Legends
My fourth day on “Earth” – Midgard, as the Midgardians say it – is a lazy one, given my lingering state of contented exhaustion. I occupy myself with intellectually devouring more writings from Atlanta’s library, deflecting her profuse apologies for demanding seiðrworks from me without paying attention to the energy cost, while Atlanta herself dutifully conducts her own studies.
But she does not only conduct her studies, apparently, ensconced at her desk as she has been, because then she makes a noise of surprised exclamation and rushes to me with an open book.
It is a book of “Norse legends.”
And there, the stories are… twisted, or simply bizarre.
Especially when it comes to my part.
Atlanta is not the only one who is horrified.
“Sleipnir is Odin’s steed, true, but he is NOT my child,” I hastily write on our conversation paper, clarifying the tall tales. “I know not of those purported to be my children or my spouses. I am not Odin’s blood-brother, either.” `No, just his second son.` “Ðeoric is one of Odin’s guards, true, but he has never sought to settle down with a wife, let alone one named Sygin. Most of all, I am NOT a jötun.”