Loki
Page 32
“So you remind me each day,” she said, not unkindly. “But such habits do not die easily, and I find a . . . comfort in their use, a link to what was lost. I do not want to ever forget what was lost, even if what we have gained is so much greater.”
He nodded. “Magni has found something that will never let us forget what we have lost.”
She turned to him. “What is it?”
“You must come see it for yourself.”
Magni Thorson stood with his back to Freyja in an open glade of burgeoning saplings, his frame partially blocking her view of a large rock he stared at intently. She and Balder—a smile spreading across his face—approached, and she touched Magni lightly on the arm. He did not turn, but grunted a greeting at her. She was reminded of his father in both size and manner, but he lacked the wildness that permeated Thor’s being. Or at least it had disappeared after his release from the tree.
Her eyes went wide with surprise when she saw the object on the rock. “Where did this come from?” she asked.
“Good question,” Magni replied gruffly.
Balder added, “The rock was here from before, but there was nothing on it till this morning. Magni found it and sent for me, perhaps thinking I knew something of it.” Magni gave a look that affirmed what Balder said. “But it is a mystery to me.”
Freyja was confused, but not unpleasantly. Indeed, it seemed an omen, a sign that the past was not forgotten, would never be forgotten.
“Does this mean that Thor may have survived?” she asked.
Magni’s response was quick and to the point. “No, my father is dead.”
“Then what . . .?”
Balder spoke. “Despite all his ferocity, Thor was a god of rebirth, as well. No matter how violent the storm, it always brought life-giving rains to the earth. After destruction, life always returns somehow. Perhaps that is the meaning of this.” He looked up at Magni. “Have you tried to lift it?”
“No.”
“Will you try?”
Magni tore his gaze from where Mjolnir lay on the large rock. “It is not here for that. It is not here to be wielded as a weapon.” He looked back down at his father’s legendary hammer, looking still as if it were newly crafted by the dwarfs. “Only my father could lift Mjolnir. I will not try.”
Balder nodded. “It will be our symbol then, and the center of a new village, which will one day grow into a great city. Tales will be told around this rock of the bravery and might of the Thunderer, of the sacrifice of the Allfather, of the mischief of the Trickster.” And even while he said it, he realized that his enmity against Loki was gone, that he would tell the tales of his mischief, but without venom.
He no longer burned with anger and hatred at Loki’s misdeeds. He felt some measure of sorrow for the banished god, and even some sympathy. This new world somehow allowed him to view the past more clearly, to see it without the stain of emotion and fury. He now saw Loki as a necessary part of the cycle of the universe.
His father, he now knew, had seen this clearly from the beginning, had orchestrated the events so that Ragnarok would not be avoided, if indeed it could have been avoided at all. Both Odin and Loki had played their parts, and Balder would not sully this new world with bitter thoughts of the past, would not bring back up what was meant to lie fallow.
He put a hand on Magni’s broad shoulder and his other on Freyja’s soft cheek. They were gods no longer, but this new world did not have need of gods.
This was now the time of men.
About the Author
Mike Vasich teaches English to gifted and talented students in suburban Michigan. This book was inspired by the teaching of Norse mythology in his class, and is dedicated to all the students who have ever said, “Mr. V, you should write a book!” He lives with his wife and two sons, who were almost named Loki and Thor, and who cause more destruction than any Norse god could ever hope to equal.