Giants of the Frost

by Kim Wilkins

  He dropped his head, felt the weary yearning weigh him down. A salty breeze licked over him and he shivered. “I’ve already told more than I intended to tell.”

  “You love her so much,” she said sadly. “As the sun loves the moon. That’s what you said when you first came back.”

  Vidar stood and stretched his arms over his head, feeling the subtle release along the length of his spine. “Shall we go up to the house and eat, Aud? Can I cook for you, in recompense?”

  Aud didn’t respond. She was staring at the deepening sky, a troubled expression on her forehead.

  “Aud?”

  She turned to him, and said quickly, “If Odin found out, Victoria would be in danger?”

  “Yes,” Vidar said, his heart picking up. She sounded so serious.

  “Does she know this?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then, Vidar, how is she to protect herself?”

  Vidar paused, his mind blank. Aud was right. It would be too late for Victoria if Odin found out—even if Vidar never saw her again, it would be too late. If Odin knew she had returned, he would want her dead. So should he go back and warn her, help her protect herself? Or should he stay away and deflect any further suspicion?

  “Vidar?”

  “She can’t,” he said, his stomach hollowing out with fear. “She can’t protect herself.”

  The sky was still inky when Aud crept to the door to leave for Loki’s. Vidar woke, said foggily, “Take Arvak,” and went back to sleep.

  Arvak greeted her in the stable; the warm straw smell contrasted with the salty, rime-frosted air outside. She saddled him up and made her way to Loki’s. She wondered what task he had dreamed up to punish her for rejecting him. At Valaskjálf, Thor had once made her clean out the dog kennels with her bare hands, transporting all the flyblown dung to a heap by the door. Later, when he had come to inspect her work, he had pushed her in the heap and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. She doubted Loki would be able to better that.

  As he had demanded, she arrived at Loki’s before dawn. Aud was puzzled to see him waiting in front of his house, fully dressed, on Heror’s back.

  “About time, Aud.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

  “We’re going on an expedition. We need to get away early. I’m glad you brought your own horse.” He guided Heror’s nose toward the east. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, following him, bewildered.

  “That depends on how soon we get there. Do you want to go to Valaskjálf?”

  Valaskjálf? Was he going to put her in service with her old masters for the day? “No, no I don’t.”

  “Then we’ll have to be quick. We’ll have to catch Heimdall before he leaves Bifrost.”

  “We’re going to see Heimdall?”

  “To take him these things I borrowed.” He patted a satchel over his shoulder. “I thought you’d enjoy the journey. Now come on.” He kicked Heror and the horse leaped forward and galloped into the forest.

  Aud took a deep breath, urged Arvak on and held tight.

  Loki didn’t match the mad pace he had set the last time, and for that she was thankful. Arvak, too, was more surefooted than Heror. They rode on through the forest, out past volcanic cliffs where water gushed into darkly glittering fjords, through a misty valley, then back into trees. The first glow of dawn had begun to bleed into the clouds when they approached a fork in the road. Loki pulled Heror up sharply and waited for Aud to catch up.

  “Heimdall should still be down at Bifrost,” he said. “We’ll head to the south.”

  “I’ll follow you. I don’t know the way.”

  He set a relaxed canter. Aud caught up and rode next to him. “We don’t have to go to Valaskjálf?”

  “No.”

  She looked to the north and could just make out the black curve of the hall, a hunched and sleeping dragon in the half-light. “Good.” Straggling yellow grass lined the cliff in front of them and sea-blasted trees marked the edge of the track. “I thought you said you would prepare a demeaning task for me,” she ventured. “Is that still to be on our return?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “No. I couldn’t stay angry with you, Aud.” He rolled his pale eyes. “You know I don’t have a cruel bone in my body.”

  They advanced over a rise and the road sloped away sharply. In the distance, pale dawnlight awash around them, were two giant, gleaming stones.

  “Is that—?”

  “Bifrost. Impressive, isn’t it? And see that dark figure standing at the north pillar? That’s Heimdall, he knows we’re coming. By now, I presume, he’s focused in on our conversation.” He smiled, then without raising his voice, said, “Am I right, old man? If I am, lift your hand and wave to us.”

  The dark figure ahead lifted his hand and Loki laughed. “Have you met Heimdall?” he asked Aud.

  “Yes,” she said, wary of saying anything else. She had once caught Heimdall spying on her from behind a post while she bathed, his hand firmly jammed down the front of his breeches.

  “I’ll be quick,” Loki said. “Then we can take our time heading back. Perhaps see some more of the coast?”

  “I’m at your command,” she said, wondering why she felt a happy thrill at the idea of being out all day and not cooped up doing chores and telling stories by Loki’s fire.

  “Where are my things?” Heimdall called as they drew closer.

  “I have them here,” Loki said. “I only ever borrowed them. I always intended to return them.”

  They slid to a halt beside the north pillar. It towered over them. The patterns carved and painted on it had an odd crudeness, with uneven lines, unsophisticated angles. It put Aud in mind of a time before this world, of relics from an ancient past. She knew that the Aesir had once lived like gods; mighty primal beings that evolved in the void of being, terrifying to behold. Time reeled backward from her and the weight of her thousand years of service pressed on her lungs.

  “Borrowed?” Heimdall spluttered. He wore a thick, grizzled beard that made him seem old. “Then why slip into my room while I was sleeping?”

  “In case you refused me,” Loki said, as though it were perfectly obvious.

  Heimdall looked at Aud. “What are you doing with him?” he asked. “Are you his whore or his servant?”

  “Servant,” she said, a little too proudly.

  “Then Vidar is all alone?” Heimdall asked. “For I see you have his horse as well?”

  “Vidar is—”

  Loki cut in. “Aud lives with me now, as does Arvak.”

  “Odin will want news of Vidar,” Heimdall said.

  “I know none,” Loki said. “I don’t see him as he never leaves Gammaldal.”

  Heimdall lowered his bushy eyebrows. “My possessions, Loki.”

  Loki handed him the satchel. Heimdall squinted inside and hitched it over his shoulder.

  “Next time,” Heimdall said, “come announced.”

  “I might not come again,” Loki said dismissively.

  “Even better.”

  They watched him trudge away toward Valaskjálf, then Loki turned his horse south. “An adventure, Aud?”

  “Not too fast,” she said.

  “I’m in a good mood today,” he replied, “so, yes. This way.”

  He led them past Bifrost’s south pillar and along the cliff’s edge for a few miles. Aud couldn’t take her eyes off the dark ocean, no islands to check its savage currents. So wide and open, the very edge of the universe and beyond it nothing. The air was icy and Loki found a rocky path that wound down from the cliff top to the broad pale beach. Nothing like the narrow strip of coarse grey sand and the wide mudflats near Gammaldal.

  “Down here,” he said, then spurred Heror and galloped away.

  Aud took the path more cautiously, but as soon as Arvak’s hooves hit the sand, he pulled at the reins and she had no choice but to let the horse set the pace. His hooves sank into the sand and she c
ould feel the strong muscles in his legs working. She clung to him as they flew along the beach, her hair streamed behind her, cold air bit her nose and lips. She felt exhilarated, cleansed. Her heart pumped and she managed to forget, at least for a little while, all about Vidar.

  Loki had slowed ahead of her. He was dismounting when she caught up.

  “Here’s a sheltered place we can sit a while,” he said. “Let Arvak run off with Heror. They’ll return soon enough.”

  Aud followed his lead, letting Arvak free to roam. Loki had found a shallow cave, protected from the cold wind. She picked her way over salty rock pools and settled near him, gazing out at the sea. The sun had burst through the clouds on the horizon and sent glittering streaks across the water.

  “Did you note how I protected Vidar from Heimdall’s questions?” Loki said, his pale eyes fixed on her.

  “I did. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

  “You see? I can be as loyal and thoughtful and caring as your Vidar.”

  “He’s not my Vidar,” she muttered.

  “Poor, sad Aud,” Loki said, an edge of cruelty touching his voice. “Unlucky in love.”

  She didn’t answer. How had she managed to find herself, once again, out alone with Loki, enjoying herself one moment, recoiling from him the next?

  “Tell Vidar to come and see me,” Loki said, leaning back against the rock wall, his hands folded behind his head. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

  “He’s going away tomorrow.”

  “Back to Midgard?”

  “To see his mother.”

  Loki sat forward eagerly and Aud was afraid she had revealed too much.

  “His mother?” Loki asked.

  “Maybe he didn’t say that.”

  “Oh, Aud, don’t worry. You haven’t given away a secret. I’m just surprised. You know who his mother is, don’t you?”

  Aud shook her head sadly. “I know so little about him. As you’ve pointed out.”

  “Let me tell you then, girl. His mother’s name is Gríd. She’s a giant.”

  Aud was speechless a few moments. Then she said, “Vidar’s mother is a giant?”

  “Yes, that’s why he’s so strong. Don’t you know, Odin has a taste for the big girls. He’s taken at least a dozen as lovers.”

  “Then Vidar has to go across to Jotunheim?” Aud felt a twinge of fear. The way was marked by treacherous currents, wolf-infested marshes and evil magic in the woods.

  “I expect so. But don’t worry, Aud, he’s more than just a mild-tempered woodworker. He’s very strong, and wily, and few could stand against him in battle.”

  “I know that. Or at least, I always suspected it.” She hesitated, thinking of the stories of the Aesir from before her time, and the ruined drunkards they appeared to be now. “How long has Vidar lived?”

  “More than a thousand years,” Loki said. “I can’t remember his birth. He’s much younger than I, though I think I’ve aged better. He was born during the Aesir’s days of glory when men in Midgard worshipped us as gods. Vidar grew into the fiercest of warriors. He had a sword, Hjarta-bítr, which was the most feared blade in Vanaheim. A cup of his own Aesir blood had been forged into the iron, so it would never rust, nor split, nor grow dull. It glowed a faint red even in the dark. I saw Vidar so often covered in gore and battle dust that I barely recognized him clean.”

  Aud drew down her eyebrows. “Do you tell me this to frighten me?”

  “I tell you this because it’s true.” Loki smiled, spiteful humor lighting his eyes. “You can’t stand to know of his brutal blood, can you? You must believe him all womanish and compassionate. Aud, you weren’t even born in our days of glory. How could you know him better than I do?”

  “How can it be true? How could he be brutal and yet so tender now? Has his blood changed? That’s not possible.”

  “A man can try to change. He can remove himself from temptations and influences, lock himself up in a house with only an exiled Vanir princess for company and divert his energy into his farm and his building projects. But he’ll always be terrified that his blood will one day betray him.”

  Aud shook her head. “I still don’t believe you. I’ve met the Aesir and they are nothing like him. I can’t imagine anything that would change them so radically as you say Vidar has been changed.”

  “Can’t you? Can’t you really?”

  Aud frowned in puzzlement. “No.”

  Loki’s voice dropped almost to a whisper. He leaned close. “How about love?”

  “If he loved somebody enough to leave his family, then where is that somebody now?” she asked. “Why doesn’t she share his home?”

  “Odin murdered her.”

  Thoughts and feelings traversed her. She must not let Loki read any of them. “Tell me, then,” she said. “I’ll admit I don’t know him, hardly at all. You must tell me.”

  Loki tilted his head to the side, his gaze drawing far out to sea. “Oh, I don’t know if I will. It all happened so long ago.”

  “Please tell me. He loved someone? Who was she?”

  “No, no. I won’t burden you with those old stories.”

  Aud huffed in exasperation. “Loki, I’ll go mad if you don’t tell me.”

  “I’ll tell you, if you let me kiss you afterward.”

  She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so desperate to hear about Vidar’s love. “I suppose so. I’ve let you kiss me once already.”

  Loki smiled slowly. “Do you believe in Ragnarok, Aud? Do you believe in the end of our world?”

  She shrugged. “We have all been waiting for thousands and thousands of years for it to happen. Sometimes I wonder if it’s just a tale told to frighten children.”

  “Odin believes in Ragnarok. All those at Valaskjálf believe it will come.”

  “Of course, because they still believe the stories told about them in Midgard. They still believe they are gods.”

  “Vidar has a part to play at Ragnarok, according to the stories. Odin will be swallowed whole by the giant wolf, Fenrir. Vidar will save him so that he may rule over the new world.” Loki held up a long index finger. “Vidar is indispensable to his father, so Odin kept him close at hand. Then Vidar met a girl. A Midgard woman.”

  A tingle of surprise. So Vidar had loved a Midgard woman before?

  “As for what he saw in this woman, you’d have to ask him yourself. Vidar bragged to everyone at Valaskjálf, ‘She is irreplaceable, she is always and forever all I will ever love.’ He said he’d leave Asgard and be with her. So Odin took his dogs to Midgard and hunted her like a deer.”

  Aud shook her head. “But that’s awful.”

  “There’s more. The best part. Vidar was enraged when he found out. He went directly to his father’s chamber, Hjarta-bítr drawn. The sky grew black and the beams of Valaskjálf quaked. Would he murder his own father?” Loki shook his head and adopted a feminine voice, “Oh no. He was too frightened.”

  “Odin is a fearsome man,” said Aud.

  “Instead,” Loki continued, “he killed all Odin’s servants.”

  “What?”

  “Petty, isn’t it? Too afraid to break down the door to his father’s chamber, he went on a murderous rampage and slaughtered every servant—woman and man—who waited on Odin. Had you been in Odin’s service at the time, Aud, he would have killed you.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “He left their butchered bodies lying about outside Odin’s door and disappeared. It is said that Odin stepped out of his chamber and laughed at the scene before him.”

  Aud shook her head, completely disbelieving. “Come now, that isn’t true. Vidar wouldn’t hurt innocent folk.”

  “I’m telling you, Aud, he would and he did. He is not as he appears.” Loki shrugged. “Anyway, Vidar disappeared for a long time. Odin grew frantic, but Vidar eventually resurfaced at Gammaldal. He never returned to live at Valaskjálf, too ashamed, or too afraid . . . Who knows?”

  Aud struggled to process everything
that he had told her. She couldn’t believe that Vidar was capable of such brutality and cowardice and was certain that Loki was bending the truth. But what about this mortal woman? She is irreplaceable, she is always and forever all I will ever love. Then how could he have already fallen for another?

  Unless she wasn’t another. Vidar’s words returned to her: he had known Victoria since long before he knew Aud.

  “I see I’ve given you something to think about, Aud,” Loki said, pulling himself to his feet. “Ask him yourself about why he left Valaskjálf. Though I suppose he may lie.”

  “He lives apart from his family for the same reasons you do,” Aud asserted. “Because they are heartless, petty, selfish and proud, and he despises their company.”

  Loki helped her to her feet. “That’s only half of the truth. It’s because they are heartless, petty, selfish and proud,” he said, “and Vidar knows he’s one of them.”

  Aud shook sand from her skirt. “I suppose I must let you kiss me now. As payment.”

  Loki’s eyes went out to sea, squinting against the bright sun. “No. I’m not particularly interested in kisses just now. Let’s head back.” He strode down to the sand to whistle for Heror, leaving Aud in the shadow of the cave.

  Sixteen

  Vidar arrived at the World Tree in the middle of the morning, when the sun was warmest and brightest. He had set his hopes on a fine day for his journey and had not been disappointed. At the top of the ridge, he set Arvak to wander and stood for a few moments, surveying the scene spread before him: the mountains of Alfheim, the wide, grass plains of Vanaheim. The outlands of Jotunheim waited across Utgard Bay, grey clouds lowering over their volcanic peaks and plains. His mother, Gríd, lived on the southern tip of Jotunheim—over the water, through the woods, in a wild green valley. A full day’s journey from his own home at Gammaldal. Beyond Jotunheim, north and farther north, were the misty lands of the dead. Few went there and returned. He had. Centuries ago . . . A frost slithered over his skin. He shrugged it off.

  “Arvak, I’ll return tomorrow, around the same time,” he called. Arvak was already heading toward a field of long, waving grass. Vidar took his breath between his teeth and headed down the steep rock steps. A high breeze found the branches of the World Tree and transformed into a low moan. He walked briskly across the valley and around the tree’s massive girth in half an hour, then down farther and farther, and out toward the honeycombed cliff faces that watched Jotunheim across the water.