by Rick Riordan
Would it have been easier just to push the button myself? Of course. Would pushing the button have been as satisfying? No way. You might think I’m crazy for spending so much time and effort on such creations. But to me, metal that moves, moves me.
HOME WORLDS: Midgard and Asgard
APPEARANCE: Fierce, strong human females, often on horses. Capable of flight. Armed with shields and swords or axes.
BEST KNOWN FOR: Identifying individuals who have died in the act of saving others and conveying these heroes to Valhalla
Diary Entries [Name withheld to protect author’s privacy]
Day One:
I’m a Valkyrie. Man, even after writing it down, it doesn’t seem possible! But it’s true. I’m an honest-to-goodness Chooser of the Slain, a handmaiden of Odin! One minute, I’m walking down the street. The next, this fierce-looking, helmet-wearing, spear-carrying woman on a flying horse appears in the sky above me. She swoops down and holds out her hand. “I am Gunilla, captain of the Valkyries,” she says, all serious and imposing. “You have been chosen by Odin to select and care for fallen heroes in the afterlife, where they will ceaselessly train for Ragnarok, the doomsday battle of the gods against the giants. Do you accept?”
I’d never even heard of Odin or any of those other things, but refusing didn’t seem like an option. So here I am in the lobby of Hotel Valhalla with other new recruits, waiting to find out what happens next.
Day Two:
Exhausted. More tomorrow.
Day Five:
Sorry not to have written for a few days. Here’s a quick recap of what I’ve been doing:
•Toured all 540 floors of Hotel Valhalla. Flirted with some good-looking guys on the lower levels.
•Endured a lecture on the Nine Worlds given by some fossilized thane named Snorti. (Might be Snorri? So boring, I almost started snorri-ing….)
•Had it drilled into my head that we bring back only the immortal essence (i.e., the souls) and leave the bodies of the fallen behind.
•Got fitted for my Valkyrie uniform: helmet, chain-mail tunic, leggings, boots, sword. (Not to brag, but I look smokin’ hot as a Viking warrior.)
•Waited on tables in the Feast Hall of the Slain. Einherjar—the proper name of the dead heroes who live (live?) in Valhalla—eat and drink a lot.
•Magically returned to Midgard (the human realm, according to Snorti) every dawn to live the days as a normal teenager.
I’m due back in Midgard in a few hours. Gotta grab some sleep before then, so good night.
PS: Just remembered all the good-looking guys here are dead. Bummer.
Day Nine:
Best. Day. Ever!
It started with Gunilla summoning us newbies from Midgard. I was at school, heading to math class, so I veered into the restroom and climbed out the window. There was a whoosh, and suddenly I was back at the hotel. Don’t ask me how. I have no clue.
We gathered in the Feast Hall. It was hours before dinner, so the place was deserted. Gunilla started talking.
“Take a look at the trainees next to you. And know this: One will perish in the line of duty. Just because you can travel to and from this afterlife doesn’t mean you’re invincible. You can be killed. Die honorably, and your memory will live on forever. Die dishonorably, and you will be forgotten.”
I was thinking, Okay, might have been nice to know this before I signed up, when a bunch of veteran Valkyries came in. One approached me, introduced herself as Margaret, and said, “You’re going to love what comes next.”
Before I could ask what she meant, Gunilla called out, “Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff.”
Margaret grabbed my arm and said, “Don’t look down.” Then she shot straight up into the air! Here’s the good part: I went with her! I. Was. Flying!
Okay, sure, technically, I didn’t fly. Margaret did, with me Velcroed to her for dear life. But oh my Odin, it was still amazing. Tomorrow, I get to try it myself. It’s going to be awesome!
Day Ten:
Hour one: Took off. Crashed into Laeradr (stupid tree). Took off. Fell onto the thanes’ table. Took off. Crashed into Laeradr and then fell onto the thanes’ table. An unbelievably fat tree-dwelling goat landed on top of me.
Hour three: Reenacted the Wright Brothers’ first flight at Kitty Hawk. That is, got airborne for less than a minute before inevitably crashing (into Laeradr yet again).
Hour six: Longer flight. Landed on my feet! (I immediately fell on my face, but still…result!)
Hour nine: Actual swooping and soaring occurred! Sound the horn of triumph, people! I am a Valkyrie!
Day Eleven:
Turns out I have to learn how to fly on a horse made of mist, too. Flying solo with fallen heroes doesn’t work so well; apparently they tend to squirm, which causes turbulence. Lessons start tomorrow.
Square one, here I come.
HOME WORLD: Asgard; specifically, the lake at the roots of the Tree of Laeradr in the Feast Hall of the Slain
APPEARANCE: A trio of nine-foot-tall, snow-white, fog-enshrouded, spooky-looking females in flowing white hooded dresses
BEST KNOWN FOR: Controlling the destinies of mortals and gods. Also making enigmatic proclamations about those destinies.
We at Hotel Valhalla understand that hearing a proclamation about your destiny can be overwhelming for a new einherji—especially if that proclamation is from the Norns. Why not take a break with Destiny Buzzword? It’s easy, fun, and sometimes even accurate. To come up with your three key destiny words, find the first letter of your first name, last letter of your last name, and the month you were born. For example, Snorri Sturluson was born in March, so his buzzwords are Intelligent, Clever, and Coward. Who knows? Maybe someday, your words will be revealed to have deep meaning!
DESTINY BUZZWORD
A: Terrible JAN: Magic
B: Hero FEB: Betrayal
C: Fight MAR: Coward
D: Everlasting APR: Daring
E: Wolf MAY: Honorable
F: Creative JUN: Victorious
G: Warrior JUL: Injury
H: Challenge AUG: Eviscerate
I: Deadly SEP: Darkness
J: Fearsome OCT: Unlimited
K: Knowledge NOV: Giant
L: Fall DEC: Love
M: Worthy
N: Clever
O: Sword
P: Fearless
Q: Doomed
R: Battle
S: Intelligent
T: Mistake
U: Quest
V: Ruin
W: Sacrifice
X: Search
Y: Healer
Z: Destroy
Now I’m supposed to profile the creatures that can’t speak for themselves, as well as those that can but say either incredibly annoying or unbelievably hurtful things. (There are a few hurtful things I’d like to say to Helgi about now….I’m leaving this in to see if he even reads my work.)
Our menagerie of beasts fall into three categories: notable, regrettable, and edible. Notable ones make worthwhile contributions to the worlds or are significant for other reasons. Those that are regrettable are alarming in every possible way—some more so than others. As for the edible creatures, well, I think that category is self-explanatory.
CATEGORY: Regrettable
HOME WORLD: Roots of Yggdrasil
APPEARANCE: Snaky, with sharp teeth and an irritated expression
BEST KNOWN FOR: Gnawing on Yggdrasil’s roots
This fearsome dragon has one purpose in life: to cause destruction by eating away at the base of our existence. It’s a mystery to me why we put up with this behavior. I mean, can’t someone slip him a chew toy? The only time Nidhogg isn’t snacking on the roots is when he’s coming up with new insults to be delivered to the unnamed resident at the top of the tree.
CATEGORY: Regrettable
HOME WORLD: Top of Yggdrasil
APPEARANCE: Fierce and feathery
BEST KNOWN FOR: Shaking the treetops to cause high wind
s, earthquakes, and storms
This is the aforementioned unnamed resident, i.e., the receiver of Nidhogg’s insults. Which brings up a second mystery: Why doesn’t this bird have a name? If it’s a question of selecting one, we could just hold a contest, pick a name out of a helmet, or throw a dart at choices tacked to a board. Seriously, what’s the big deal?
Incidentally, the eagle fires insults, along with nasty lies, rumors, and other hateful whisperings, right back at Nidhogg. How, you may wonder, are such messages exchanged when the eagle and dragon are at opposite ends of the World Tree? Read on.
CATEGORY: Very, very regrettable
HOME WORLD: Branches of Yggdrasil
APPEARANCE: An enormous, ferocious red-furred squirrel with yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth and claws
BEST KNOWN FOR: Carrying insults between the anonymous eagle and Nidhogg. Also, draining the will to live from those who hear its insult-filled YARK.
Come here (you’re slow). Don’t worry (anxiety is your middle name). I won’t bark at you. I want to tell you (your teammates blame you for that loss) a secret. I know why Nidhogg and the eagle (they’re laughing at you, not with you) began trading insults. I know (your best will never be good enough), because I’m the one who started the feud. I was bored (your stories make everyone yawn). To liven things up I sent a whispered taunt (you’ve never had an original idea) down Yggdrasil’s trunk to the dragon (only worms are lowlier than you) and another up to the eagle (you’ll never fly). Care to hear (you crack under pressure) what those insults were? Then come closer still (you’re afraid of everything and everyone) and let me whisper (you’re too trusting) in your ear (you have earwax).
YAAAARK!
CATEGORY: Edible (sort of)
HOME WORLD: Asgard; specifically, the branches of Laeradr in the Hotel Valhalla
APPEARANCE: Overweight, leaky goat
BEST KNOWN FOR: Providing milk that is brewed into mead
CATEGORY: Notable
HOME WORLD: Asgard, specifically the branches of Laeradr
APPEARANCE: Stag with water-gushing antlers
BEST KNOWN FOR: Spouting water for the rivers and streams of the world
CATEGORY: Edible
HOME WORLD: Asgard, specifically the Feast Hall of the Slain in the Hotel Valhalla
APPEARANCE: Enormous animal of indeterminate species
BEST KNOWN FOR: Being the main course at dinner every night for every resident
This story was told to me by one of the older einherjar, who heard it from someone else who used to catch Heidrun’s milk in the cauldron, who claims to have heard it from Heidrun herself. Whether it is true or not, I cannot say, but neither can I imagine a reason for the goat to make up such a tale. In the end, you must judge for yourself.
One night Ike and Heidrun were hanging out with Saehrimnir, keeping him company while he resurrected, as they often did, when the subject of Ragnarok came up.
“It occurs to me,” Heidrun said, shifting slightly so her milk wouldn’t keep dripping onto Saehrimnir’s flank, “that no one has ever mentioned what our fate is to be when the giants re-create the cosmos.”
“I imagine we’d be useful to the jotun,” Saehrimnir mused. “After all, they’ll need water and mead and food, won’t they?”
“I don’t know. Who can tell with giants?” Heidrun said. “What do you think, Ike?”
“We could always ask the Norns if our destinies are to die with the gods or live with the giants,” the stag replied. The threesome cast anxious looks at the lake below. “Or not,” Ike added.
“Maybe I can help.” Loki swung down from a branch above and landed beside Saehrimnir. In the days before he was tied to a boulder, he often hid in Laeradr, because it was a useful spot from which to spy on the other gods.
“You?” Heidrun gave a skeptical snort. “What could you do?”
“I could talk to the giants on your behalf, tell them what you have to offer. I’m heading to Jotunheim anyway. I owe Angrboda a visit. She’s the giantess mother of my kids Fenris, Jormungand, and Hel,” he supplied upon seeing their blank expressions.
The goat, the stag, and the enormous food supply exchanged glances. “Give us a minute,” Heidrun said.
“Take all the time you want. I’ll be over here.”
Whistling, Loki strolled across the room to the thanes’ table, looking for all the worlds as if he couldn’t care less what they decided. Secretly, however, he very much wanted them to agree, for he planned to use the animals’ inquiry as an opportunity to find out if the giants were willing to spare non-giants on the day of doom. Loki intended to be among those spared, no matter whose side he was fighting on come Ragnarok.
Meanwhile, the three creatures talked it over. None of them trusted Loki, but as they couldn’t leave Laeradr themselves, they decided they had no choice.
“We give you permission to tell the giants what we have to offer,” Ike said.
“Then I’ll be on my way.” Loki vanished.
No sooner had he left than Odin himself appeared. From his all-seeing throne, Hlidskjalf, he’d heard what had transpired, and he was troubled.
“Have you learned nothing after living eons among einherjar?” he demanded. “You would rather betray those who have given you a home than die a noble death defending that home?”
The beasts bowed their heads. Like a well-aimed arrow, Odin’s accusation had hit its mark. They vowed then and there to stand with the gods and think no more of the giants—and so they have done.
As for Loki, his destiny was determined long before his meeting the animals. Nothing he said or did would change what fate had in store.
CATEGORY: Notable
HOME WORLD: Asgard
APPEARANCE: Massive eight-legged horse with steel-gray hair, a white mane, and black eyes
BEST KNOWN FOR: Having eight legs, being able to fly despite being wingless, and belonging to Odin
Most of you think Loki is 100 percent bad and, like, always messing things up for the gods. That is so not true. One time, she helped Odin and the others out of a huge problem.
That’s right; I said she. Loki is my grandmother. I’ll give you a moment to process that before I go on.
Ready? Okay, here’s what happened:
Long ago, a builder came to Asgard. He offered to surround the world with a wall to protect the gods from attack. He said he could build the wall in three seasons, and he wanted Freya, the sun, and the moon in exchange. Freya said no way. The sun and the moon took her side. Loki, though, thought the wall was a great idea. He convinced the other deities to make a counteroffer. If the builder could finish the wall in one season, he could have what he asked for. The task was impossible, Loki pointed out, so Freya, the sun, and the moon would be safe. And so would the gods, because the Aesir would have at least part of a wall.
The gods proposed the plan to the builder. He agreed to the terms and went to work.
What the Aesir didn’t realize was that the builder—probably a giant in disguise—had the strongest, fastest, and hardest-working stallion in the worlds to help him. As the season wound down, the fortification neared completion. Freya was a wreck. The sun and the moon weren’t too happy, either. Everyone blamed Loki.
Loki owned up to his mistake and set about making things right. Since the stallion was the problem, he figured out a way to get rid of it. He shape-shifted into a gorgeous mare. One flirtatious flick of the mane and coy bat of the eye later, and that stallion was smitten. When Loki took off for the woods, the stallion gave chase—and that was that.
Without his helper, the builder couldn’t finish the wall by the deadline. Freya, the sun, and the moon stayed right where they were. And some time later, Loki the mare gave birth to my dad.
So you see? Loki’s not all bad.
CATEGORY: Notable
HOME WORLD: Seas of Jotunheim
APPEARANCE: A poison-shooting snake. Mottled skin of yellow, brown, and green. Enormous green eyes. Ridged forehead. Snub-nos
ed snout. Rows of sharp teeth. And a really, really long legless body.
BEST KNOWN FOR: Encircling Midgard and biting its own tail. Prophesied to consume Thor at Ragnarok.
If Jormungand ever fully awakens, he’ll thrash so violently that tsunamis will swamp the shorelines throughout Midgard. So whenever the World Serpent seems restless, a group of my einherjar descendants—the only ones who can safely traverse the seas at such a time—race out to the oceans, dive deep below the surface, and sing him these lullabies. My son, Frey, helped write them, so they are infused with the peace and warmth needed for a sound sleep.
As an interesting side note, humans overheard these songs at some point in history. They adapted the melodies but replaced the original lyrics with their own. Einherjar may recognize the Midgard versions.
FREY’S ORIGINALS
MIDGARD VERSIONS
Slumber, slumber, Jormungand,
(Twinkle, twinkle, little star)
On seaweed beds so far from land.
(How I wonder what you are.)
Sleep forever peacefully
(Up above the world so high)
Deep within the Midgard sea.
(Like a diamond in the sky.)
Slumber, slumber, Jormungand,
(Twinkle, twinkle, little star)
Nestled deep within the sand.
(How I wonder what you are.)
Bite your tail, Jorry,
(Rock-a-bye, baby,)
Under the waves.
(In the treetop.)
No need to surface.
(When the wind blows)