Tasty Loki

“They also need to eat.” Frigga rose, the babe in her arms. “I will be in the nursery. Welcome back, love.”

“And after this meeting, I will find you some of my mother’s journals,” Odin promised, and left.

Frigga walked to the nursery, shielding her bundle. Nanna was there, her husband’s oldest son’s wife, watching Balder’s young brother Thor in preparation for having children of her own.

“My lady?” asked Nanna.

“I have a new charge for you,” Frigga said. “But first, he must meet his brother.” And called, softly: “Thor?”

“Mama!” The blond boy, nearly four years old and still long-haired, rushed to her barefoot and wearing a loose tunic. His bright blue eyes echoed Odin’s single one; there was no mistaking who this brawny, confident child belonged to. Frigga loved him yet always felt fragile in his vicinity; thankfully, Nanna had the strength of character to keep him well-behaved. “Mama, you brought me something?”

“Yes, my brave, my bold Thor; your father and I have someone new for you to meet. This is your brother Loki.”

“Brother? Loki!” As Frigga unwrapped the child, Thor climbed up on the bench beside her, and kissed the baby. “He’s sweet!”

Nanna looked confused; Frigga said, “Odin had no milk with him, so fed the boy mead. I expect he’s hungry again.”

“We have some goat’s milk left,” said Nanna, and rose to fetch it.

“Thor, what do you say to your brother?”

“Hello…”

“’Hello, I am…’” she prompted.

“Hello, Loki, I am Thor. I am your big brother.”

“What are your duties as big brother?”

Thor looked into the baby’s face, his bright green eyes. “And I will always love you and protect you.”

“Now kiss him again, and let Nanna care for him.”

That night, there was a banquet celebrating Odin’s return. The High Table had been rearranged, sharp observers noted; while Odin sat with Thor on his right and Frigga on his left, as always, beyond Frigga sat Nanna then Balder (who usually sat next to Thor and Hermod, on the right; while Nanna stayed away from such things).

Einar, who was sharp-eyed, sat next to Heimdall, whose eyes missed nothing. “Wonder what this is about, then.”

“I expect we will see,” said Heimdall.

And, once food had been delivered, praised, and consumed, Odin stood to address the group. “My friends. As many of you know, I have long been travelling in search of a mage who can ripen our spring into summer. Although you praise my talents along these lines, I confess I am not capable of ending the climate shift which first the Jotnar, then, in saving us, our allies the Vanir, have laid upon our land.

“And I found no mage in the nine realms both strong enough and wise enough to bring back the rest of the seasons.”

The audience was shocked. Heimdall could hear Einar’s quiet “My Lord…” in the forefront of the cries.

Odin, still standing, raised a hand and spoke over them all. “Yet. I found no such mage yet. But I found someone who may suffice, if we can only be patient for twenty years or so.”

“We have not food for twenty years,” Hermod announced.

“Then we must be craftier, or willing to borrow from our friends. Perhaps the time can be shortened; but wait we must.”

Again Hermod: “But why, Lord?”

And from Balder, on the other side of the table. “Yes, my King, why?” As others asked as well…

“Silence! I said I have found a solution. I found one mage in Jotunheim who will suit us, one day. He is too young now, but he promises to be stronger than I, or than any mage who has ever set foot in Asgard. Frigga?”

Frigga stood with a calm face, and a veiled bundle.

“Show him, Frigga,” Odin said; and she held up, uncovered, the dark-haired baby boy. Odin said, “This is our new son, Loki. He is rich in magic. Let him grow up among us, love him as you love the rest of my family, help us to teach him all he needs to know; and once grown he may lift this curse.”

“May?” That was Einar, shouting.

“He’s my brother!” That was Thor, high-pitched and loud, shouting back. “He’ll fix things! Of course he will!”

“Where did this brother come from?” yelled Einar.

Odin left the high table and walked toward him. “Einar Sigurdson. You are my kinsman, from my home village. Who do you speak for?”

“There are other resources in Jotunheim! We can take those!”

“No,” said Odin, “we shall stay on the peace-road for now. There is no need to start another war, especially against our own kinfolk who have gone to rebuild Jotunheim. We do not need two Realms destroyed. Not again.”

Einar huffed through his nose. More quietly, he said, “You did not answer my question.”

“I found him in Jotunheim, the son of an old comrade there. Have you more questions? No? Then fare you well, cousin.”

Einar stood, left; after the slightest of nods from Odin, Heimdall went with him.

“A likely story,” Einar said. They were outside the hall, now, and out of hearing of the guards.

“What do you think, then?” asked Heimdall. “I do not read minds.”

“Odin was gone for many months. Did not his search start in Jotunheim?”

Heimdall hummed, not committing himself.

“I'd wager the boy is another one of Odin’s bastards, like Hermod or Balder. He must have found some Jotunn hedge-witch.”

“Frigga accepts the boy,” Heimdall pointed out.

“Would she want another hard birth such as Thor’s was? Of course she accepts the boy.”

“Hmmm,” said Heimdall. “I must return to my task. Good evening to you and yours.”

“And to you and your sister!”

With that, the two parted company, and went their separate ways.