and I followed her into the light.

Quick moving images sped past my eyes. All kinds of landscapes flooded into one stream, then all at the same time, we were on a balcony, dark water below us. Everything seemed so vivid. The warm colors seemed altogether warmer, and the cold colors were cooler, everything around me felt as if it had its own essence radiating from it. From the Bifrost, I had been transported to Asgard. I turned and saw the city. Great towers extended towards the sky, and in even greater size behind them stood the trunk of a tree. I followed it with my eyes. Its bole disappeared into the clouds, and in the vast distance I could make out the outlines of branches and shades of emerald green leaves. In the city, there were structures which I could only explain as castles, that swept the landscape, all the way up to where the water met the land. The largest of them all stood the tallest among them, positioned as if it were a gate before the city. The bridge I stood on was of the same rainbow substance as the Bifrost in which I had been transported on, with colors of the Aurora Borealis. It ran all the way to the entrance of the illustrious palace, and when I turned my head, it looked plain as stone, but when I looked again, it shimmered with all the colors again. All around the city there was the sea, the most beautiful green I had ever seen, but it covered only about a mile in all directions, and then it dropped off in a glassy haze, the foamy ocean spray creating a barrier of mist so I couldn’t see what it emptied into. Maybe I was dead? After all, Mimir did say this was where human heroes came after they died And I had ‘walked into the light’. But I hadn’t done anything heroic…

“Mimir?” I asked, “Am I dead?” “No, Hugrekki” I thought about it for a second, looking around, “Why do I always feel like you're lying to me?” “Because you don’t believe anything I say,” she replied, striding forward. She continued, “We must not stop. From here we go to Alfheim” Suddenly I noticed a man sitting aside over the railing of the balcony. He sat holding a sword in both hands, his eyes closed. Just when Mimir said ‘Alfheim’ he moved his blade into the mist below, a scene of another realm reflecting through. An image of the extended root of Yggdrasil flickered above the water. The man opened his eyes and turned to us. “Hello Heimdall,” Mimir said lightly. “Welcome back. And a farewell again all too soon. There is much you need to know, but Freyr is bound to fill you in. I have listened to the ground and it shifts.” I didn’t understand what he meant, but Mimir seemed to. She thought for a moment, then spoke, “Be prepared for anything. Details of Ragnarök are still easily changed at this hour.” He nodded gravely, then flashed his eyes at me, they were a bright gold. Then, bending his sword once again, he turned the light and let it absorb us. ------When we arrived in Alfheim, the first thing I noticed was Yggdrasil’s trunk. Surprisingly, it was not anything like the one I had seen in Asgard, but an immense spiraling of many trunks, like a great vine. It curved and encircled the city with its great silvery roots. We had touched down at what I assumed was the center of the city, for a circle

20 distinguishable by a difference in the shade of the stone surrounded us perfectly. The stones paved paths in all directions, lined with grand structures, columns rising in the street. I noticed movement at my feet; water flowed through gaps in the stone like blood in the veins. The same water system stretched out in all directions, branching different ways. Everywhere I looked there were crevices where the water ran, and off the rooftops it pooled and then streamlined. Strangely enough, it was all flowing in the same direction. I traced the flow upstream and found the great winding silver root of the tree Yggdrasil, it was all pouring from the tree. “Unlike the other realms, there is no well in Alfheim’s root,” Mimir said suddenly, noting the direction of my sight. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I looked up to her face, but was confounded when I saw only emptiness. It was hard to get used to a severed head and I adjusted my listening gaze down to where her hands held it as she continued, “Instead, the water from the tree flows freely all over the city, all the way to the outskirts, where the planters grow their food and where the Ljosalfar elves gather the sacred water from the tree of life.” “Elves? Sacred water? And you went to Midgard to find me?” I asked, starting to wonder if I was really just dreaming. ------In the dark, all the lights glittered and extended their glare farther than should naturally have been possible. The very air to Alfheim had a mystical feel to it. The city, that I could see, was made primarily of stone, just like the ones on the ground, but each surface glinted with a unique smoothness, carrying the light through the streets on each block. Some buildings towered higher than others, but never higher than three stories, I guessed.

As we moved along through the streets in the direction of the towering tree, I noticed the tops of each structure was covered in a fantastically green moss, which stretched like a whole other landscape across a second world. We came upon a lower building and I looked closely. More water streamed through the green, cascading down to the crevices of the road, perfectly clear. Mimir was silent, striding on and on, and I tried keeping up with her, but everywhere I looked was an engaging atmosphere. The path to the tree was a straight shot through what I assumed was the main road, and even though it must have been late into the night, we passed many people. Most of them were very tall, walking the streets and speaking quietly, but all of their eyes seemed to glow by the cool light in the streets when they glanced at Mimir and I as we passed. And when we rounded a corner, there was another playing an instrument that looked like the flute, but had the rich sound of an orchestra. His eyes were covered by small pieces of his hair, and when we came upon him, I noticed the ears. They were slightly pointed at the tops and at his ear lobe, and strangely enough, he had markings like lacerations behind them. His music filled the streets, and I began to notice all the people around had the same pointed ears. These were the elves. I kept close beside Mimir, wondering if she was ever going to stop, or where we were going. We continued on.

We came to a large structure, lifted in the spiraling silver root of Yggdrasil, where the water’s source flowed, then cascaded in descending waves to the entrance of the city. From where we stood, the city seemed far below us. Before me was a grand staged scene of silver towers, surrounded by green plants, giving off a glow in the night. “Freyr’s palace,” Mimir said, gesturing to the edifice. “Subtle, isn’t he?”

Freyr? I remembered Mimir had said he was the ruler of Alfheim. Was he an elf too? My thoughts all frayed into one. The fantastical elements all around seemed to grip me by all of my senses at once, leaving me trying to figure out if I was dreaming, or dead. Those seemed the only two options. Mimir spoke, it seemed, in another dimension, and I could make out little of what she said. “How do we get to the door?” I finally asked. ------We entered into a great hall with ceilings so tall, I wondered if they were built for giants (another idea which I never thought possible, but now prepared for nonetheless). At the opposite end of the hall, a tall, muscular man sat on a throne lavished in animal skins, and dressed with the same in garment form. He showed an indecent amount of skin. “Mimir!” his deep voice boomed, like the fiery color of his full, red beard, “Still not dead yet?” Mimir’s body pulled her head from her side and held it facing Freyr, unamused. “I’ve come on behalf of Odin” “‘On behalf of’? Doesn’t Odin usually take care of his own business? What is this about?” “Many things are beginning to grow out of hand, Freyr, and I require your aid. How long has it been since you have seen Loki?” He let out a laugh, “Loki! Well not since good old Vali struck him out for killing Baldur. You should know this already, you are the ‘great seeing one’ are you not?” “Then where is your sword?” His eyes changed, angry, and he stood from his throne to face Mimir, and now I could see his pointed ears from behind his red hair, and his eyes flickered green as he came into the light. I stepped back a few large paces. “My sword is where it always has been, right here at my side.”

He was right, there at his side was a sheathed sword, ruby hilt at the ready. Mimir said something I didn’t understand, then her arm quickly drew a knife and threw it at Freyr. By the time he caught the blade, it had sliced him on the shoulder. “That one” she said, “It is legend that the dwarves who forged it laced it with magic. It gives it the will to fight on its own, but it also has its own loyalty to a master, and for a long time I have felt that its loyalty does not lie with you anymore, so where is it?” Freyr didn’t even flinch, he simply threw the knife to the ground and crossed his arms, the wound stitching itself back together with his own skin. I had no idea what the gesture could have meant, but Freyr answered immediately, understanding completely. “It is a tragedy indeed! my sword was stolen from me quite some time ago. My messenger, Skirnir was his name, the blade now belongs to him. Many times, I have tried to retrieve my sword, but I am never successful. So, you seem to have been misled, I wouldn’t know where it is,” he said, rather dramatically. “Freyr, you imbecile” Mimir said, “You never had a messenger” “Why, that’s absurd, why would I remember a messenger that didn’t exist, you seem to be quite confused” ”Please,” she said lightly, handing her head to me and stalking up to Freyr, and although he was a muscular man, he seemed to shrink slightly as she approached: headless. She placed her fingertips onto each side of his temples and his red hair seemed to poof up in shock. Her head had its eyes closed and I had followed close behind as Freyr’s face shifted from shock to a deep contemplation. Mimir let go, taking back her head. “My mind...How could anyone be able to do it, Mimir?” He asked, suddenly very quiet. “Loki” “Loki!”

“Yes. I had been contemplating this for a long time. His magic is powerful and has hidden many things from my sight, but in your mind, I have seen it. He deceived you and made off with your sword, he even left your memory marked with his magic.” “That, no good, slither-tongued, little—” Mimir turned to me, and Freyr seemed to notice me for the first time. “Who in Nifel are you?” He asked, blatantly. I spoke up for the first time since entering the palace, “I am Hugrekki. Merely a man from Midgard” “And what business does a human have in the realm of the elves?” I looked at Mimir, then back to Freyr, feeling very small and standing a little straighter, “‘Tell one your thoughts, but beware of two. All know what is known to three’ It is up to Mimir to reveal my task, or keep it hidden, sire.” Freyr looked at me strangely, and I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake. But by the end of the minute, I was still alive. ------After some time, Mimir and Freyr began to speak softer and in a language I could not understand. Soon their speech faded away, and I wandered the room. Flanks of draperies hung over the cold stone walls. The images wrought upon them showed the pattern of a story. I tried to analyze it, but I couldn’t understand. The only consistent image I could follow was a sword, depicted with strands of yellow fabric all around it, as if it were shining. ‘Well,’ I thought, ‘if in any place, they would have magical swords here.’ Suddenly, a blue and grey cat strolled into sight. It pawed the ground quietly and turned the corner without a sound. For a minute I wondered if I had really seen it, seeing as my ears did not agree with me, so I followed. Looking back as I rounded the corner, I wondered if it was really the

25 smartest thing to follow a giant cat, but I ignored my better judgment in light of my curiosity. Around the corner there it was again, a blue cat with pointed ears and long whiskers. It had looked at me as if it knew I was following, and I backed up a step. It occurred to me that whatever was in this castle was bound to be dangerous, no matter how furry they were. But the cat moved along and I followed as quietly as I could, probably like an elephant compared to its quiet paws. Eventually, we came to a stairway lit by the sun, and the cat bounded down six or seven stairs at a time with one leap. ‘It’s morning already?’ I thought, trying to think of how long I had been in the castle, out of my home even. I looked out into the distance. The stairs probably let out to the city, and I had loved to see the city on the way in. I wondered if it was safe to be wandering around a place I didn’t know without Mimir. I turned back to look at the way I came, ‘I wouldn’t even remember the way back if I had a map,’ I thought, so I descended, no way but onward.

The landscape was like a dream before me. Elves like the ones I had seen the night before gilded the streets and the smaller elves, the children, ran about with one another in a chaotic swiftness. A pair swept past me, one chasing the other. I noticed the pointed tips of their ears and a spiked head of hair, the other’s braided tightly in several braids. As they ran by, the other elves merely smiled lightly and drifted on in their serene manner. All of them spoke fluidly in a strange language, but it was musical and that was enough for me to listen close when I passed them. Although it felt as warm as a fresh spring, many of them wore light robes with long sleeves, and had their hair falling in long strands. Others I passed had short spiked hair, like that of soft moss, ranging in colors from a jet black and brown, to a red and a gold.

I looked around for the cat I had seen, but there was no sign of it. I continued along the path, drinking in the fantastical vision. The elf children who had run past me now stooped some distance ahead, drinking from the cascading water from a rooftop. I was astonished, for as far as I had seen, it flowed through the streets, it was supposed to be grimy by now, why did they drink it? No sooner than the children had continued on, a green bit of moss flowed into the opening where the water flowed, stopping it up. I reached up to try and pick out the bit of moss, having little luck, when an elf with a walking stick passed by. His hair was long, but the bangs had been grown and placed just so that it covered both his eyes. I recognized him as the elf I had seen the night before, playing the flute- like instrument. He raised his stick and scooped the green patch blocking the water flow and placed it away, and as he did, the hair covering his eyes gave way to a small window. Beneath, his eyes showed a cloudy tinted gray. He was blind. “How did you know that was there?” I asked, amazed. “The sound has changed since I last walked this way,” he said. Surprisingly in my own language. I looked up, listening, but the noise all around made it hard to concentrate on the sound of the water. I pressed on, “Does that happen often?” “As often as it might I would say” He continued to walk on, and I followed beside him. “Then how do you keep the water flowing, if there are blockages like that, how can you tell before it’s too late?” “That is a strange question. We feel it of course” “Feel it?” He laughed, “You are different. You are not from here.”

“No, I’m from… well… my world is… I suppose you would call it Midgard” “Ah yes, to be sure. Now, what are you in your world?” I was confused by his question, was it not obvious? “I’m a human,” I answered He laughed again, pausing in his footsteps and waving his free hand, “No, no, it is my understanding that in your world what you are is characterized by what you do. So, what are you, then?” He started to walk away again and I took extra steps to follow, “Well, I’m a fisherman” “Aha! A Santiago. Then is it not patience and waiting for the right time. You must feel the tension and the movement of the fish. You must wait and feel what he is going to do. What do they say in Midgard? ‘They sleep and the moon and the sun sleep and even the ocean sleeps sometimes on certain days when there is no current and a flat calm’, how do you find the fish then? You feel and you listen, and you wait.” He smiled to himself, then continued, “It is the same with the elves. Everything has a life force or a vibration to it and we elves feel it from everything. It is how we sense the water blockages and even the sick plants in the water fields” I was surprised that he knew Hemingway, and more and more I began to understand why my task with Yggdrasil was so important, and I asked, “Do you think that one single plant could affect a whole field? If it were sick, or dying, that is.” He turned his head slightly in my direction, giving a strange knowing smile. “The energy in the field is usually similar for all plants, but when one has a different energy, it is not evil, rather, a signal that this one might require more attention than the others at present. If left neglected, the

28 energy then has a catalyst for change into dark energy, and can kill all that lies around it. “But life is a perception of decisions, actions, and energies. Across all instances of time there are many versions of who you could have been, some good (from perseverance) and some evil (from fear and anger), it is the same with plants. So, yes, one could drastically change the whole field, for better or worse, but only action can tell which.” Without sight, this elf saw right through me, and I was glad of it. My task of defending Yggdrasil seemed like not much and an impossible feat all at the same time. How could one tree affect all instances of the future? But now I had seen how it connected the realms, how important it was. And if one small plant could destroy a field, I hated to imagine what would happen without the World Tree. I might not be strong enough, but I could try. Mimir seemed to have her mind set on the fact, and she was clairvoyant. Already feeling better about my quest, I realized I never asked the elf his name. “I’m Hugrekki” I said quickly, holding my hand out to shake, then hesitating. But before I could put my hand down, he gripped it in his own, “Ágyl. And I don’t need eyes to shake your hand, Hugrekki. Pleasure to meet you. “Now, say, what are you doing here in Alfheim?” I wondered if I should tell him about our quest, and decided if anything, he would be a help to me, “We’re in search of Freyr’s sword. It’s been a bit of a--” “Ha! Skirnir hasn’t been in Alfheim for near a hundred years now, if I may speak Midgardianly” I was disappointed, he seemed like such a wise elf, so how could Loki’s enchantment have affected him too? Could his magic have affected everyone in Alfheim?

I decided to tell him. “Skirnir was never real, he was just an illusion,” I began, “It’s been discovered that Freyr never had a messenger at all” “The messenger! I’ve known for too long that Loki made off with Skirnir. You see, Loki is the illusion-maker (that trickster!) and Skirnir, of course, the name of Freyr’s sword itself,” he laughed for a long moment, “Hugrekki, you are very funny” “But… But not even Freyr knew, and here you’ve known all along?” “Yes! It’s awful really, but I expect Freyr is having a fit about now” “Then, where is Loki now? Where is the sword?” “I expect in some cell or another paying for his tricks in some drastically violent way. The sword with him, hidden by enchantment perhaps. I heard he was bound by the intestines of his own son, now that is really awful. Nonetheless I’ve kept his secret, ‘even in the darkest cage’ he told me, ‘knowing that everything Freyr does proves him the complete oblivious imbecile he is, will be enough for my own amusement’. Ha! Well he was right, wasn’t he?” “Then why tell me now?” I asked, not sure what to think. “Well, you came with Mimir, I expect she is filling him in just the way she ought.” “Yes, but how did you-”, I thought back to the night before. Of course he knew I came with Mimir. Even if he hadn’t seen her headless body carrying its head, he must have known it was her. Not even a blind man could miss the strange form of Mimir. “Yes of course, I saw you when I came in. Ha!” he laughed at his own joke heartily. I laughed with him, it seemed to be contagious with this elf. “Come to think of it,” I finally said, “I’ve sort of misplaced myself, and now I don’t know the way back. Do you think you could help me find Freyr’s palace again?”

He smiled wide, “Asking a blind man for directions, is like asking a blind man for directions. Luckily, I am not a man and I know every inch of this city, come along!” We strolled along the path, talking all the way, when we finally came to the palace door. The whole way in, I had described the length of my quest to Ágyl, and he listened urgently. I had been thinking about what the next step for me was, and now that I knew Loki had the sword in Asgard, it seemed that was my next destination. But I knew nothing of Asgard. Ágyl, on the other hand, knew so much about all the realms, and gave me advice about what was in Asgard. Now, as we both walked through the doors, I asked, “Will you come with me? To Asgard, I mean, you seem to know much about the realms, and about Loki, would you help me with my quest? Frankly, I feel as if I am more than inadequate, let alone enough to battle a dragon in hell.” He thought for a long moment, then strangely touching the scars behind his ear, spoke again, “I am old, beyond anything you could know. But, in your own time, so are you. And if this is to be our last adventure, why not fight a dragon?” ------

We walked into the throne room where Mimir and Freyr still stood in deep conversation. When Mimir heard our approach, she turned. “Ah, Hugrekki, right on time, I’m afraid I must leave you now, but it seems you have found yourself a new companion” “How did you... why… well, yes, this is my friend, I found, or rather he found me, in the city” I explained. “Indeed, a fateful encounter beautifully ordained. You must see many things, Ágyl, that Hugrekki does not yet see himself, you are a fit companion for him,” Mimir said, deepening her eyes as she looked at him.

He bowed low, flaring his staff, “Wise words Mimir. As always, you have a good head on your shoulders,” he said, smiling at the ground. Freyr let out a shallow laugh, and Mimir flared her eyes. “I trust your judgement wholeheartedly,” Ágyl finished. She turned to me, “Freyr and I have talked a long time, and he has shed light on many gaps in my knowledge. Because of this, I must return to Asgard as quickly as possible.” “Yes,” I said, “That’s just where we need to go next, we-” she cut me off. “You will stay in Alfheim for a little while longer. You must have a plan. Ágyl will guide you, and Freyr and Freya will give you the tools you will need.” “Freya?” I asked, puzzled. Feeling more and more that the closer I came to understanding anything, there was another name I had never heard before, but she said it as if I already knew. Then, out of nowhere, a woman flanked by two large blue cats appeared in the room. I gasped, “The cat! There it is after all!” The woman looked at me strangely. Freyr followed my gaze, and Ágyl struck the ground with his staff. “Forgive me,” the woman said, her voice like a purr, “I felt the need to observe away from your sight, mannlegt” Just in the way she addressed me, whatever ‘mannlegt’ meant, I knew it couldn’t be very polite. Suddenly I felt a surge of confidence and pride. “Hiding in the dark usually means you have more to hide than just your form” I said, feeling that she looked very familiar. I regretted my confidence when I felt something by my side. Looking down, there at both my legs, jaws wide, were the blue cats, who had snuck up on me menacingly.

“Bygul, Trjegul,” she said, smiling, talking to the cats, “leave Freyr’s guest alone, please, thank you” She waved her hand and the two felines came trotting back to her side. She looked down at each of them, and sweeping her two long red braids of hair forward, she whispered, “Only keep an eye on him darlings,” with a sneer. I glanced at Mimir, wondering what had gotten into me, but she just smiled, then addressed the woman, “No harm must come to him Freya, I’ve informed Freyr enough to ensure his secrecy, but I have little trust in you. Be sure to keep your nose out. And remember our alliance.” Turning towards the door, Mimir gave a nod to each person in the room, and when she passed by me, her hand signaled for me to follow. Once through the door, she turned her head in her arms to face me. “When you go to Asgard, you will go as part of Freyr’s assembly,” she began, “Ágyl will be his ambassador, and he will guide you after you arrive. It is very important that you listen to what I say. Although it may seem strange to you, you must keep to the right of the city line at all times. And especially keep away from ravens. I have had Freya make you a cloak that will hide you from many of these things, but I urge you to err on the side of caution. I have kept this quest a secret for a reason. For a long time, Yggdrasil was thought to be invincible, but now it is exposed, our enemies must not know” “But what does that have to do with me? I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone in Asgard if you instructed me.” She stopped me again, “No questions, you must do as I say,” her voice was stern and urgent. I nodded, keeping my questions. I knew her words were sincere and eminent, so I listened. She pushed a vial of the liquid she had given me before, to boost my strength.

“When you should need it. Use it well” she said. And before long, she stepped into the Bifrost platform with her head, and turned back to me one last time, “Save Yggdrasil,” she said, “For us all” She vanished and I was left alone overlooking all of Alfheim.

The next few days Ágyl and I spent in Alfheim’s archive, pouring over maps so I could get a visual of Asgard and the other realms. Asgard, as far as I could tell, was made up of two wards, essentially the left and the right; something to do with the splitting of Odin’s eyes over the city. Of the two wards, twelve smaller cities were encompassed depending on what palace was the center of it. The palace we were after, Ágyl said, was Odin’s main palace Gladsheim, the place where the Aesir reside when they aren’t on a quest or in Valhalla. “Odin and the other Aesir are most likely keeping Loki chained below Gladsheimr, in one of the tunnels,” Ágyl explained, and I picked up a map of the realm, “the legend says that once Loki was found out to be the murderer of Baldur, one of the most beloved Aesir, they locked him in the darkest cave below Odin’s palace. If we have any luck at all, you can bet Skirnir will be hidden with Loki there” We prepared diligently for the task. Freya presented the cloak promised by Mimir, a simple-looking black fabric with a hood. I wondered how something so simple could be laced with magic, but Mimir said it would hide me from unwanted eyes. Freyr explained some of the properties of Skirnir itself, but his words weren’t much help, he said Loki’s magic still imprinted bits of his mind from remembering completely. What he knew was limited, and no amount of thought could make him recall what Loki could have disguised it as.

Ágyl was set up with Freyr’s assembly, which was designed to keep the peace between the Aesir and Freyr, since he and Freya had come from the Vanir. A store of weapons was sent every millennium, but time was so different between all of the realms, there was no real way to measure time consistently across them. I learned much about the realms through Ágyl and I’s studies in maps and records, Asgard was one, but I poured over the stories and visuals of Helheim, the place where Nidhogge the dragon dwelled. From all the things I read, I dreaded Helheim the most. It was made up of three levels, each of them with three realms in each, the ones further down being the worst. And Nidhogge dwelt in the bottom of the realm, at the base of Yggdrasil’s bole. If I had any luck at all, I could avoid Hela, the ruler of Helheim, altogether. But there was no guarantee, and her hound, Fenrir, had a bite like death. Days passed, and I became curious reading over a selection about Helheim. It was the same expression Mimir used, ‘Not even Odin has any authority in Helheim’, and I asked Ágyl to decipher it for me. “Why don’t the Aesir ever go to Helheim for quests, or to destroy the evil there?” I asked. He took a long moment of silence, then spoke only one word, “Godslayers,” he said. I tried to ask him more, but he only said that I would know one when I saw one, there was no way to prepare me for this creature, he said. With Loki, he assured me, we would be able to pass the bridge into Helheim, one of the great barriers of our journeys. Time passed quickly, and soon it was the day of our departure. Everything was in order for Freyr’s assembly, and Ágyl and I followed the packed cart to the Bifrost platform. Freya stood at the entrance with her cats, watching us go, and Freyr held his ruby-hilted sword into the light.

“Farewell my friend. Good luck to you Hugrekki,” Freyr said as he called to Heimdall and we floated out of sight, arriving in Asgard once again. ------We were back on the same balcony I had seen just days before when I had first passed through the Bifrost. I looked down at the water below, still as vast as when I had first looked into it. Heimdall stood near the rainbow bridge this time, strapping his sword across his back as he directed the assembly towards the palace Gladsheimr. At the cart, he paused and looked at it, then listened for a split second and let it move on. His glowing eyes glinted at me as I passed. Ágyl walked beside as we followed the cart. A light breeze swept across the bridge, making the cart sway a bit. We stopped and I happened to look over at Ágyl. His hair had been swept out of his face again, and behind his ear was the laceration-like scar I had seen the first night we passed him performing in the street. “Ágyl, your ear, what happened to you?” I asked, trying to think of what could give such a nasty scar. “Well you see, I was born this way. Many elves have pointed ears, haven’t you noticed?” “No, no, I mean the scar behind your ear, it looks quite painful” He touched the skin behind his ear, “Ahh, those. I have it on both sides.” I waited for more of an explanation, but he continued to walk on in silence. “Do you mind if I ask where you got them?” I pressed. “Oh dear! Quite a story, that one. But if you wish, I will tell you” “If it’s all the same to you,” I said curiously, trying not to pry too much.

“First, you must know that although Elves are immortal, we do die,” he began slowly, “Of course you have those that die in battle, but the rest of us that survive or stay stagnant all our lives, live forever. When there comes a time when an Elf must find peace or move on, we go to the sea. “The ocean lies past the water fields of Yggdrasil, which extends in connection with the ocean, to what we call the Bridge of Ascension, where all elves go when they are ready to die.” He paused. I had never thought about death like how Ágyl explained it. For me, death was something that was bound to happen to me eventually, but for the elves, they chose it, or it consumed them in their purpose. Ágyl continued, “Once on the Bridge, you must call out to the waves, and they come to consume you from the edge of the dock. At one time, I thought that I was ready to find peace, that my days were over, and I went to the dock and called out to the waves. They took me in a sweep, and my senses were drowned, but the ocean rejected me, gnashed in my ears that it was not my time. The ocean dragged me out by the ears and threw me back up onto the land.” He touched the scars on each side of his ears, “Sometimes the things we think about ourselves are drastically different from reality. The ocean scarred me, as a reminder that I still had more to do. Since then, it has been many years.” “Is that why death is so sacred to the elves?” I finally asked after a few minutes, “why the extent of life and death are so important?” “For us elves, you die with your purpose, or you die with the peace that your purpose is fulfilled. Not one elf, man, or beast rests in any realm without a purpose” He explained, pronouncing each word as if it weighed a hundred pounds. “I see, Ágyl, thank you.” He nodded quietly, hitting his staff on the ground in front of him once, then continuing.

------The cart was transferred to the armory, while the assembly passed through the gates of the palace. Everything inside seemed to be laced with gold. Black marble made the walls, and a gold substance like glass adorned the ceilings, paintings of battle scenes and fantastical objects illustrated on every foot. It was an extravagant place. I folded my hood up as we came closer to the throne room, and tried my best to continuously think about staying to the right, whatever that meant for me. We were informed that Odin dined in Valhalla, and the first of our luck proved sufficient. We were able to continue undetected. Next, Ágyl was supposed to meet with the other Aesir to discuss the business of weapons, but apparently the thunder god Thor was gone fending giants off the territory, while others of the Aesir flanked about in different realms, smoothing out the effects of the coming Ragnarök. So, in the assembled Aesir, there were only Vidar and Vali, sons of Odin (Ágyl had said he knew Vidar, and was confident he would help in our quest), and Tyr, a god of war, who constantly rubbed at the stump of his right hand, a menacing, far-off look in his eyes. Ágyl sat at the table with the members of the Aesir, and I casually stood near the wall with the others that had come in the assembly, trying to stay out of sight. I had a feeling I would stick out because of my cloak and hood, but no one seemed to notice the difference, maybe it really did work after all? ------When the conversations died down, the members began to disperse. Ágyl stood and found me by the wall, then moved to follow Vidar with a strike of his staff on the ground. Vidar was shorter than most of the Aesir I had seen, but he was much more muscular. His brawny shape made him seem the most menacing of

38 all. He turned, noticing that we were coming upon him. He crossed his arms, a hard task, I thought, with how big his arms were. “Ágyl! How is my favorite arms dealer, eh?” His voice was exuberant, not at all how I imagined it to be. He had scars all over his face, and a white gash near his lip. His ears were adorned with all kinds of metal rings, altogether a menacing look. But when he spoke, and in his eyes, he was kindly. Ágyl smiled at the brawny man, “Always a pleasure seeing you Vidar. Your brother still giving you Hel?” His voice softened at the last words sarcastically. Vidar patted Ágyl’s shoulder lightly, “Quite. But what could we expect? Come, have a drink with me, won’t you?” He asked, gesturing aside. “I’m afraid not, Vidar, I have urgent business I must speak with you about.” Ágyl lifted his staff and swept the hood of the cloak from my head. Vidar looked at me as if I had grown from Ágyl’s shadow. Then his face grew grave. “Important you say? Then let us talk privately. This way, please.” He led us down a side hall and down a few flights of stairs before stopping at a partially concealed door. Then, swinging the door open, Ágyl and I entered, while Vidar swept both ways of the passage with his eyes, turning back and closing the door behind him. “Now. Tell me of this ‘urgent business’, and who are you” he began, gesturing to me. I cleared my throat, “My name is Hugrekki. I am a human from Midgard” Vidar looked at Ágyl, then back at me, “You are human, in Asgard, and still living? Must be urgent business.”

“We’re searching for Loki, my best guess was that he was kept here, in the dungeons under the castle,” Ágyl explained. “Loki? What in Nifel for?” I cut in, “Mimir sent me. She has given me a specific task, for the preparation of Ragnarök, and Loki has a weapon that I require to complete it. Ágyl has agreed to help me, and he has guided me thus far, but I am only a man, and know little about Asgard” “That sounds about right, for a human. In Midgard, there is no mention of the other realms save for myths and legends. If it’s for preparation, I can easily take you to Loki, he is indeed hidden here, as you have guessed, Ágyl.” “I’m afraid it is not so simple, Vidar,” Ágyl began, “You know Loki as well as I do, and there is no way he would give up anything he has hidden for this long without a bargain. He will want to be set free.” “This we are prepared to offer him,” I finished. His expression became grim, and he looked back and forth between Ágyl and I. “You do not know what you ask,” he murmured, “He is evil! And he will deceive us, without a second thought too, I expect” I thought about his words, and then about all the things I had read of Loki, the stories Freyr and Ágyl alike had told while we stayed in Alfheim. Ágyl started to say something, then stopped himself. I could tell he felt the same about Loki. Perhaps not so badly, but enough to keep his suspicions alive. “There must be some hope left for him,” I said, “As they say, ‘None so good that he has no faults, None so wicked that he is worth naught’ there may be good still in him yet, and we could use some good wit and knowledge for our quest...” Vidar gave a strange look, “Yes...that is what they say isn’t it. Where exactly does your quest lead?”

I decided the information was necessary, “Helheim,” I said. I waited, but he said nothing else, so I continued, “Either way, if we rescue him, he owes us a favor, and as far as I can tell, oaths are sacred among the gods, I doubt he is so low as to break that. Through everything, has he ever actually broken an oath, or only used his wit and cleverness to find a loophole?” Out of the corner of my eye, Ágyl looked a bit stunned. Vidar didn’t move, and seemed to be deep in contemplation, and continued to stare at me strangely. “Perhaps you have a point. There is little we can do to slow Ragnarök...I will do what you ask, but none of this must ever get to my brother Vali, for his sole purpose was to bind Loki in the depths of these walls, he would kill both of you the moment he heard of it. If you haven’t already been slain by Loki himself.” He stood and waved his hand as if waving away his thoughts, “I may regret it. But I will take you to him” I smiled. Our luck had held out once again. I thanked him and Ágyl followed us out the door.

They weren’t kidding when they said the dungeons. I lost count of the stairs we descended by the time we got to the bottom. It became so dark that most of the time the only one who could see was Ágyl. When we descended the last step, an acrid smell hung in the air, and the path was lit only by a few torches. From here, the path ascended on a steep incline, and I wondered why all the stairs were really necessary. Ever since I had come to Asgard, I had no sense of time, but now any sense I still had left was tossed to the wind in the darkness. No one spoke the whole way down or up, only the footsteps and light chiming of Vidar’s belt gave any parting to the silence.

Finally, we came to a steep, cliff-like ledge, looking down on a small flat area. Overhead were spiked rocks, threatening to fall at any moment. And below, a figure sat hunched over in the middle of the flat surface. We descended the small steps down to the bottom area, and a light shone down just in front of the hunched figure. This must have been Loki, but his form barely looked human, let alone godly. Vidar pulled out a small, bright lamp and flicked it on, and I could just make out his features. His hair was long and some of it matted to his face, a grey streak stark against his black hair. He was chained by several strands of metal, with no visible lock anywhere. He slowly raised his face and I choked, “Dear God.” All across his face was a burnt scar, spidering in each direction, it seemed to be healing, but slowly for a god, not like how I had seen Freyr’s wound heal. His face looked up but his eyes were empty, the left one was healing from a stark white back to its original green color in front of my eyes. I looked up. At the top of the cave was a spiked rock pointing directly to the spot Loki sat. Around it was coiled a red mass, and I squinted, trying to look closer. Its head was easily seen, for it had two long fangs jutting down from its upper jaw over its lips. It opened and closed its mouth in a rhythmic motion, letting drops of some liquid fall from its teeth. And just as the drops released, a scarred hand shot out and collected the droplet in a shining metal cup. “Let’s get to it Vidar, help me with the chains.” His face grew grave, “Not until we’ve bargained with him. Keep your wits about you, man” he spat the last words, eyebrows furrowed. Vidar tapped Loki on the side of the head, “Wake up you little rat,” he murmured, pouring a bit of liquid into his mouth. Loki drank greedily, but Vidar stopped him before he could finish the flask, “There ya’ are, you devil,” Vidar shook him once again.

Faster than lightning, Loki’s eyes lit up, going wide and a sly smile crossed his face. “Miss me already?” he asked, scrunching his nose in mockery. Vidar turned to me, agitated, “What is it you're looking for, now? What weapon were you mentioning?” I’d forgotten to tell Vidar about Skirnir, I had unwittingly assumed he knew, being friends with Ágyl and all. “Skirnir,” I answered quickly, “What was once Freyr’s magical sword” He turned back to Loki, “You ever hear of a weapon like that? Skirnir? Come on you little devil, these two know you’ve got it. Freyr’s old, hexed blade, where is it?” Loki rolled back his head against the chains, jolting in the metal, “A shame you don’t know, isn’t it,” he spat between twists. Suddenly, he stopped and his smile died in his eyes. He must have spotted the red figure above, and fear gnawed at his face. He began muttering numbers, thrashing in the metal around him, lifting the chair that held him as he did. “Nine-hundred ninety-three! Gah! seven to a thousand! Damn the number, of all of Muspel, why that number?!” He looked straight up to the ceiling and howled, “Get me out, beiskaldi!” A woman’s voice shrieked from above as the hand again reached out to catch a drop from the red creature's tooth. Loki struggled harder against the chains, but it was no use. He muttered numbers again, but all I could catch was the number nine over and over. He strained his face as far away from the chains as he could, making his entire body shake in a violent motion, then let out a blood-curdling scream. Streaks trailed down his face and he strained his neck, trying not

43 to touch the metal, sobbing. The woman above wailed and called to him in a language I couldn’t understand. My heart felt like it was crushing in on itself upon hearing that sound, I wanted to yell to Vidar to cut him loose, but I steadied myself. ‘He knows what he’s doing,’ was what I told myself. Meanwhile, Ágyl walked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, making me realize that I was shaking uncontrollably. Vidar hardened his eyes, “The sword, Loki,” he said sternly, “for your freedom, the blade and safe passage into Helheim for the man and the elf.” Loki struggled once again against the metal, looking up to the ceiling, then back at Vidar. He spat in his face. Eyes burning, Vidar turned from Loki’s meager form and taunted him, “From what I hear, a thousand drops of pure acid venom drop out of that snake’s mouth every day.” Crouching down, he moved closer to his face, “Your wife may save your body from continuous pain, but nothing can stop gravity. How painful is it, a thousand drops, all in one go? And breaking the chains would mean desiccating your own children’s bodies, what a vendetta my brother had… What is it now, nine hundred ninety-nine?” Loki’s face suddenly strained uncontrollably, veins popping out in his forehead, “Alright! Fine! I’ll do it, just get me out, get me out!” “Say it, what are you delivering us?” Loki was hyperventilating now, “Ahh! The blade! The blade, Skirnir!” “AND?!” Vidar roared “Passage to Helheim! Safe passage! Cross the bridge! Now let me out! Get me out!” “No tricks until the task is done. Your word, put it to oath you devil!”

Loki screamed a curse, then gave in, “By the right eye of Odin that watches all there is, the hammer of Thor who punishes, and the eyes and ears of Heimdall himself, I swear to you my word! Now by Muspel, let me out!” Finally satisfied, Vidar took another flask from his belt and splashed a red liquid on the chains that held Loki. In a split second the metal became entrails and Loki rushed away, stumbling to the ground just before a cascade of the acid venom singed the space behind him. The chair and the entrails disintegrated as Loki watched. He let out a sob, squeezing his eyes shut and laying his head on the ground. ------Vidar gave him little time before he ran out of patience. “Now the sword” He ordered. I tried to talk Vidar down, but he waved me off. So instead I bent over Loki, who had already sat up on his knees and now stared blankly at the spot he had come from. “Are you alright?” I asked. Straining to look at his eyes, but they were covered by his mop of hair, which was dreaded in odd places. Suddenly he stood, straightened himself and strode up to Vidar, lifting his chin proudly. He left his agony on the ground behind him. “Well you’ve gotten fat, haven’t you? Didn’t know I was quite so important to your existence, did you?” Vidar simply punched him in the stomach, and lightly though it seemed, Loki almost choked, “The sword, remember your oath, even Heimdall can see you from here. He will have your head knocked off by Thor for breaking this oath” “ ‘Course,” he wheezed, touching his neck. Standing straight again with some difficulty, he gave a pained smile and pulled the gray strands of hair from his head. Instantly, the hair became a sword, and dropped to the ground with a loud clang.

“Ta-da!” he said, waving his hands. Then rolled his eyes and sat on the ground. From the entrance, a woman came running down the path, a long black braid trailing behind her. Loki groaned. She came right up to him, slapping him hard on the face and speaking in the same strange language again. He didn’t look like he was listening. Meanwhile, I walked up to the sword that had moments before been Loki’s hair, and examined it. The silver blade had rune-like markings all the way from point to hilt. Other markings were mixed in as well, all in strokes and clusters of three. The hilt had a yellow jewel plated into the middle like a cat's eye pupil, and curved like the tusk of a bull. The surrounding metal was silver and laced with veins of a black substance, moving like ink in water. “Well go on and pick it up,” Ágyl began, “But be warned, there’s little I can prepare you for.” I gripped the hilt and lifted it into the air when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my hand, but I couldn’t release the hilt. The sword moved from my hand, but I still felt it there, and the blade turned point blank at my chest and plunged straight into my sternum. But not really. I had seen it come at me, but it disappeared as I prepared for a stabbing pain to the chest. My vision went black and I saw the blade in a void. “Do you accept me?” it seemed to ask. I didn’t know what to say, it was a sword after all. But I felt calm and took a deep draught of breath and my vision was restored again, the image of Ágyl in front of me and Loki sneering from the side, pushing a way the woman beside him to watch. I pulled down the sleeve of my shirt to inspect the place I had seen the sword hit, but there was no mark. Instead there was a dark black tattoo of the sword inked into my shoulder, hilt up.

Ágyl bounced his staff on the ground again and frowned. “Where did it go?” he asked “It became a tattoo, on my arm” “Right or left? Is the blade pointing down or up?” Now I was confused, what did it matter? “Left arm, the blade points down, with the hilt at my shoulder,” I answered. He smiled and touched the scar behind his ear, “Good” Loki walked up behind Ágyl and inspected his face, “Don’t I know you, elf?” “Ágyl” he answered, “we met in Alfheim long ago, when you stole Skirnir from Freyr, I am his ambassador for arms dealing” A look of recognition came onto Loki’s face. “The blind fellow, right?” He asked, moving around him and lifting his foot as if to kick him over. Loki was about to strike, when Ágyl made the smallest movement, lifting his staff and striking Loki in the abdomen with it. “Yes, I am still quite as helpless as I was before,” Ágyl crowed. “Wonderful,” Loki groaned, “but why have you come with a human?” “Why don’t you ask him” Loki turned to me and came close, “Who do you think you are, coming here?” “My name is Hugrekki. I’ve been given a quest by Mimir, and it has led me to you. And now to Helheim” I explained, careful not to say too much. He looked at me strangely for a long while, then looked around. “I know what you do, and where you go. There is no number of weapons that will help you. Despite the children's stories you may have heard murtr, dragons are smart, clever beings, not to mention

47 impenetrably strong. You can’t take him head on, not even with a sword that can fight on its own” “Heroism depends on lost causes” I retorted, another flame of pride welling up in my lungs. Suddenly the woman who had spoken to him on the ground came up next to him. “Don’t listen to him,” she started. Gesturing her arm away from Loki. A white cluster of scars ran all the way up her arm to her shoulder. Her dress sleeve was tattered and burnt at the edges of the one sleeve. “Siguna!” Loki spoke down at her. She ignored him. “I raised that dragon in Helheim, he has weaknesses like any other creature,” she finished. ------Many times, Loki tried to stop her from speaking, but every time she pushed him away and continued. She told us how she had found the dragon in Helheim and decided to care for it, even naming it ‘Heidur’, Icelandic for honor. “Seeing as my husband was philandering with all manner of creatures, not to mention other women, building an army of sons and daughters for himself” She explained, looking at Loki. No wonder he didn’t want her telling the story, “I took it upon myself to take care of the abandoned serpent. “It wasn’t until Hela was born that he was renamed ‘Nidhogge’, she turned him against the light and abused him for his great abilities. You see, Heidur was not magical, but he needed to ingest magic from other objects to be able to survive. For a long time, he helped me balance the darkness in Helheim, but Hela stole him for other purposes.” Siguna scowled at Loki, then resumed her tale. “As you know, Nidhogge now sups on the life force of Yggdrasil, and while many dragons take their strength from trees, but Nidhogge was

48 special, he drained the Great Tree of its magic as well as its life water. There’s no telling what Hela did to that poor creature, but upon returning from my own travels, he had begun to serve her. There was no part of Heidur that was left.” She paused for a long while, and Vidar gave her some water from a pouch on his belt. Then he turned to Ágyl, “We should not stay any longer. Soon it will be morning, and if we have to hide these two, we shall have to get you all out of the city now.” Ágyl agreed, and we all followed Vidar up and down the long path of winding stairs and hills, back up to the palace of Odin, as the sound of searing rock faded into the distance.

Once we came to the shining gold that made up the city, we quickly made our way out what Vidar called, “the back door” of the palace, which was really just a smaller version of the gigantic entrance of the front gates. People bustled around the streets, but not quite so many as I had seen in Alfheim. I guessed they all feasted indoors at this time, thinking back to the stories I had read about Asgard, and of course the first-hand stories from Ágyl. Vidar constantly reminded Loki of his oath, with particular emphasis on the safe clause. To that, Loki only rolled his eyes or insulted him. When we came to the balcony of the Bifrost, Heimdall met us at the entrance. “A bit of a late-night stroll for you, eh?” He spoke like he had seen us coming from miles away, and was waiting for us. Which, of course, he could and was.

Loki refused to look at him, avoiding his golden eyes like the venom of his torturer, but Siguna smiled at him and Vidar shook his hand. “This is where I leave you,” Vidar said after exchanging a few words with Heimdall. He addressed each one of us in turn, “Ágyl, I hope to see you again my friend. Hugrekki, good luck with your quest. And m’ Lady, try to keep away from too much trouble” but before he turned away he shot a look at Loki, “Never mistake my intentions, releasing you from your bonds was not a matter of personal opinion. I will still never forgive you.” And with a cold sweep of his eyes, he strode away back to the castle. ------“So how exactly do we get to Helheim? Do we take the Bifrost like for all the other realms? I never saw it mentioned anywhere.” I asked, wondering how Hel would really look in person. “It is not directly connected by the Bifrost, I can only get you as close as the further end of Gyoll’s bridge, the entrance. But even this is a callusing journey… not to mention all the other harrowing feats... down to the base of Yggdrasil,” Heimdall explained, turning his sword and dipping it into the mist below the balcony, a scene of red flickering in a window-like image. “Alright then,” Loki put in, impatiently, “Let’s have a go at it, shall we, the old Asgardian way into Helheim” He crossed over near Heimdall, and we all stood in the Bifrost circle as Heimdall inverted the image from the mist into a rainbow, carrying us down to Hel. Although I had been told many times, I never thought I would intentionally go to hell, but I guess it doesn’t count if you're escorted by the father of the goddess who rules over Hel, however that works. We approached the gate over what Loki called ‘Gyoll’s bridge’, the way into Hel. The gates were made of tall golden pillars, crossed at odd

50 angles to create different rune-like symbols. The gaps in the metal shimmered with an enchanted light, and on either side of the great gates were two leaning stones, ending in a sharp point at the top. Loki stepped forward and, chanting a few words, the golden gates descended into the rock beneath them, letting the two stones fall with a reverberating crash. “Nidhogge dwells at the foot of Yggdrasil’s greatest root. That is three floors down,” Loki said, gesturing at the landscape, “Do your worst... So long Hugleysi” “What do you mean ‘so long’? You’re under oath to bring us safely passed the gates, I’m sure Vidar didn’t strike those words so specifically for nothing” I said as he was walking away. He stopped in his steps, “Gah, the nerve!” he sneered, walking towards me. Siguna stepped in front of him, “He’s right you know. You expect them to survive past them Loki? You must help in evading them.” He gritted his teeth, but walked on, passing the gate and waving us to follow. A giant dog pounced on top of Loki with a sharp bark. Shocked, I ran to help him, but instead of coming up on a mutilated face, the dog was licking him, gobs of saliva dripping off its teeth. I looked on the scene with disgusted horror and Siguna leapt past me. “Garm!” she called. The dog lifted his two great ears and sat on his haunches. He glanced at me and growled, his eyes going red. Siguna spoke to him in the strange language, which I now took to be Icelandic. Loki stood up in the background, soaked in slobber, his head practically on fire. I stood back by Ágyl and watched. The legends I had heard of Garm the Hound were all too menacing to be this silver-furred ball of fluff.

“I imagine he has been trained only to bring the devil out when there are dead souls around. The purpose of Helheim is to keep the souls tortured, after all,” Ágyl explained, listening to Siguna speak to Garm. I looked out into the distance. Helheim’s land was unlike anything I had ever seen, there were sections where trees abruptly stopped growing in a perfectly straight line of death. But the trees that grew, they were evil. They had the look of the World tree Yggdrasil- Ash trees- but they were spattered with menacing fungal spores, bursting intermittently with a ludicrous acid-like gas. The leaves fell half scorched, like ashen mist and planted themselves into the dying ground. Siguna turned to me and whispered, “He has agreed to carry you to the entrance of the second level.” I hesitated, “Ágyl can easily help in finding our path,” I said, but she stopped me. She stood and spoke to us both, “There will be much ground to cover, and most of it here is ash and sand, I would think that will prove a problem for you Ágyl. You must take Garm, he will lead you straight.” I looked at Garm, his eyes still glowed their menacing red and his dark ears stood up sharply on top of his head, “If it’s the best way, I suppose” She whistled for the dog and he came close. Sniffing both Ágyl and I, he crouched on all fours. “We will take you until you are past the guardians of the gates, and then Loki’s oath will be complete” Siguna explained, and Loki came up behind, magically dry, and gave a heavy sigh. ------We rode on Garm’s back and the landscape changed yet again. Now great rocks stood towering overhead, planted in a sea of black sand.

Garm’s great paws sifted through the grainy substance. Ágyl had to hold onto both my arms and the dog’s fur for dear life, unable to see in any way now. Suddenly, a strange sound erupted in the distance. Siguna and Loki looked at one another and Garm skidded to a stop. Loki dismounted and Siguna ordered us to do the same. Ágyl slid off the fur-slicked back and made a face when his feet touched the sand. “I can’t see in this substance,” he said, banging his staff on the ground. It merely sunk in the sand, “No vibration.” “Over there,” Loki ordered, pointing to a large rock. “Get behind there” I did as he said and guided Ágyl behind the rock, making sure we were completely hidden from sight. There was the sound again, in between a screech and a scream. Like a lurching metronome. I peered around the corner, but was met with the gnarled side of a face. I twisted back against the rough edge of a rock, backing Ágyl up with me. He held my shoulder, angling his head, trying to listen. “Godslayer,” he whispered, backing further into the rock. I held my breath. Indescribable horror was the face I saw, I couldn’t look closely, and my mind seemed to try and push the image away. I looked back around the rock. The figure stood in front of Loki, who looked up proudly at it. Siguna had drawn a jagged knife and stood close beside Loki. “I’m just passing through. Am I not allowed to do that in my own realm?” Loki demanded of the monster. There was the sound again, but then the creature spoke in fragmented syllables, “I smell god,” it screeched again. Garm barked at the creature.

“Well yes you lousy twit, I AM A GOD. What kind of creatures does Hela make these days, idiots like you and we should all be doomed to Odin’s hand.” The creature bent against Loki’s words, then spoke once again, “...Odin?... I smell...Asgard” Siguna stuck her knife up the creature's nose and Garm crouched behind her, “Smell it now? We were just there. Steer clear of that scent and maybe you won’t lose your head” she said, pulling the sword and cleaning it on the skirt of her dress. The creature screeched again, louder this time, and I had to cover my ears. It ran off, burrowing itself in the sand and leaving a trail of its path. It seemed safe to come out again, and I led Ágyl from behind the rock. “That should be enough to save your skin from any accidental encounters” Loki said, “Now I am leaving.” He looked over to Siguna, waiting. She came to my side and pressed a stone in the palm of my hand. “It’s true what Loki says,” she began, “there is no way to win when facing Nidhogge head on, you must be clever. This is a stone I stole from Hela long ago. I knew eventually Heidur would need to be killed once he became Nidhogge. “Hela, in attempting to make Nidhogge impenetrable, she trained him with fireshock. It comes from the depths of Helheim and essentially plays the heartstrings, sending and keeping pain in its victims. This stone is a dose of that fireshock. Hela had to have a way to make him submissive at least to her, and her choice will be fatal. With this stone, when placed in the center of the chest, Nidhogge will be jumped into his hypersensitive state, leaving him vulnerable to any kind of magical object. Your new

54 companion, Skirnir, should do the trick.” she finished, looking back at Loki, who was getting impatient. I closed my hand around the rock, “Thank you.” She nodded and turned, patting Garm on the head and saying a few words. The hound crouched once again and she helped us mount him. Then she turned back, grabbing hold of Loki’s hand. The scar up her arm was still a vibrant shade of white from the splashes of acid. She looked up at him and smiled, he noticed her gaze and looked down at her. They vanished. ------Garm galloped on for what seemed like hours, taking care to steer away from any screeching we happened to hear. A few times the sand shifted and two of the godslayers packed together and moved on in silence. Luckily, Garm’s fur was thick enough for us to crouch and remain unseen. I had studied many of the maps of Helheim, but without Ágyl’s help, it was hard to know exactly where Garm was taking us, and I was still suspicious of the massive hound. Suddenly, Ágyl gave a yelp. “Aha! Solid ground. I was blind, but now I see, eh?” Garm came to a stop and Ágyl jumped off his back, moving his feet in a jig motion, then gave a bounce of his staff on the ground. “The fire runs deep,” he said, “I can feel it in the ground” “Three levels, that’s what Loki said,” I commented. Ágyl turned to Garm, “This is as far as you go eh? Fair enough.” Garm only growled in answer. Now Ágyl led the way, and I found that Garm really had been leading us right. Next thing I knew, we came to a steep set of stairs, carved into the ground and descending. Darkness crept from the hole in the ground and I heard a faint sound coming from the depths.

“This must be the second level, then” I said, “Any idea which realm it leads to?” Ágyl listened closely and bounced his staff again, “Much changes in Helheim, we shall see when we come to it.” And with that, he descended, and I followed close behind, hesitant in the darkness. From out of the side of a great cliff we took our last step. The ground underneath our feet was thick and covered in a thin layer of water. It was impossible to hide our footsteps, a constant sound of drip-drop, shh. My boots squelched under a patch of mud as we came to the wide-open landscape of the second floor of Hel. Here the sky was covered in dark clouds, laced with green lightning. In places where the light found its way out of the clouds, it became like glowing eyes in the distance. Dotting the land were hundreds of walking figures, some human in form, but they moved like there was no life left in their limbs. We passed a group of three, and although together in a cluster, they didn’t seem to comprehend that there was anyone around. I tried to call out to one of them, but their eyes looked right through me, stark white and glazed Ágyl gave a foreboding face, “They are souls, Hugrekki. Tortured souls, they will not hear you” I touched my shoulder, for some reason, I felt a tingling sensation where Skirnir had marked me. “Strange,” I mumbled. We moved on. ------Ágyl led us through his path of least resistance, and we tried our best to keep hidden. I pulled the hooded cloak tighter around me, if it still worked here, it was worth a try. My shoulder felt numb now where Skirnir’s tattoo lay.

Eventually, we came upon a patch of open land with nowhere to hide and no side to stick to. The only way to cross to where we needed to go was by going out into the open. Our footsteps padded across the water-covered ground. Everywhere, figures still roamed around, oblivious to everything. And then, out of nowhere I saw a man shaking one of the figures violently. I tapped Ágyl’s shoulder and explained what I had seen. “I think he’s awake,” I said. Ágyl craned his head and listened. Once the man had ceased shaking the figure, he looked anxiously about, “Can anyone hear me?” he yelled into the air. Suddenly, he met my gaze and he ran in our direction. But his eyes were still white. I backed up as he gained speed and came closer. “Thank heavens. You don’t know how long I’ve been alone!” He stumbled on his words and sobbed on the ground. “It’s alright now. Do you know where you are? What’s your name?” I asked, trying to see what exactly he knew. “Einrad,” he breathed, “My name is Einrad. I’m a metalsmith for the dwarves in Svartelheim. All I remember is one day I woke up here. I don’t know where I am. I don’t even know how I got to wherever here is. And nobody will listen to me!” “No need to startle yourself,” Ágyl said, crouching down in the water and putting his hand to the man’s forehead. “We think your one of the souls here,” I explained, “I’m Hugrekki, this is Ágyl, and you’re in Helheim” “Helheim? How? I... How did you get here then?” “He’s a soul alright. His energy’s all scattered. This place must have messed with his memory,” Ágyl noted, standing again. I answered the man, “We’re here on a quest. Have you heard of the dragon Nidhogge?”

Einrad nodded. “I’ve heard the legends, the whispers of Ragnarök too, does that have something to do with why you're here? Are you not dead?” “No. We came to slay Nidhogge. He is imminent in the success of the Vanir, and will kill the World tree if he’s not stopped” “We must be moving on Hugrekki” Ágyl tapped his stick to the ground again, splashing water. “But-” I started. Einrad cut me off, “No! Please let me come with you. If I am dead as you say, at least let me be useful in death.” I looked at Ágyl. I had thought the same words many times in my life. This man needed a second chance. Suddenly I felt Skirnir again, as if it were pressing on the nerves in my arm. I gripped my arm, crying out, and to my surprise, I felt Skirnir’s hilt in my palm. I pulled at the metal grip and the sword emerged from the mark in my shoulder. I cried out, and Skirnir floated out of my hand and into thin air. It turned its blade to me. I felt a pressure deep in my mind and I took a deep breath again, visualizing an opening valve, and the pressure subsided. Skirnir turned its blade on Einrad and disappeared into his stomach. Not a moment later, Einrad was coughing and choking, blood spurting from his mouth. Then he spit up a strange, moving, metallic device. Skirnir emerged and faced me once again, returning as the tattoo on my shoulder. There was no more tingling. Einrad held the metal device in his hand, and it moved again. He dropped it. Upon hitting the water, it sparked and lay still. Ágyl poked the device with his staff and his face grew dark. “Leave it. Come along boy, you’ll come with us”

Einrad and I exchanged looks, then followed Ágyl. His eyes were still a stark white, but if Ágyl didn’t feel anymore evil within him, it must have been a scar from his time in Helheim. It seemed no use to argue with him. Before long, we found more wandering souls who were awake, and I realized they all (both the aware and oblivious) had white eyes, like a blank canvas. Many of the wanderers we talked to thought they were going mad. No matter how much I tried to convince them of their circumstance, they refused to believe me and ran. Now, we came upon a woman, lying in the water on the ground, her arms wrapped around herself. I ran over to where she lay, Einrad trailing near behind. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked anxiously. I ignored him, shaking the woman. I wasn’t sure if she could feel anything, all of the other oblivious souls hadn’t felt any touch, and I waited. “Miss” Einrad said aloud, “open your eyes, we’re going to help you” To my surprise, her eyes opened. The same white irises looked around blankly. “You're not real,” she said and her eyes glassed over. Einrad struggled to lift her to a sitting position. “You may be dead, but this is real, wake up. This is no time for sleep. Your one of the lucky ones. I’m just like you” Ágyl strolled over, tapping his staff on the ground. “Hugrekki. Skirnir” he said softly. I unsheathed Skirnir from my shoulder once again, and just as the last time, it plunged itself into the woman's stomach, and she coughed up the metal object. This time Skirnir sliced it in half, then returned to my shoulder.

Now the woman was fully awake, looking up at me, “What did you do to me?” she asked, looking down, horrified, at the metal object. “My sword saved you. There’s no telling what kind of damage that thing was doing to you, what it does to everyone here.” I gestured around. “What’s your name, lad?” Einrad asked “Ýrr” “Or?” I repeated. “No. Ýrr,” she stood, stepping back from Einrad, upon spotting his eyes. “Don’t be afraid. Yours are the same. They all have them. We’re dead, Miss. In Helheim.” He gestured to the landscape. She put her hand to her head, “Dead?” Ágyl cut in, “We don't have time to explain now. We must keep moving. Einrad may tell you on the way. You can stay with us, or find your own way. Our path is not for everyone.” I walked with Ágyl, while Einrad and Ýrr followed close behind. I often turned to be sure they were still there. They talked quietly as Einrad explained much of what I had already told him. I listened enough to deduce that they weren’t spies or Vanir in disguise, but I still wondered why they would be in Helheim in the first place. What had they done to land them here? Ágyl and I talked long about Helheim’s properties, and the process of souls in the levels. I followed little of what he said, but none of what he told me gave any good impressions for the two following behind us. I resigned to keep the things Ágyl had said at the back of my mind. I would let him read their energy, but I would judge them only by their actions. And from what I had seen, they helped each other. Soon we heard the crashing of waves, and felt the grainy sand again. But this time it was not soft, layered sand like the black cliffs of the first

60 level, but a hard, compact, sand, beaten down by the giant rhythm of the waves. “Náströnd,” Ágyl breathed. “This is the only thing I never believed in. The corpse shore” He wasn’t wrong. A closer look at the ground and I realized the sand was pieces of bone. The waves swept and carried what were now only bags of flesh on and off the shore. Not far off, a round hole was sunk into the ground, and the sea spray washed over it, sending the leaves of a green vine-like plant flying back and forth. How anything could grow like that, I didn’t know, but something told me that it was the way to Yggdrasil’s root.

Suddenly, Ýrr was running for the giant waves, stopping just shy of the chasm below, looking over the edge. Einrad cried out and ran after her. I was utterly confused. Running up behind them with Ágyl, Einrad held Ýrr fast by the arms. “What did you say to her?” I demanded, as she struggled against him. “Only that we were going to destroy the dragon Nidhogge. She panicked, said there was no such thing as dragons...” I walked around, facing Ýrr, and Ágyl inspected the chasm with continuous taps of his staff. “Where did you come from?” I asked, “Einrad remembers Svartelheim, his realm before he died, what realm are you from?” “I’m not from a realm,” she screamed, “I’m from Ireland. And there are no such things as dragons, and I am not dead, I just need to wake up!” I had thought as much. She had reminded me of the fear I felt when Mimir showed up at my door. Now it felt like years since that day.

I unstrapped my sword from my back, signaling for Einrad to let go of her. I dropped the sword in Ýrr’s two hands. “Have you ever held a sword?” I asked. She shook her head. I quickly picked up the blade and the edge sliced her left hand, it was a small cut, but she flinched, drawing her hand away. “We feel pain to know we are alive” I said. “You may have died once, but you still feel the sharpness of a blade. You have been given a second chance, just like me, to prove that you have a purpose.” She looked at her hand, rubbing it with her thumb and glared at me. I continued “I came from Midgard too. Which is the realm of earth in this world. There’s no describing how much I did not understand, and I was guided every step of the way. But do not let your fear of the unknown stop you from moving forward. “Out there, in those fields, it is a wasteland, but here you are among friends. Einrad has been alone, just like you, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to be left again. He has made his choice to come with me and aid me in my task of killing a dragon, which is a purpose I’ve begun to feel in my very bones. “The choice is up to you, we offer you action, but if you wish, I will leave my blade with you and you may find your own way.” I finished, putting the blade back in her hands. Einrad waited urgently behind me, Ýrr gave the blade back. “I’m dead? And this is a magical realm?” she asked, straightening. “Then why shouldn’t I be able to…” She stooped down and reached into the tough sand, pulling out a long, jagged bone, holding it like a sword. Einrad stuttered, “How, how’d you manage that?”

She looked at me, “Suddenly I didn’t feel hopeless anymore, and felt like I could. So I did… I don’t want to live like this anymore, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to help you, if it’s all that’s left for me now.” I took a deep breath, looking over at where Ágyl stood waiting, “Into the belly of the beast then.” We descended down the green, laced vines. ------The closer we came to the bottom, the hotter it became. The especially green leaves steamed in the heat, releasing their life water into the air. As I took a breath, I felt my muscles straighten and my eyes cleared. I hadn’t noticed they were blurring. As if out of instinct, I remember the vial of elixir Mimir had given me before she left me in Alfheim. I pulled it from my pack as we continued to climb, and drank it, but saved a bit of it and passed it to Einrad and Ýrr, we would all need our strength for this battle. When we reached the bottom, darkness shifted in, unexpected because of the heat, I had thought it would all be fire. Instead, a green light glinted in the distance, the shadow of a tall tower reigning over the landscape. But it wasn’t a tower, I realized the spiked wooden pieces that created the dark form was the bole of Yggdrasil. Mimir hadn’t been wrong, the tree was dying. Ýrr gasped behind me, “Look!” she cried I followed her gaze and with the next glint of light, the form of a great serpent's body edged over the horizon. I brought the stone from my bag and motioned for everyone to come close. I explained the plan to Ýrr and Einrad, Ágyl inputting counsel as I spoke.

As we moved closer and closer to the root of the tree, it became cool and damp, like the grave. The dragon slunk around the tree, but I could never get a good glimpse of its head. Ágyl and I gathered at a folding in

63 the tree’s root, while Einrad and Ýrr climbed up to the ledge of a tall cliff. Suddenly a green light shone from around the tree and the bark beside me shriveled and dropped, turning to ash as it hit the ground. I reached to touch it, but another piece fell down on my hand, burning me like an ice burn. I pulled my hand away and Ágyl tapped his staff lightly on the tree. “Yggdrasil weeps. It is dying,” he said solemnly. “Even more of a reason to finish our quest,” I said, signaling to Einrad and Ýrr to find their opening. “Anytime now little dragon” I whispered. It made me feel better to think of the dragon as small, especially since it stood just behind me through bits of dying root, seemingly as big as a mountain. I had to be careful, Siguna had told me to be clever. I held fast the rock in my hand, it was my only weapon that I could only use once, and it was the most important. The next moment, Nidhogge moved, raising his head from the bottom of the tree. Einrad and Ýrr saw their opening and waited, just like I had told them. They began to throw rocks, yelling and screaming at the monster. Nidhogge turned and showed his teeth. With any luck, he would think they were just some other souls from Helheim and look to devour them. “Ready Ágyl?” He nodded, tapping his staff on the ground continuously. “I will watch him,” he said. Perfect. I ran out from behind the tree, my sword in one hand, and the rock in the other. I didn’t draw Skirnir yet, it was a magical object and Nidhogge would sense it in an instant. While he was distracted, I looked for the center of his armored scales, trying to find a place to set off the stone.

Just as I was preparing to place it, my luck ran out. Nidhogge spun around, whipping his head towards me and sending me flying back into the crevices of the tree. I hid. Nidhogge made a noise as if he were trying to speak, but all that came out was a sound like screeching metal. But the next time he began, he spoke differently. I listened closely and noticed that every time the dragon moved his jaw to speak, it was a different language each time. He roared, a common language for all people. I ducked behind more of the roots in Yggdrasil, trying to escape his great black eyes that somehow always found me. “Hugrekki!” Ágyl cried, “the stone!” I still held the stone grasped in my hand, what did he mean? I couldn’t use it now, Nidhogge already knew I was here. Then I understood. I rolled the rock through the tree to Ágyl, then ducked in and out of Nidhogge’s sight, like a whack-a-mole. Nidhogge stared with blank eyes, apparently unamused. He said something again, in hard Icelandic words. He struck at me, jaws extended and I was clamped in between them. I caught a glimpse of Ágyl, he had put the stone into Nidhogge’s scales, and now took his staff and struck the stone, setting it off like a bomb. Nidhogge dropped me, and fell back, his neck extended, towards the cliff. Einrad and Ýrr saw their chance. They jumped down from the ledge, blades in hand, and plunged the two points into either side of Nidhogge’s skull, right above each eye. His head was drawn back even more, exposing his long neck, scales jutting out from their creases. I quickly unleashed Skirnir, readying my own sword, and with two quick motions, Skirnir sliced Nidhogge’s neck and I sliced his middle off, leaving him falling in three jagged pieces.

Nidhogge screamed. I didn’t think dragons could scream, but whatever he did was a heart-wrenching cry, and for a second his eyes showed green. But when he collapsed they were black again. Einrad and Ýrr climbed down from the cliff, and Ágyl walked over, holding his staff broken in two. He threw it down to the ground as he felt himself nearing the dragon. I sheathed Skirnir, then my own sword. I sat on the ground. I couldn’t believe it was over. We had killed a dragon, but it felt all too easy. Had we done something wrong? Ágyl broke off one of the dragon's horns and tapped it on the ground. He now used it in place of his staff. “He was already dying,” Ágyl said, frowning. “He was fighting something too, inside of him, I could feel it” I looked at him strangely, and began to speak, but was cut off by a huge bellow from the head behind Ágyl. We all backed away in turn. Nidhogge’s jaws let out a ray of green light, directing it at Yggdrasil’s root. Then he became still and the color drained out of his scales. Suddenly the base of the tree Yggdrasil began to melt, as if someone had poured acid on it. It was being eaten by some kind of substance. The tree was dying, and quickly. I scooped up dirt to try and blot out the creeping substance, but it was no use, it kept growing. The substance burnt my hands and I pulled away. There was a hole in the tree the size of a man now. Einrad walked up behind me and Ýrr put her hand on my shoulder. “We failed,” I said, “I’m so sorry” But as I spoke the words, Einrad and Ýrr moved closer towards the tree. I straightened from my knees, “What are you doing?”

The two of them climbed into the trunk, laying themselves on the desiccating tree. The spreading stopped, and began to sink inwards, eating at their flesh instead of the tree’s trunk. “No!” I pleaded, “Get out of there, what are you doing?” I struggled with Ýrr’s arm and tried to pull her out, doing the same with Einrad’s. They wouldn’t budge. Einrad cried out, half his face was already wounded by the acidic fungus. “Don’t,” he said, “It’s just our bodies mate. You gave us a chance to redeem our souls. We’ll see you in Valhalla” The acid began to spread faster, and it covered them. I struggled trying to make it stop, but my efforts were useless as they were on the tree. “Ágyl!” I cried, “Help me!” “I cannot,” he said, “they have chosen, and the tree has accepted them” I sobbed, pressing my head against the tree, whose bark was looking better by the second. “I failed,” I whispered. ------After a long while, an eagle flew down from the tree, looking at Nidhogge’s dead form. “Finally, he’s dead!” squeaked a small voice. It didn’t fit with the form of the majestic eagle that stood before me. Something small moved on top of the eagle’s back. A tiny head popped up next to the eagle’s, it was a squirrel. “All day we had to hear him chewing on dead people. Then all night he would come over and suck the life out of our Yggdrasil. Very rude if you ask me,” the squirrel crossed its tiny paws as if they were arms, making mock sucking sounds with his face.

“Ratatösk,” the eagles hissed, it had a feminine voice, “quiet down, these people have just lost their friends” The squirrel looked at the tree, then he ducked into the eagle's feathers again. The eagle’s eyes softened, “Thank you. You have saved the sacred life of Yggdrasil. For your courage I shall return you to Asgard. You have had a long journey, Hugrekki, Ágyl. I still could not bring myself to speak, but somehow, I felt that she knew what I longed to say. “Do not despair Hugrekki. It is not for us to decide others’ fate, only our own “she spread her wings. Ágyl bowed his head, tapping his new dragon horn staff on the ground. I helped him mount the eagle, then climbed on myself, holding onto the feathers. The little squirrel sat right in front of me. “Is it safe now?” he whispered, looking back at the eagle’s head, “You saved the realms little human, don’t look so glum. Many heroes would have liked to be you. You could go home now” I didn’t know what he meant by that, but he turned away and sat on top of the eagle’s head as we ascended towards Asgard. I thought about my small home, now empty and dark, realizing just how empty and homeless Midgard would seem after this. Home… ------The eagle landed at the balcony of the Bifrost, she had flown all the way up from Helheim. Mimir waited next to Heimdall, head under her arm. She smiled, “You have completed the task I set before you” Heimdall gave a grim nod to me. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t feel like I’d accomplished anything, only that things had fallen in place around me.

“Mimir, I don’t think I have done anything to be praised for,” was all I said in reply. Ágyl came up beside me and touched my shoulder, and suddenly I felt a vision of the dead dragon, and I held my own sword next to Skirnir, except I looked different. Einrad and Ýrr stood beside me. Ágyl removed his hand and the vision faded. “It is time we go our separate ways,” he began, “It has been an adventure, one I never thought I would have again. I think you understand that.” I put out my hand to shake, but thought about it once again. And again, he laughed and gripped my hand tight. “Farewell, dear Hugrekki. And have courage,” his voice broke and he looked at Heimdall. Ágyl was engulfed in rainbow light, on his way back to Alfheim, and he vanished. Mimir turned on me, but all I could do was watch the spot where Ágyl had been. I have a foreboding feeling. Everything was ending. “Hugrekki, you have a choice now. Time is different here in Asgard… in all the realms. You will have time to live out the rest of your life in Midgard. If you wish, you can go home.” I looked down at her head by her side, “Home?…” I whispered.

The journey home was long and callusing. Ice and snow piled higher and higher the closer I came to the town. My walking staff barely held together. I dug the staff into the snow at the precipice of the small bridge, bringing with me almost all of my weight, when I was tossed into the snow face-first with a snap. Stumbling up to a sitting position, empty

69 handed and my clothes dripping with melted snow, I looked down at the sight of my broken staff. I could feel the snow drying under my legs and the cold spreading through to my skin, but I felt too weak to stand. If I could not carry my own weight home, I should be as useless as my broken staff; left in the snow to rot and mold until nothing but food for mites and soil. I felt more alone than ever, my vision blurred by the snowfall in front of me. I shut my eyes, dejected. In the end, I thought, I would get up, so why waste time sitting and waiting for the future? But I sat, and I waited for nothing. Mimir had given me the choice to go home or stay, so why didn’t I stay? Finally, grabbing fistfuls of snow from in front of me, I managed to hoist myself up on two legs, adjusted the straps on my pack and continued on, but feeling a weight as if I were being pulled back, maybe to a place I might be useful, in any sense, if anything for a purpose. By the time I returned to the single stone of my front doorstep—the same stone that Mimir’s rune had been carved into to keep away Odin’s watchful eye—my feet were completely soaked through despite my leather walking boots. Everything was exactly in place, just where I left it. As I pushed open the great oak door, I smiled a bit, thinking back to how helplessly afraid I had been that night, seeing Mimir carrying her head. Now I had two swords in my personal arsenal (and one magical), certainly enough now to keep fear away. I had always loved the smell of home, but as I passed through the threshold of the door, it smelled strange. The room was dark, and the air, despite a terrible dampness, seemed empty. The chairs were cold. The bed was dusty. Everything was in the right place, but nothing seemed right. What was the saying? ‘Brave men can live well anywhere, a coward dreads all things.’ What does it mean then, if I find my life meaningless, and my own home unwell?

I waved off my thoughts and resolved to start a fire. I took my own sword from across my back and placed it neatly above the fireplace. And unsealing Skirnir from my shoulder, I crossed it against my own sword. This time, there would be no surprise visit to bring me back to Asgard, the sword was really useless now. Then filing around, I flicked on every light that normally suited the air of the house. Filling the tea kettle, I watched the water boil, poured a cup, let the leaves steep, and sat at the table. I looked around at my newly rekindled home, but I felt the same. Sipping my tea, I was warmed considerably, to the core of my sternum, but I fidgeted in my chair and was not peaceful. It felt wrong to sit, wrong to feel warm, wrong to sip tea in my own home, wrong to sheath my sword when it could be needed elsewhere, wrong to do nothing, waiting for the world to end… I touched my left shoulder where Skirnir had been tattooed. But now my skin was empty. No reminisce that my adventure ever happened. I pulled out the small journal Mimir had given to me. It felt stupid and I was utterly embarrassed for myself, but I grabbed a pen and began to scribble on the pages: Mimir said I should write about myself. She told me to think of it as a journal of my own story, but only that I write myself as if I were an outsider. She said it would help me see my accomplishments with pride. But as I try to write, when I think of myself as the “hero” of the story, I never understand it. Perhaps I had won, but what about now, after everything? The world will end and my corpse will look just as cold as anyone else’s. I do not long to be the hero, I simply wanted to be useful. At least in an army you have some sense of fellowship, of use, like a cog that a clock needs in order to move forward. Perhaps that is the reason men fight, why the Aesir face suffering certain doom: because they know there is a greater cause. A quest and a purpose are strongest when the sacrifice is intentional, and I have sacrificed little but my time, while

71 others have died for their cause. In my own quest, Mimir says I ‘contributed’ to the preservation of life after Ragnarök, I have done nothing for the now and still I am left without purpose for the present and the future. My life, like the waves of the ocean, are pushing me out, trying to send me back to Asgard, but I have no way to get back. Am I to die away and disintegrate before my own eyes, knowing what I know of the world, and have only my accomplishments to console me? I am isolated and unknown to everyone around me. Although extraordinary my adventure, I have no purpose. Those that died before my eyes were surely sent to Valhalla, but even that would soon be destroyed, so what could there possibly be left for me? My death would mean nothing, when I had the feeling that it could have meant something. Hugrekki I felt a burning pain in my hands, and noticed there was blood on my teacup. I had shattered it. But I simply stared at the jagged marks on my hand, and the pattern of the cup smeared by the blood. After a very long, long while, I felt some strength to stand up once more, and resolved I was in want of sleep. So, cleaning my hands of the shards and blood, I retired to try and find it. ------I had only closed my eyes a few moments, when I awoke again. A foul, metallic smell invaded my nose, and overwhelmed my senses. Sitting up I found pooled all around me, an amalgamation of deep crimson blood. I barely felt my eyes widen, as the form of a tall woman came into my perspective, gently stroking a gigantic wolf who was bent over, licking up the blood like water. The woman looked up at me with red eyes and laughed, a bone crushing, shrieking laugh. I covered my ears, but it was no use. The windows shattered and on the ground. I noticed the

72 shimmering shapes of Einrad and Ýrr, all lying there, scorched. I turned back to the woman, hearing her begin to speak, but it was Einrad’s voice. “We’ll meet you in Valhalla,” she said. Suddenly, the wolf at her side gnashed its teeth at me, and pounced. Stumbling back, I fell off the bed and into the pool of blood beneath me, and I sank.

I jumped out of sleep, feeling my brow dripping with sweat and my ears ringing. Contrary to what I had expected, I was not at home, but still wrapped in the old blanket I had used since the beginning of my journey, laying in the streets of Asgard, shining structures towering overhead. I touched my arm, checking to be sure Skirnir was still there. The black ink still sat etched into my chest. The streets were quiet, but the far-off sound of clanging metal told me soldiers were readying themselves for battle. A taste of metal and I touched my hand to my mouth. Blood. I must have bitten my tongue in my sleep. The image I had seen moments before flashed in my mind, the scene of blood, of the wolf Fenrir, and Hela. A soldier in silver jogged past me, relieved by another for their watch at the gate. I couldn’t help but think of all the heroes in Valhalla, all the gods gearing up for a war they were destined to lose. How, in all of this, every soldier had a purpose and courage to fight for the good of the next generation of human beings, despite imminent death. I suddenly realized that there was no descriptive answer to define what that kind of decision meant, or even what it took to make it, it was simply the knowledge from one individual to the next, of what really matters. Ágyl had understood, his entire culture revolved around the fact, being immortal and all; how, what matters for the future was bigger than the self of the present.

I realized that I might just be coming upon my own purpose, a meaning to my life. In the first part of my dream, nothing seemed right, I felt ridiculous waiting for my own death. Another soldier passed me, and I leapt up, reaching for him. He looked down at my hand on his armor, confused, “Please,” I said. “Is there any armor left befitting to an old man like me?” His brows furrowed underneath his helmet, “Do you not know the prophecy, my brother? I can feel that you are not a soul of Asgard” “I know of it, but dread more that I should die waiting for death than facing it with my own two swords” The soldier straightened and smiled, a warm and knowing smile, “As my father once said, ‘A silly man lies awake all night, Thinking of many things. When morning comes, he is worn with care, And his trouble is just as it was’ Honor to you for knowing courage as great as many heroes before you. I find you true.” He removed his helmet and a mess of blonde hair fell about his face. And he continued, “I am Thor, son of Odin, come, and we will prepare you for battle.” ------I found Mimir at the top of the gates, looking out onto the field that was to be the battleground. Vigrid, she had called it. I could see Heimdall at the balcony of the Bifrost, locking the portals from every realm, in case we could keep the Vanir and their army from pushing their way through. I wore leather armor, my own sword strapped across my back. Thor had said that the leather would allow me to move swiftly in a fight. “When fighting with two swords. Your form means life and death,” he had told me, “let your shoulders not be burdened by metal” I looked up at Mimir, then down where she held her head in her arms. She was in deep contemplation, staring out at the vast landscape. The archers bustled about her, but she made no movements. I looked out

74 at the landscape, the dark water below the Bifrost balcony was completely still. ------

An enormous sound launched itself from the gates opposite where Mimir and I stood. Heimdall had blown his horn, Gjallarhorn and the army of the Aesir was close at hand behind the gates, weapons at the ready. The battle was near. The gates of Asgard creaked open, and a foreboding feeling gripped my lungs. At the front, clad in armor as grey as a thundercloud, was Odin. His armor was simple, but he held a commanding presence. The king of the Aesir rode with a coal-black steed, who carried himself on eight legs, each beating the ground fiercely with every step. Odin led all the Aesir out of the gates at the front, flanked with some eight hundred silver-clad warriors behind him, like a silver ocean. Odin wore an addition of gold adorning both shoulders, making him stand out from the rest, at the forefront of the battle. Soon strange creatures of all sorts began to appear on the Bifrost, breaking the barriers Heimdall had set up. The bridge fell from underneath the hooves of their horses, each devastating trot sent a piece of the glass- like rainbow falling to the sea below. But they kept coming. The bridge cracked and fell, bringing many giants and others of their companions of the Vanir with it, flaunting for anything they could grab hold of to save their lives. Not one rider looked back. And not one creature turned its head; those that fell were left to flounder in the ocean as pointless casualties to certain victory. Leading the army of perpetual darkness were the Vanir. Hela stood beside the giant wolf Fenrir, who was baring his teeth, along with the Midgard serpent, Jormungand, it's shining scales glinting with the light, his eyes cold and gaze sharp. Before them all stood their father, Loki,

75 escaped once again from his punishment. He looked so different now compared to when we had set him free. Taunting and masquerading with every step, he led the army like a puppet master. All his armor seemed more like adornments than real battle pieces. He was covered in gold, jewels patterned around his helmet like a mock-crown. Frost giants, adorned in crude pieces of armor, leather, and iron helmets, spread across the plains of Vigrid in a chaotic pattern. They seemed to outnumber the Aesir just by looking at their height. Unlike the Aesir army, every creature with the Vanir had odd pieces of things that they utilized as armor. Fire demons had chainmail welded to their own skin, and dwarves, what Mimir called the dark elves, held crude axes and sharp-toothed knives. When all beasts and forms approached Vigrid on dry land, a colossal ship in the distance sailed through the rubble, filled with more of the same creatures, coming to assist the Vanir. Odin turned away on his horse, not out of fear or terror, but with a look of pensive thought and grim disgust. He trotted to consult Mimir, whose body was now climbing down from the top of the gates, her head under her arm. I looked down and watched as she jumped down from a few rungs high to meet Odin’s towering form in an upheaval of dust. Odin wore grand armor and a helmet that had an additional silver portion, covering his right eye. It was the first time I had ever seen Odin up close, and even where I stood, high above them, I felt as if he were looking right at me: he brought a grand presence with him. They talked for a long while, and finally when Heimdall blew his horn a second time, Odin remounted. “Goodbye Sleipnir,” Mimir spoke softly to the eight-legged horse. Then, lifting up her head with her arms and kneeling, she raised her voice and spoke words in Icelandic, their ancient speech. She stood and bowed with her head.

“Farewell Mimir. Carry on with all your strength and your spirit will survive” Odin replied, touching the top of her head with his palm. He rode away on Sleipnir, and I decided it was my time to join the entourage of soldiers at the ready and I began to climb down. I passed Mimir and for the first time noticed that her hair was a light shade of red. It’s shoulder-length strands swayed with the wind. Although she stood headless, and carried her head decapitated, in the eyes, she was not menacing at all. When she looked up at me now, her blue eyes seemed to glow like a melting icicle and I realized how young she really looked. Seeing as she was immortalized by Odin after her beheading, she must have been all too young when she was killed by the Vanir. How cruel could anyone be to take such a wise, young life in such a violent way? In that moment, I realized just how evil the Vanir could be. “Even in death, we’ve won,” I assured her, “By destroying the realms, they destroy themselves. Our courage will bring us back, and their cowardice will be their eternal death.” “You understand well,” she answered. “I will be watching and directing all I can. Fight well and fight for your purpose, and when the gates of Valhalla are reopened after the dawn of the first day, there your spirit will be welcome” She smiled, looking up at me, “Until then Hugrekki” ------I rushed to meet the others in formation, and jumped in next to a tall younger man with long arms, he was extremely pale. “You alright, there?” I asked, making sure he would be able to move when the battle began. He jumped slightly and turned to me, looking through his helmet, “Sorry mate, was a bit out of it. I never thought I’d have to die again.” He paused for a moment, turning his spear in his hands, “you died in battle?”

“No.” I said, “but I often wish I had. I had a friend, and had to carry him, home covered in a white sheet. My biggest mistake was that I was not lost with him. All I could think about was how terrifying it must be to die alone...So let us fight today with all our courage!” The soldier nodded, standing his spear on the ground at attention. The air became still and I could hear the deep breath of the horse before me. ------After the Vanir’s army had filled the field and the water, the ground shook. Out of the Bifrost came a giant being, wrapped in scalding flame, shimmering with an evil glow. It was Surt, the giant fire demon who I had read died in Muspelheim, but here he was, alive and burning. The water steamed as he broke the balcony and landed in the water. He raised his sword and sent up a giant flame into the sky. The sun became dark and a menacing glow overtook the field. When the battle began and Odin charged atop Sleipnir, Loki, along with all his children, swiftly retreated towards the middle of their army, letting the ice giants advance first. ‘What exemplary cowards’, I thought and continued towards battle, led by Odin and the mighty Aesir. I saw Freyr and Vidar towards the front, and knew that whatever happened, I would die by the side of real heroes. The battle had begun. Swarms of chaos covered the battlefield. Among my battalion, every silver warrior stood against at least two creatures bearing the mark of the Vanir: a spiked boar. A particularly tall frost giant hurled his axe towards me and I leapt out of the way, but the man just beside me was extinguished in my stead. I drew Skirnir from my shoulder and unstrapped the sword from my back. Skirnir cut down a few Ice Giants who were charging for me, and I swung around and stabbed a shorter giant who availed it.

The Aesir’s army had cut into the middle of the enemy already, but they were flanking us on all sides. A short distance to my right I could just make out the forms of Odin and Thor, fighting side by side against two of their greatest enemies. A massive wolf sneered at Odin and the latter lifted his chin only slightly to look it in the eyes, malignant and full of disdain, I could just make out the syllables uttered from Odin, “Fenrir, you cursed half-breed mut.” He pointed his spear at him and charged. Against Thor was a great serpent, its scales shining green with the dark cast of light from the sword of Surt placed in the sky. “How long it has been Jormungand, this time I shall gut you like a fish!” “You are ‘rrong Thunderer,” Jormungand hissed with a rasping roll. Like a gong his words reverberated through the air, “fate is on my side today, anything may happen, but you will always die by my jaws.” My attention was turned to my assailants in front of me as Jormungand thrust his head forward, jaws extended. Thor blocked with his hammer and, holding fast with one hand, swung his iron gloved fist into the side of the serpent's foul jaws. Venom splashed and sailed all around, hissing like acid on the grass. A fire demon just beside them was scorched and fell to the ground and a silver warrior quickly sliced off its head. I fought another ice giant, who had a blue scar cut deep in his chest. A quick slice to the stomach with my blade and the giant fell to the ground, bleeding out a deep, cold, blue-tinged blood. Skirnir advanced ahead on its own, and I ducked a close shot from a bowman just ahead of me. The confusion built as the two sides’ warriors bled into one another. Already there were bodies I could see in every direction. I gripped my own sword tight in my right hand, realizing I didn’t have to seek out an opponent in this battle. They all came to me.

Overhead, Surt was advancing into the Asgardian line, raking away Valhallan warriors and his own at the same time. Suddenly a clash rang out. Freyr had struck the fire demon's horned knee with his club and sent him spiraling towards the ground. Simultaneously, Freyr whirled about, red hair in a tizzy, scraping up a spare sword from the ground to impale the demon in the back. Already I could feel the heat from the fire demons and I backed off towards the back of the line. I had seen an Asgardian grapple with one after another of the creatures and guessed I shouldn't try, lest I be taken away from the battle by my bad judgement. I knew my limits, and I would stick to them and be as much help in the place I was for as long as I could. Skirnir had returned to my side, and I could now see a wider expanse of the battlefield. To my right, Loki had been found by Heimdall, all clad in his extravagant armor. Heimdall carried the sword he used to open the Bifrost, but now the usually glittering blade was smeared with a deep crimson blood. His eyes seemed to lash out and strike Loki. They clashed, blade to blade, and struck one another, back and forth. They still fought as I was distracted by a short fire demon that had snuck his way through. Skirnir sliced its ankles and I stabbed it in the chest. Catching my eye to the left was Thor, who held the top part of Jormungand’s neck, his iron gloves melting slowly from the venom seeping down the serpent’s neck. Thor stood, the serpent rising on its belly, and they faced one another. Everyone in the near vicinity avoided the two as if they were a grenade with the pin pulled, so a natural space formed around them in the midst of battle. Thor retrieved his hammer from the ground, stalking around his opponent with his head high and eyes like lightning. Jormungand opened and closed his jaws, giving a hissing laugh. “Bite your tongue, snake.” Thor spat on the ground in front of him.

Jormungand lunged in nine chaotic strikes all around Thor and he lost his balance avoiding, then the serpent swung its mighty tail into the chest of the thunder god. If I had been closer, even though he was a god, I knew I would’ve heard at least one of his ribs snap. Advancing to one knee, he swept up his hammer and threw it high into the sky, using the momentum of his stance. The motion diverted the serpent's attention as Thor countered, smashing off a part of the serpent's scaly tail with his iron-plated fist. A rhythm like a deep rolling thunder boomed in the sky, cutting short as if it had been sucked away. Then, in one sudden moment, the hammer came down and struck the neck of the coily beast, slugging its head clean off. Thor caught his hammer just as the screeching and ripping of flesh meshed together. He backed away as the head bounced forward, but just as it hit the ground, the beast's eyes flashed and a spurt of venom released from its jaws, and pierced—crystalized—into the thunderer's breastplate, spiking out his back. Thor stumbled back. Three steps of silence. Three steps of Thor’s grim realization, and three of Odin’s glance and terrible, shaking bellow. My heart dropped. Not far from where Thor fell, Odin’s roar came, and I saw him turn back to the wolf Fenrir with added vengeance and strike and slice like a madman. Fenrir retaliated with a vicious head-butt, knocking Odin’s helmet off, but he remained bare head to forehead with the wolf, fending the beast's paws off with his unbreakable spear, Gungnir. Everything paused, but no one stopped. Suddenly I felt a burning pain on my forehead, but soon it vanished. Skirnir stabbed a dwarf with a long, jagged sword who was advancing towards me. There was no time

81 for me to think, so I fought on. My muscles knew what to do, and I was surprised how little I thought as Skirnir and my own sword snuffed the life from the beings in front of me. One of the ice giants Skirnir had slain fell on top of an Asgardian who was impaled straight through the gut. I rolled the giant off of him and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t be afraid,” I said, “your brothers are all around you” Skirnir kept the dwarves around us at bay. The soldier grabbed my arm, straining to speak, “Valhalla will be destroyed, you must run. When you die, there will be nowhere to go, there will be nothing left” I looked back at him, confused, then noticed the fear in his eyes, and I understood. “No matter if Valhalla is destroyed,” I said, “We don’t live or die for reward, we live and die for each other. Be still, and I’ll see to it you come to no more harm” I turned from the wounded man and continued to fight, jabbing, cutting, slicing, blocking and straining against the strong arms of many giants and demons, until I felt a burning gash in my side. I didn’t see myself get hit, I had many bruises and cuts, but the wound I looked at now, I had never seen before. At the same moment a deep-throated bark came from a little ways off. Odin had been bitten in the side by Fenrir’s great jaws. I looked at my own side, it was the same wound. The next moment, a dwarf lunged at me and I was pinned down. Skirnir stabbed the dwarf in the back, barely missing my own torso. I struggled to push the corpse off. Across the way a wolf dropped to the ground, its head cut off. I thought it had been Fenrir, but then I noticed the ears. It was Garm. Beside him lay Tyr, a part of the Aesir assembly I had seen in Asgard with Ágyl. I gasped, the very day before the same

82 hound had carried Ágyl and I across Helheim, now he lay before me dead, right next to a god. Red light flashed across the battlefield, and I strained my eyes and saw Freyr in the distance, caught by the neck at the hand of Surt. Freyr’s red beard singed and the skin of his neck bubbled and burned. Surt lifted his blade. “No!” I screamed, but not even I could hear myself. Freyr spit at the monster and Surt plunged his fiery sword into Freyr’s chest. He dropped to the ground, burnt and bloody. I was taken aback by the horrific vision, but another fire demon was coming up on me, and I slashed against his axe. Skirnir felt my struggle and cut open its head. I turned away, to an ice giant behind me and cut its legs, making it stumble and fall on a fallen dwarf’s axeblade. When I next looked, Loki and Heimdall still grappled, when finally, out of breath, they paused and stalked around each other, looking straight into each other's eyes, like hounds on the prowl. I could see where Fenrir got it. When they clashed again, Loki pulled out a knife and Heimdall avoided a stab to the gut, but then, swinging around, Loki flickered and reappeared behind Heimdall. But before he could stab him, Heimdall spun around and extended his sword. Loki was caught in the chest, and Heimdall was impaled with Loki’s blade, the point jutting out of his back. Heimdall’s sword shone a rainbow light into Loki’s wound, then the light vanished. Loki laughed aloud, pulling Heimdall’s blade from his sternum. “Ha! You are at the tip of my blade, and now you are nothing. How does it feel, Heimdall? You’ll do just as I say for all of time, my victory is near!” Loki yelled.

Heimdall just looked at him, then with a step, he pushed himself further onto Loki’s sword, and his chest caught the venomous spikes at the end of the blade. The color drained from Loki’s face, “What are you doing?” “You may be the victor...but you will die too… Surt...will destroy...everything.” He said. And his body slumped against the blade and Loki dropped it from his hands, backing away And all at once, the wound in Loki’s chest glowed with colors like the Aurora Borealis, a stream of light flowing from the wound. It expanded as Loki looked down in shock. Screaming, he backed away as if trying to run from it, then it collapsed and Loki dissolved with it. A force rippled through the air, killing off several fire demons all around. The Aesir and their army remained unharmed.

The Vanir surrounded all of the Aesir’s soldiers, the only Aesir left were Vidar, who fought five giants at a time with his brother Vili, and Odin, who battled Fenrir. I fell to my knees, exhausted, and looked for any signs that we might be at all close to victory, or at least the end of the battle. Odin had struck Fenrir with his spear, but the wolf tore it away from his hand and it was lost in the battle. Fenrir pounced at Odin, who rolled his sleeves and grabbed the dog by the neck with both hands. Just in front of me, a moss-covered stone-giant raced towards me and I picked myself up from the ground, sword at the ready, and Skirnir just beside me. The giant held only a metal bow, and was using it as a sword. Out of the corner of my eye I heard Odin cry out, Fenrir had bitten him in the neck. The stone-giant came closer.

I dropped to the ground in pain, grabbing at my neck. I tried to look up, but when I did, half my vision was black and Fenrir’s jaws seemed to be right in front of me. The stone-giant plowed over me. Skirnir tried to block him, but his bow had already met my face, slicing up my cheek and into my eye. Skirnir stabbed and sliced precisely, trying to kill off the giant without injuring me, as he stood so near to where I lay. Finally, the giant keeled over, head rolling. I rolled on the ground, clutching the whole left side of my face with one hand and my neck in the other. I let go, trying to see past the pain, but the vision in my left eye was gone, and when I raised my hand, it was covered in blood. My neck barely bled at all, considering the pain I had felt just moments before, but I still couldn’t understand how I was injured. I seemed to be sustaining the same injuries as Odin did while he grappled with Fenrir. Another striking pain hit me in the arm, and a line of tooth marks appeared there. I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out, holding my arm this time. My vision blurred with the pain, and again I was in front of Fenrir’s jaws. This time the image stayed, and I hesitated, trying to hold off Fenrir with my arms, but my strength failed. The next second, I was back in my own body, and my head was positioned to look over at where Odin fought Fenrir. Odin’s arms slipped like mine had under Fenrir’s strength, and Fenrir’s jaws closed around Odin’s torso, tearing him in half. My eyes went wide and I trembled. The pain struck me in the gut, and next I saw, Fenrir was swallowing Odin’s other half. I heard Vidar bellow and look in his father’s direction. His brawny build made it hard for him to run very fast, but he ran nonetheless. Grabbing hold of Fenrir, he took him by the bottom jaw. Fenrir went to chop down on Vidar’s hand, but he caught him. Now, with both jaws

85 caught in each hand, Vidar lifted himself into the wolf’s mouth, placing his foot on Fenrir’s lower jaw. He expanded his whole width in his jaws and Fenrir’s head split open. The last thing I saw was Vidar stepping off the dead wolf, letting Fenrir’s head fall to the ground, eyes gouged out.

I awoke with a jolt. I was standing at the bridge into my old town. I looked down at my hands, they were clean, no cuts or scars. I ran to the river below and looked at my reflection. In the spot where my left eye was supposed to be, an empty void was left, but it was fully healed, smooth skin covered it. I heard voices, and above, on top of the bridge, two men walked by. I ran up to meet them, but they didn’t seem to see me. “Hello!” I called, waving my hands. But they made no sign of recognizing I was in front of them. “...he left. One day he just vanished,” one of the men was saying. “So?” the other one said. “Well, apart from McGowan, Mr. Grey was like a father to me… when he left, I thought he had been killed, but they never found him” “Levi?” I said, a grim realization washing over me. “Is that why you take care of that old fishing boat every day?” the other asked They both walked past me, and I tried to follow them, but I couldn’t. Something was pulling me back.

I strained to hear Levi’s answer, “He might not ever come back, but if he does, maybe it’ll show him he was important to somebody, if I’m not here to tell him myself” The scene vanished and I stood on the field of Vigrid, but in the midst of ash and dust, a fiery plain and sky all around. I dropped to my knees and sobbed. All I had done, all my fighting, and the world was nothing but fire and ash. I had saved no one. I didn’t even know how I was alive, but it didn’t matter. All the realms would be destroyed, and I had saved no one. ‘Even Levi must be dead by now’ I thought. Suddenly, a voice spoke behind me. “Hugrekki” it said. I turned. Mimir stood, now fully formed, her head attached to her neck. It was a strange sight. Beside her was Odin. He stood unharmed, and even his eyepatch was gone, his one gray eye was perfectly level with my own. And just like my own, Odin’s right eye was only a socket with smooth skin over the depression. Upon seeing the two of them, I felt so overwhelmed that I began to cry. “I’m sorry,” I choked, “I couldn’t save them. I failed. There is nothing left, they’re all gone” Mimir put her hand on my shoulder and turned my back, gesturing above the crumpled gates of Asgard. There, Yggdrasil’s grand figure stood brighter than I had even seen it. The leaves bloomed a lavish green. From the distance, I could just make out four figures climbing down the trunk. I looked back at Mimir. “Lif, Lifthrasir, Vidar, and Vili they will restore the world, you succeeded, Hugrekki” she explained Odin walked up beside her and looked at me strangely.

“Mimir is wise, but I never thought she would be able to hide this from me,” he said. I looked at Mimir, “What?” She looked disappointed, “I thought you would have figured it out by now. I hadn’t expected you to be so close when I met with Odin before the battle. “But, Hugrekki, I have actually known you all your life. You are an anomaly from Yggdrasil. Somehow, in the instances of time, you were born, a reflection of Odin himself, into Midgard. “When I felt this presence, I watched you. I had thought for a long time about the outcome of Ragnarök, and was concerned by my visions. But when I felt you come into the world, I sought you out. I followed you everywhere you went, making sure you were hidden from everyone’s eyes, even Odin’s. You were too important, and Yggdrasil gave me these exact instructions.” I turned from Mimir to Odin, inspecting him. “The stone,” I finally said, “The stone outside my house, that’s a magical object, isn’t it? The old rune marks, that was you?” She nodded. I turned back to Odin, thinking about what I would ask myself if he were standing right in front of me, as a separate being, which he was. “Why?” I began, “Why did you do all of this? Why not hide yourself in the tree, or try and stop Ragnarök from happening at all?” He smiled, he was not so menacing as I had seen him before. I wondered why. Did he not have his powers in this form? With all the power he had in Asgard, how did he get to be on the battlefield of Vigrid? “I’ve always known that the persistence of fate is unavoidable, especially in the most important cases such as Ragnarök,” He began, “I knew that I would fight here, and that I would die inside the belly of my formidable opponent, even that Thor would not outlast me in battle, and

88 would eventually be destroyed there. And I knew that Heimdall and Loki would kill each other. Still to this day I wonder about the small things, if they would have been different, how things would have ended up? But then I think of all the sons and daughters that were to come after the Aesir, after myself, because no matter how strong I was, I would eventually die, the ones that would live on because we fought and died here today. As I like to say, only a coward thinks only of himself, it is the courageous who wield their swords to certain death if it means the preservation of hope and courage in others. ‘A coward thinks he can live forever, if only he can shun warfare’” I was taken aback by his response, he had spoken my deepest thoughts, and with so much grace that I didn’t know how to respond. “What happens now?” was all I could manage. Mimir held out her hands to us. I took one and Odin the other. “Now you unite, as one soul,” she said. Suddenly I was afraid, but something inside me steadied my mind. I could almost hear Ágyl’s voice in my ears, telling me about the Bridge of Ascension in Alfheim, about the waves and purpose, and I was calm. Mimir began to chant in Icelandic, and another moment and she released us. “Now you must walk into one another,” she said. Odin and I looked at each other, then, at the same time, we took a step.

When next I opened my eyes, a woman clad in illustrious silver armor stood before me, mounted on a dark horse with eight legs. I could see her from both eyes now. She was a Valkyrie. I was going home.