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elise_rashaYeah, this is what I want to do on Fridays - post snippets. Many will be in the rough draft stages, but that's okay. I like it when I can see the evolution of a person's writing skills, and it always becomes obvious with each new story a person writes.
Without any further ado, Frost Giants! From chapter . . . I don't know the number yet. ^_^ But, to me, it's an intense scene and heartbreaking, one in which everyone involved is right but also know there is no other choice for what's about to happen next.
Enjoy!!
*************************************************************************
Odin stared at the assembly of Gods, Valkyrie, warriors, and humans gathered before him. Grim and determined faces gazed right back at him. The only ones missing for this council were Heimdall ever present at the edge of the Bifrost, Loki who had fallen finally asleep next to his son Sleipnir, Thor who watched over the trickster to be sure none of the stable servants disturbed the God of Mischief, and Bragi, who had left Asgård for the first Midgård. The watchman had informed the King of Asgård both of his son’s departure and what Loki had learned of Arvid’s hideout. The bits of information disturbed him. He relayed everything said to him to those awaiting his command.
“This is most distressing news indeed,” Freya said. Murmurs of agreement ran through the crowd. “If what Loki has discovered is true and I am not saying it is not, the frost giants will most assuredly outlast us as we know not the ways to even find them. With such cold weather battering Midgård, we will not last long in a siege, no matter what tactics we utilize. What plans do you have for us, Odin, if we know not how to draw them out especially now that Arvid has prize?”
“The same way you always have when you have not wished to come up with another way or when you wanted to cheat,” a cold voice answered. All heads turned as Thor and Loki entered the hall. For the third time in all of Odin’s long years and memory, the King of Asgård noticed the God of Mischief’s face, and his heart sank. Thin streaks of black and blue paint lined Loki’s cheeks and forehead, a sharp contrast against his pale skin. His hair for the longest time after Ragnarök had always been a light blond. With his powers restored, with him rested and given some healthy servings of food and Idun’s apples, black had started to bleed through the almost white locks, eliciting gasps from everyone there. From the hard glare Loki gave to each and every assembled warrior and God, Odin had a guess as to what the trickster was about to say next. A sad and heavy weight settled over the ancient God’s heart with the realization that Loki was quite possibly right. For them, the trickster was nothing more than a tool to be used when needed, discarded and ignored when not.
“What is that supposed to mean, Lie smith?” Freya demanded.
“You know quite what I mean, fallen Queen of the Vanir,” Loki said, his lips curling into a slight sneer. “Yet again, the Gods have found themselves in a position where brute strength alone is not enough. You will need someone with clever and cunning to lure the frost giants out of their hiding hole. You will need every trick at your disposal.”
“We do not need you for clever and cunning,” Freyr said with contempt, speaking before his sister could.
“Who then will you have infiltrate the frost giants’ lair?” the trickster asked. His voice remained cold, unwavering. “Indeed, how will you do such a thing in the first place when you know not where to find said lair? You already know they hide themselves from Heimdall. Do you honestly expect him to tell you when he himself cannot see them?”
Odin closed his eye. At some point, either during his quest for wisdom or sometime after – he was no longer sure which – he had lost his sense of compassion. For centuries, he had been no different from the others with whom he held council. The God of Mischief had always been a means to an end for them thanks to his abilities to change forms and use of his silver tongue. When they no longer needed him, when they had no reason to keep him in their company, he and the other Gods ignored the trickster, cursing his name when the boredom became too much for Loki. Yes, the trickster had always been a means to an end, a weapon to hone and use against their enemies but never against them.
“God of Lies,” Freya said, “I think you place more value upon yourself than what is truly there.”
“I agree,” Loki said. “You do not need me. You have never once needed me, only that which I represent and what I can do for you. I am nothing more than a weapon of magic and trickery. However, I am not a God of Lies, as you have so eloquently stated. I am the God of Mischief. I will do as what is needed.”
“And what price do you require of us, God of Lies?” It was the Vanir’s turn to sneer. “Do not think for a moment we believe you would ask nothing of us. Nay, we do not need to know what price you would ask of us for your assistance. We need you not for combatting Arvid.”
“Ah,” Odin interjected, “but I have already asked for Loki’s aid in the upcoming battle. I asked him when I released him from his bonds.”
The King of Asgård opened his eye to the grief and horror stricken expressions of all but Loki, Baldur, and Thor. He and the trickster’s gazes met. “Though I do not recall asking you to do much more than just fight at my side,” the ancient God murmured.
“There is only one way to bring Arvid and Jezebel out of hiding,” Loki replied. “And that is for me to infiltrate the mountains, rescue Gerda, and bring her to a point where Arvid and Jezebel have no other choice but to give chase.”
“Odin,” Freya said. “You know he will exact a price from us for this. He . . .”
“He is right.” Odin rose to his feet. “He is the only one who knows how to get into the frost giants’ lair. He is the only one who even knows where they hide. And he has the right to exact any price from us for our lack of faith in him.”
“I wish nothing from any of you,” Loki said, his voice cold. “I simply wish to get this over with before Arvid gains his true prize from Gerda.”
Odin searched for any sign of deception in the trickster’s eyes. Loki was not called Silver Tongue without reason, and his words more often than not were just that: words. They were his greatest weapons against anyone.
Instead of hints of deceit and something deeper, the King of Asgård saw emptiness, loneliness, and great despair.
“So you say, trickster,” Freya murmured.
“Believe what you will,” Loki replied. “I care not.”
“I believe you should be trusted to do this alone,” the Vanir Goddess retorted.
“He will not be going alone,” Thor said. “Loki and I have discussed the matter on the way here, the reason why we were not here sooner. I and I alone will accompany him into the mountains.”
A chorus of outrage and concern followed the God of Thunder’s announcement. Odin fought the urge to collapse back into his chair. Thor? Accompanying Loki on what was now starting to sound like a suicide mission? In the past, the two had gone on many adventures together. Thor perhaps thought this would be no different, and a myriad of thoughts and questions assaulted the King of Asgård. Was the trickster still out to cost Odin more than what he could bear to lose? Thousands of years of mistrust flowed through him, and he struggled to maintain control over himself and his emotions. Strong hands clasped his arms.
“Father,” his son murmured, “the plan Loki and I have come up with is as sound as we could have dreamt up in such a short amount of time. With the rings Sif and I have had forged, along with his shape-shifting abilities, we should be able to retrieve the giantess and not raise any suspicion until it is too late for Arvid and Jezebel. Trust me if you do not trust Loki’s motives. He insisted on doing this alone while still grief-stricken. This task he cannot do with his mind clouded so.”
“Who will go with you?” he asked.
“As I said, Father, it will be just me and Loki.”
“Thor . . .”
“The second ring is for Gerda should the need arise. Loki insisted upon me bringing it.”
Odin’s chest constricted. So many words flitted around him, he wasn’t sure of what to think or to feel.
“Loki intended to do this alone?”
“Yes, Father. I, in good conscious, could not allow him to do this on his own. Not after everything he has lost because of the frost giants and our own inability to protect him as one of us.”
“What you are proposing is suicide, my son.”
“Loki seems to think so as well.” Thor grinned. “However, I know my own strength. I will have Mjölnir with me. We will retrieve Gerda. This is something I will not allow him to do go on this quest without some kind of assistance.”
The knot in Odin’s chest tightened with every word Thor uttered. He’d just regained Baldur and Hod back from Helheim. The last thing . . .
‘I cannot stop him from going. I can forbid him from doing so, but he is his own man. He will do as he wishes, despite my protests. That has always been his way.’
“I do not expect you to do any less.” Odin inhaled a deep breath. “Where are you and Loki heading and what do you require of me?”
“A distraction at best. If the Jötuns’ attentions are diverted elsewhere, the greater chance of success Loki and I will have.”
Odin nodded.
“Consider it done.”
Without any further ado, Frost Giants! From chapter . . . I don't know the number yet. ^_^ But, to me, it's an intense scene and heartbreaking, one in which everyone involved is right but also know there is no other choice for what's about to happen next.
Enjoy!!
*************************************************************************
Odin stared at the assembly of Gods, Valkyrie, warriors, and humans gathered before him. Grim and determined faces gazed right back at him. The only ones missing for this council were Heimdall ever present at the edge of the Bifrost, Loki who had fallen finally asleep next to his son Sleipnir, Thor who watched over the trickster to be sure none of the stable servants disturbed the God of Mischief, and Bragi, who had left Asgård for the first Midgård. The watchman had informed the King of Asgård both of his son’s departure and what Loki had learned of Arvid’s hideout. The bits of information disturbed him. He relayed everything said to him to those awaiting his command.
“This is most distressing news indeed,” Freya said. Murmurs of agreement ran through the crowd. “If what Loki has discovered is true and I am not saying it is not, the frost giants will most assuredly outlast us as we know not the ways to even find them. With such cold weather battering Midgård, we will not last long in a siege, no matter what tactics we utilize. What plans do you have for us, Odin, if we know not how to draw them out especially now that Arvid has prize?”
“The same way you always have when you have not wished to come up with another way or when you wanted to cheat,” a cold voice answered. All heads turned as Thor and Loki entered the hall. For the third time in all of Odin’s long years and memory, the King of Asgård noticed the God of Mischief’s face, and his heart sank. Thin streaks of black and blue paint lined Loki’s cheeks and forehead, a sharp contrast against his pale skin. His hair for the longest time after Ragnarök had always been a light blond. With his powers restored, with him rested and given some healthy servings of food and Idun’s apples, black had started to bleed through the almost white locks, eliciting gasps from everyone there. From the hard glare Loki gave to each and every assembled warrior and God, Odin had a guess as to what the trickster was about to say next. A sad and heavy weight settled over the ancient God’s heart with the realization that Loki was quite possibly right. For them, the trickster was nothing more than a tool to be used when needed, discarded and ignored when not.
“What is that supposed to mean, Lie smith?” Freya demanded.
“You know quite what I mean, fallen Queen of the Vanir,” Loki said, his lips curling into a slight sneer. “Yet again, the Gods have found themselves in a position where brute strength alone is not enough. You will need someone with clever and cunning to lure the frost giants out of their hiding hole. You will need every trick at your disposal.”
“We do not need you for clever and cunning,” Freyr said with contempt, speaking before his sister could.
“Who then will you have infiltrate the frost giants’ lair?” the trickster asked. His voice remained cold, unwavering. “Indeed, how will you do such a thing in the first place when you know not where to find said lair? You already know they hide themselves from Heimdall. Do you honestly expect him to tell you when he himself cannot see them?”
Odin closed his eye. At some point, either during his quest for wisdom or sometime after – he was no longer sure which – he had lost his sense of compassion. For centuries, he had been no different from the others with whom he held council. The God of Mischief had always been a means to an end for them thanks to his abilities to change forms and use of his silver tongue. When they no longer needed him, when they had no reason to keep him in their company, he and the other Gods ignored the trickster, cursing his name when the boredom became too much for Loki. Yes, the trickster had always been a means to an end, a weapon to hone and use against their enemies but never against them.
“God of Lies,” Freya said, “I think you place more value upon yourself than what is truly there.”
“I agree,” Loki said. “You do not need me. You have never once needed me, only that which I represent and what I can do for you. I am nothing more than a weapon of magic and trickery. However, I am not a God of Lies, as you have so eloquently stated. I am the God of Mischief. I will do as what is needed.”
“And what price do you require of us, God of Lies?” It was the Vanir’s turn to sneer. “Do not think for a moment we believe you would ask nothing of us. Nay, we do not need to know what price you would ask of us for your assistance. We need you not for combatting Arvid.”
“Ah,” Odin interjected, “but I have already asked for Loki’s aid in the upcoming battle. I asked him when I released him from his bonds.”
The King of Asgård opened his eye to the grief and horror stricken expressions of all but Loki, Baldur, and Thor. He and the trickster’s gazes met. “Though I do not recall asking you to do much more than just fight at my side,” the ancient God murmured.
“There is only one way to bring Arvid and Jezebel out of hiding,” Loki replied. “And that is for me to infiltrate the mountains, rescue Gerda, and bring her to a point where Arvid and Jezebel have no other choice but to give chase.”
“Odin,” Freya said. “You know he will exact a price from us for this. He . . .”
“He is right.” Odin rose to his feet. “He is the only one who knows how to get into the frost giants’ lair. He is the only one who even knows where they hide. And he has the right to exact any price from us for our lack of faith in him.”
“I wish nothing from any of you,” Loki said, his voice cold. “I simply wish to get this over with before Arvid gains his true prize from Gerda.”
Odin searched for any sign of deception in the trickster’s eyes. Loki was not called Silver Tongue without reason, and his words more often than not were just that: words. They were his greatest weapons against anyone.
Instead of hints of deceit and something deeper, the King of Asgård saw emptiness, loneliness, and great despair.
“So you say, trickster,” Freya murmured.
“Believe what you will,” Loki replied. “I care not.”
“I believe you should be trusted to do this alone,” the Vanir Goddess retorted.
“He will not be going alone,” Thor said. “Loki and I have discussed the matter on the way here, the reason why we were not here sooner. I and I alone will accompany him into the mountains.”
A chorus of outrage and concern followed the God of Thunder’s announcement. Odin fought the urge to collapse back into his chair. Thor? Accompanying Loki on what was now starting to sound like a suicide mission? In the past, the two had gone on many adventures together. Thor perhaps thought this would be no different, and a myriad of thoughts and questions assaulted the King of Asgård. Was the trickster still out to cost Odin more than what he could bear to lose? Thousands of years of mistrust flowed through him, and he struggled to maintain control over himself and his emotions. Strong hands clasped his arms.
“Father,” his son murmured, “the plan Loki and I have come up with is as sound as we could have dreamt up in such a short amount of time. With the rings Sif and I have had forged, along with his shape-shifting abilities, we should be able to retrieve the giantess and not raise any suspicion until it is too late for Arvid and Jezebel. Trust me if you do not trust Loki’s motives. He insisted on doing this alone while still grief-stricken. This task he cannot do with his mind clouded so.”
“Who will go with you?” he asked.
“As I said, Father, it will be just me and Loki.”
“Thor . . .”
“The second ring is for Gerda should the need arise. Loki insisted upon me bringing it.”
Odin’s chest constricted. So many words flitted around him, he wasn’t sure of what to think or to feel.
“Loki intended to do this alone?”
“Yes, Father. I, in good conscious, could not allow him to do this on his own. Not after everything he has lost because of the frost giants and our own inability to protect him as one of us.”
“What you are proposing is suicide, my son.”
“Loki seems to think so as well.” Thor grinned. “However, I know my own strength. I will have Mjölnir with me. We will retrieve Gerda. This is something I will not allow him to do go on this quest without some kind of assistance.”
The knot in Odin’s chest tightened with every word Thor uttered. He’d just regained Baldur and Hod back from Helheim. The last thing . . .
‘I cannot stop him from going. I can forbid him from doing so, but he is his own man. He will do as he wishes, despite my protests. That has always been his way.’
“I do not expect you to do any less.” Odin inhaled a deep breath. “Where are you and Loki heading and what do you require of me?”
“A distraction at best. If the Jötuns’ attentions are diverted elsewhere, the greater chance of success Loki and I will have.”
Odin nodded.
“Consider it done.”
