Giants of the Frost

by Kim Wilkins

  A young bondmaid approached him. All the servants at Valaskjálf were mortals who had longed for immortality, which Odin had granted to them in return for their service. Although, like his family, they aged slowly and had the potential to live forever, misery had driven a number of them to suicide. It wasn’t unusual to find a body hanging from Odin’s longship, or see a fish-nibbled corpse wash up on the beach below the cliffs. This woman’s face was pale and hollow, illustrating that eternal servitude was not better than death.

  “Vidar?” she said.

  “I’m here to see my father,” he replied.

  “Sit down by the fire. I’ll tell him you’re here.” She shuffled up the hall and through the doors. Vidar found a bench near the fire and leaned his shivering body as close to the flames as was safe. The maid returned.

  “He says he’ll see you soon,” she said. “I’ll get you a hot drink.”

  “Can you find me some dry clothes?” he asked.

  Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “Odin said I’m not to fetch you anything but a hot drink until he sees you.”

  Vidar sighed. “I see. Yes, I’ll have a cup of spiced wine.” This was typical of Odin, who liked to assert his power in small annoyances. Vidar pulled off his sopping shirt and hung it over a table, and slid onto the floor to be closer to the fire. His drink arrived, the deer roasted, servants came and went, his clothes began to dry.

  Still, Odin didn’t come.

  Finally, the heavy door creaked. Vidar looked up, told himself not to hold his breath. His pulse quickened.

  Not Odin. Vidar’s half brother, Vali, stepped out.

  “Vali? Where’s Odin?” he called, annoyed.

  Vali closed the door behind him and approached. “Why are you sitting here half-naked?”

  “My clothes are wet and skin dries faster.”

  Vali was very similar to Vidar in appearance because his mother was Gríd’s sister, but Vali’s hair and eyes were lighter, his beard fuller and wilder. They had once been very close, but the events with Halla had made them enemies. Now Vidar saw his brother as a strange ghost of himself, the person he might have been had he stayed here among his family.

  “Could I have a blanket?” Vidar asked.

  “Odin will be here soon,” Vali said. “You can wait and ask him.”

  “Vali, this is ridiculous. I’m cold.”

  “Endure it like a man, not a prissy virgin,” Vali said, sitting next to him.

  “Do you know why Odin wants to see me?” Vidar asked, hoping his voice gave away none of his fear for Victoria.

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “He hasn’t said anything to you?”

  Vali smiled, revealing a gap of three missing teeth. “Guilty conscience?”

  “No.”

  “Perhaps he just misses you, Vidar. You’re his favorite son.”

  “I’m certainly not,” Vidar answered gruffly.

  “You know you are, we all know you are. He would have eaten anybody else who behaved as you have, ingrate.”

  Vidar said nothing more. He felt his shirt. It was semidry so he slipped it back on.

  Vali rose and slapped Vidar’s shoulder playfully, maybe hatefully. “I’ll see if he’s ready for you yet.”

  Vidar watched him disappear behind the grim wooden door. The servants bustled about, doors opened and closed, footsteps shuffled here and there, Thor strode through the hall on his way out, sneering at Vidar and calling him a gelding as he passed. An hour passed, two. But Odin didn’t come.

  Vidar started to worry. What if Odin weren’t here? What if he was already on his way to Midgard? But no, he would have to wait for nightfall. Unless he’d left the night before?

  Vidar paced. The young bondmaid offered him a reassuring smile.

  “Is Odin really in there?” he asked her.

  Her puzzlement was evident. “Of course.”

  Vidar kept pacing. The last place in the world he wanted to be was there at Valaskjálf, cold and damp, waiting endlessly for his father to appear. He knew by then that this was a game, that the rain had been sent to soak him, that the long delay was calculated to unsettle him and remind him that, no matter how far from his family he lived, he could still be made subject to Odin’s power.

  A loud clunk echoed through the hall. Vidar spun round as the door opened, irritated with himself that his heart had picked up its rhythm once more.

  Vali stood there again.

  “Where is he?” Vidar demanded, striding toward him. “I’m cold and I’m hungry and I’m tired and . . .” He paused. He sounded petulant. Of course, Odin’s whole plan was to have him cold and hungry and tired.

  “I’m sorry, brother,” Vali said in a low voice, a cruel smile on his lips. “Our father is not feeling well. He has asked me to pass on a message to you and send you home.”

  “What message?”

  “Odin would prefer it if you didn’t visit your mother.”

  The relief was like warm honey in his blood. “This is about Gríd?” Thank all the stars and the moon it had nothing to do with Victoria.

  “Odin says that the giants have been exiled to Jotunheim for wise reasons, and your crossing the bay to see her makes Odin look less wise.”

  “You can tell my father,” Vidar said, trying to keep his voice even, “that I have no immediate plans to see my mother again. Now may I go?”

  “Of course.” Vali opened his arms expansively. “Vidar, you are always free to go. We are your family, not your jailers.”

  Vidar collected his damp cloak. “Thank you.”

  “Odin says you’re welcome to visit at any time.”

  Vidar was already halfway out the door. The drizzle intensified to rain almost immediately.

  “Do you have any message to pass on to your father?” Vali asked.

  Vidar paused in the doorway, looking back inside the gloomy hall with all its gleaming riches. “No.”

  “Good-bye then.”

  With relief, Vidar closed the door behind him and headed for the stables. The sea roared in the distance, the cold harsh smell of seaweed and salt heavy in the air. Victoria was safe for the time being, but he had to get across to her very soon.

  Eighteen

  When Vidar returned from Valaskjálf safely, Aud noticed that he slipped back inside his shell, as though he wanted to compensate for having shared too much of himself. He spent the next two days outside in the fields and the mild nights concentrating on his carvings by the fire. Every attempt Aud made to draw him out resulted in a polite smile, a shrug or a gentle protest that he had nothing to say on the matter. Each night, as she slid into bed, she felt more and more isolated. From Vidar, from her family, from her home. From everyone.

  In the years since she had left Vanaheim behind, she had sustained herself on imaginings that Vidar would eventually come to love her. Now that possibility had been erased, she couldn’t bear the long days, the empty nights.

  On the third day, Vidar woke cheerful and came inside early. Aud was struggling to fix the heddle rod on her loom, which she had dropped and cracked the previous day.

  “Do you need some help with that?” he said, peering over her shoulder.

  She glanced up, cautiously hopeful that it might mean he would spend some time with her. “I do,” she said. “I’ve glued it back together, but the rod won’t fit into its seat.”

  He leaned over and began fiddling with the beam. “My mother once got so angry with Odin that she snapped her loom over his head,” he said with a laugh. “I had to make her a new one.”

  “What did Odin do?”

  “He sent her into exile in Jotunheim.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” While he wasn’t looking at her, she gazed at the muscle clenched in his jaw, the curl of his eyelashes. An ache of longing swelled inside her.

  “There,” he said as the rod snapped back into place.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to warm up some wine. Do you want some?”

  “Yes, p
lease.” She tied threads onto her loom, her fingers worked as she watched Vidar. “You’re not going out again this afternoon?”

  “I’ve finished for now,” he said. “The chickens seem happy with their new roof. No leaks.”

  “You are in a fine mood,” she ventured. “Is fixing a roof so restorative?”

  Vidar laughed. “Hard work is its own reward.”

  She kept working, and a few moments later Vidar handed her a cup of wine. She put aside her loom and sipped the drink.

  “What are you making?” he asked.

  “A light cloak for the summer. My last one has fallen apart.”

  “Make me one too,” he said.

  “Gladly.”

  “I’m going away tonight.”

  Aud snapped to attention. “Tonight? Where?” But she knew where, and she also knew why Vidar was in such a good mood.

  “Midgard.” He pressed his lips together, a clear sign that he was about to stop answering her questions.

  “Is that safe? For her?” Her heart beat a little faster and she could feel a blush start in her throat. She knew she shouldn’t ask.

  “I’m going to warn her,” he said. “It may take some time. If anyone from my family should come looking for me, tell them I’ve gone off to Alfheim to meet an old friend.”

  Aud wouldn’t meet his eye. “Certainly.”

  “I’m sorry, Aud. I don’t like to make you lie for me.”

  “Lying to your family is a pleasure,” she said, thinking of Thor. “I just hope that they don’t decide to vent their frustration at your absence on me.”

  Vidar raised his eyebrows. “Aud, I hadn’t even thought of it. Will you be safe here by yourself?”

  Hadn’t even thought of it. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “You can go to Loki if you’d feel safer.”

  “Safer with Loki?” she snorted.

  “Safer than with Thor,” Vidar said.

  Aud shook her head. “I’m certain I’ll be fine. Why is it, Vidar, that it’s you, alone of your family, that I can trust not to hurt me?” Although he had, really. His indifference caused her more pain than Thor’s blow.

  He shrugged, the tight-lipped expression returning. “I’m not like them,” he said.

  “I know.” She thought of the story Loki had told her. “Were you ever like them?” she asked, keeping her voice low and her eyes averted.

  A long silence followed. She looked up. Vidar was staring into the fire, expressionless.

  “Vidar?”

  “I cannot deny my blood,” he said on a breath, “but I was made anew when I met Halldisa.”

  “Halldisa?”

  “Victoria.”

  So she had two names to hate her by. “Loki said that—”

  Vidar turned to her, his brow dark with anger. He looked so fierce that Aud could imagine him as the cruel warrior Loki had warned her about. “Loki knows nothing about me,” he said, pressing his index finger into her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, I . . .” She trailed off. He wasn’t listening to her anyway. He had walked away and was rummaging in the corner for his pack and cloak.

  “Vidar?”

  “It grows dark outside. I’m heading off for Bifrost.”

  “I didn’t mean to anger you.”

  Vidar looked up and offered her a sympathetic expression. “I am pleased to have you in my service,” he said, slowly, as one might speak to a child, “but there are questions I will never answer for you because they are questions you should never have asked.” He returned and stood above her. “Try to understand. You’re young.”

  Anger and indignance washed over her. Here he was, offering her pity again. She, a princess of the Vanir!

  “I don’t care for your secrets, Vidar,” she answered, rising and flinging her cup away from her. It clattered to the floor. “I have enough of my own to entertain me.” She stormed off, slamming her door behind her. She threw herself onto her bed and buried her hot face in the blankets. The horrible injustice of her situation seized her around the ribs with an iron grip, pushing her breath from her lungs.

  For a long time she lay there, a few hot tears squeezing from her eyes. Finally, she heard the sound of hoofbeats and knew that Vidar had left. She sat up and peered behind the shutter. The sun was setting, but clouds blocked the light. She was so keenly lonely, and had no idea how long it would be before she saw Vidar again.

  An itch in her hands, a prickle in her lungs.

  What on earth am I thinking?

  She grabbed her cloak and went to the door.

  What on earth am I doing?

  Aud set off into the twilight, heading for Loki’s house.

  Night had sent its long cool fingers across the land by the time Aud neared the hollow where Loki lived. A faint light glimmered under the shutter, the only bright spot in a landscape of grey shadows. She tried not to think about Vidar, whether he had reached Bifrost, whether he held his beloved in his arms already. Head down, she kept moving.

  Paused at the path to Loki’s door.

  This was ridiculous. Surely, Loki cared nothing for her loneliness. Much of the time she could scarcely tell whether he liked her or loathed her.

  The door opened.

  “Well, Aud,” Loki said. He was backlit by the fire. The soft-sharp smell of smoke was rich in the air. “Are you coming in?”

  “How did you—?”

  “I heard footsteps, I took a peek under the shutter.” He hugged himself and shivered theatrically. “Come on, then. It’s cold out here.”

  She hesitated.

  “Come on, girl. I don’t mind you coming. I’d like the company.” He turned his back to her and went inside.

  Aud took a breath and held it. Released it slowly. One foot in front of the other, she made her way through the overhanging branches to his house.

  “Where’s Vidar?” Loki asked as she closed the door behind her.

  “I don’t know where he is,” she said carefully, following him to the fireside.

  Loki smiled. The flames painted his skin with amber. “Of course you don’t. You don’t know anything at all. Do you even know why you’re here?”

  “I . . . I . . .”

  Loki wrung his hands and adopted a high girlish voice. “I . . . I . . .”

  All the anger and loneliness burst inside her. “I’m here because I don’t know what else to do,” she sobbed.

  Loki’s face instantly softened. He pulled her toward him and enclosed her in a hug. “I know why you’re here,” he said.

  She sobbed against his chest. A small rational part of her, far outside herself, watched her and condemned her foolishness. “It’s not fair,” she cried. “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not, Aud.”

  Aud clung to him and vented her tears, relishing the contact with another body, even if it was Loki, cool as a statue. “I love him,” she said through her tears.

  “I don’t know why.”

  “He’s good and kind and—”

  “I can’t tell you how sick I am of hearing that rubbish,” Loki said, pushing her away. “Look at you. You’re a tear-stained mess. What man who cared for you would leave you in such a state? He hasn’t the slightest consideration for you. I’ll grant you he doesn’t beat you and insult you like those rock-heads at Valaskjálf, but he has frozen you with his indifference. All you want is for him to recognize that you have a warm, beating heart; all you want is for him to acknowledge that what you care about matters. But he doesn’t.” Loki leaned close, smiling mischievously. “Aud, he cares more about his horse than about you.”

  She felt her face crumple again as a hiccuping sob wrenched at her throat. Willingly, she put her arms out for Loki to hold her. He pressed her against him, his fingers idling with the knot of her scarf at the nape of her neck.

  “Ah, there,” he said softly. “Have a good cry, girl. You’ll feel happy again soon.”

  “I’m so far away from happy,” she whispered, bringing her tear
s under control. Her pulse was jumping under his cold fingers. “Farther than the most distant stars.”

  He bent his head to kiss her cheek, and his lips ran down across her chin and found a warm curve at her throat. “Then accept your unhappiness and live a life of selfish, meaningless pleasures.”

  A slow tide of desire was making its way up her body, starting in her toes, flooding into her stomach and fingertips. “Is that what you do?”

  “I’m not unhappy.” He stood back and shed his shirt, led one of her hands to his smooth chest. He was no warmer than moonbeams. She traced her fingertips across his skin and shivered.

  “Let us find a warm place to lie,” he said, stepping away from her.

  “I won’t lie with you.”

  “Yes, you will,” he said without a backward glance. He gathered an armful of skins and spread them on the floor next to the fire, then sat down. “Come,” he said, offering her the space next to him.

  Aud felt like a marionette, poised in space by an idle string.

  “Come, Aud. It’s nothing. It’s just sharing a few body parts. It will feel nice, then we’ll have something to eat.”

  How she ached, then, for Vidar, for lovemaking that wasn’t nothing. She sighed. “I might as well,” she said.

  “You flatter me with your ardor,” Loki replied, biting back a laugh.

  Aud went to him. He undressed her and laid her gently on her back. She closed her eyes.

  “No, no,” he said. “Keep them open. I don’t want you pretending I’m him.”

  Aud was glad for the fire, because her lover was skilled but cold. She gave herself over to sensation, let her body lead the way instead of her troubled mind, and when the selfish, meaningless pleasure had ended, she was glad for Loki’s company.

  “Do you think dogs and horses and birds enjoy that as much as we do?” he asked, pulling a bearskin up over their intertwined bodies.

  “I’d never thought of it,” Aud replied, snuggling her head into his chest. “I don’t suppose they do.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You are beautiful, Aud. Vidar is a fool not to return your love.”

  She smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “Thank you.”