Loki ignored him and focused instead on the spot where he had buried the seed.
The small mound of dirt trembled slightly before one thin, green shoot fought its way out and continued its upward creep. As it grew, it thickened and turned brown, and offshoots eventually split and traversed their own path, upward and outward, creating a quickly spreading lattice of green and brown branches. Balder gaped open-mouthed, and even Thor registered awe as the young tree’s bark grew thicker and the branches sprouted small leaves.
Loki craned his head upwards to watch the progression of the tree. The trunk expanded, moving earth around it, and smaller branches shot off from larger ones, the leaves creating a canopy that blocked the sun. White petals formed and swiftly grew into blossoms, and then just as quickly fell to the ground, creating a snowstorm around him. Where blossoms had been, small orbs grew, green at first, then tinting more and more yellow till they were a gold that rivaled Sif’s hair.
He reached up and pulled one down. He handed it to Balder.
“
Idun is here, even more a part of Asgard than before.”
Balder hesitantly took the offered fruit and held it up to his face, inspecting it closely with his tired eyes. He looked back at Loki with suspicion.
“
This does not erase your misdeeds,” he said, before slowly bringing the apple to his mouth and sinking his remaining teeth into its flesh.
Chapter Thirteen
Loki walked through the doors of Gladsheim. He had been summoned by Odin, and he made his way there quickly. It had been only days since Thiazi had been defeated. After having eaten of Idun’s fruit, the Aesir were regaining their vitality and vigor.
He had seen Tyr rise from his chair to stand on his own feet, the fog on his brain disappearing. For the first time in weeks, Tyr appeared to know where he was and what was going on around him. Thor stood up straight once more, regaining his stature, and the flab that encircled his arms and legs had returned to iron sinew. Balder, the youngest and once most handsome of them all, began regaining that clearness of complexion that marked him as eternally young and vital. Freyja, previously bald save the long, white wisps that pathetically clung to her wrinkled orb, saw her features smooth, her figure fill out, her silver hair return. No longer was she merely a bone case for her brittle and papery skin. And although she was not yet as radiant as she had been, it was undeniable that she would be so again.
Loki witnessed these transformations with anticipation. It was true that they blamed him for their decrepit state, but it was also true that such suffering had been necessary to end Thiazi's threat. Now that their youth was returned, would they not see that his actions formed part of a larger plan? And even if they did not, Odin would acknowledge his role. The others, spiteful as they may be, would have no choice but to accept him.
The Aesir were assembled in their customary seats. Odin sat on his throne, his wife, Frigg, to his right. On either side the rest of the Aesir were gathered: Thor and his wife, Sif of the golden hair; Balder and Nana, his consort; Bragi the master of poesy; Njord of the Vanir; and Odin’s sons, Vali, Vidar, and Hermod all sat on one side of the hall. Tyr, the twins Freyja and Frey, Ull the master archer, Forseti the just, Thor’s son Magni, said to possibly rival his father in strength, Aegir of the oceans, Heimdall on a rare excursion from Bifrost, and Loki’s faithful wife, Sigyn sat on the other. All faces were somber, all eyes on Loki as he approached.
“
You summoned me to council, Allfather?”
Odin stared at him. Loki wondered if the Allfather were seeing him or something entirely different, even while they locked eyes.
“
Tyr, speak the charge.”
In response to Odin’s command, Tyr stood from his chair slowly, his strength not fully returned.
“
Loki, you stand accused of betraying Asgard, of consorting with our mortal enemies in Jotunheim. You stole Idun from her sacred orchards and brought a plague upon the Aesir. You brought the giant Thiazi to our very doorstep. If not for the all-knowing wisdom of the High One, all would have been lost. You failed to . . .”
Loki’s attention trailed off as he looked around at the assembled faces. Only two did not appear overtly hostile; his wife, Sigyn, who looked sympathetic, and Thor, who looked bored. He could bear the anger of the others. It was Odin’s proclamation that counted here.
When Tyr finished his litany, the others mumbled in angry tones. Balder was engaged in fierce complaint with Nana and angrily gesturing towards him. Heimdall glared silently. Sigyn held her head down, looking guilty and uncomfortable.
A gesture from Odin silenced them. “What say you in your defense?”
Loki paused, taking one last look at the gods glaring at him. He felt strangely at ease despite the discomforting stares. The Allfather would soon forgive his trespasses, would explain how he himself had given Loki the task of luring Thiazi to Asgard, and he would derive great satisfaction in seeing the surprised looks on their faces.
“
All here have judged me as lacking,” he began. “Yet my efforts have preserved Asgard, have protected us against our enemies. I have suffered indignities that none here could know, and I have persevered, for the sake of Asgard.” The angry glares continued.
“
It is true that my ways are unusual. I do not have Tyr’s skill with a blade, nor Thor’s strength. But my gifts, though different, are used only to defend Asgard.
“
We have opened our doors to two who are different, and accepted them as our own, despite the fact that at one time they were our sworn enemies. Now that Vanir and Aesir no longer fight, we welcome Frey and Freyja. If welcome is offered to strangers and their ways, why should it be refused to one who has been here since the Nine Worlds were young?”
Some of the gods looked at each other briefly, but Loki could not tell if he had persuaded any of them. Odin sat stone-faced and silent, no indication on his face of where his opinion would fall. But he had sent Loki to Thiazi, and of all of them, the Allfather would appreciate his service to Asgard.
“
You call me ‘Sly One’ and worse, but it is my very ability to craft plans that has allowed me to contribute in the greatest manner to Asgard. Would the strength of my steel have lured away the mason's horse and won the bargain? And now our wall is rebuilt, better than before, so that when Ragnarok comes we will be better prepared to face it.
“
It is true that I took Idun, but had I not done so the giant Thiazi may have found her and done it himself, and the cost would have been severe. I was able to convince her to go with me and still keep her orchards unharmed, and it was I who rescued her from Thrymheim, luring the giant here to his death, ending his threat and securing the safety of Asgard once more.
“
Every sacrifice, every plan, every action I undertake is in service to Asgard. Before you pass judgment on me, consider what you have gained, and what you might have lost if not for my actions.”
The hall was silent. As he looked from face to face, he saw some softening of expression, although not much. Still, any change in their view of him was unexpected.
Loki stood still, anticipating the response. He had no delusion that one plea could change their perception of him. It would be a slow process, and only a fool would think that all would accept him. Heimdall would never see him as anything but an enemy. Balder would probably always have enmity for him. Many, however, might be able to let go of past grievances and allow old wounds to heal. He could envision Tyr doing so, and even Thor, who he had aided many times. For his part, he would let old grudges fade. There was nothing to be gained by nursing them, and much to be lost.
Odin glanced over at one side of the assembled gods and then the other before addressing them. “Speak your thoughts.”
“
The end of Asgard was nearly upon us due to him,” Balder said. “Time and again, Loki has shown that he has no regard for anything but his own skin. He claims to serve Asgard, yet his schemes bring trouble to our door.”
“
But it is true,” Tyr said, “that Loki helped end the threat of Thiazi. If the giant had not been killed, he may have continued to threaten Asgard. Could more like the mason have been sent?”
Balder spoke again, still fervent. “Allfather, he is a stain on the sanctity of Asgard. If he remains, he will surely cause the end of all. He must, at the very least, be exiled.”
Freyja’s soft voice arose. “He is not like the Aesir,” she said. “There is a darkness inside of him, something shifting and black, and I fear that Balder is right. He does not belong here. To allow him to stay is to court the death and destruction that hangs over us.”
“
I am sorry, but I do not agree, sister.” It was golden-haired Sif, wife of Thor. “While Loki’s gifts run contrary to our ways, I do not believe that he is the harbinger of Ragnarok, as you imply. I do not think it is wise that we cast out one of our own when the purpose of his actions was pure, despite the stain of those actions themselves. Mistakes have been made, but who can say what might have happened without Loki?” Loki remembered Sif's fury when, long ago, he had shorn her hair in a moment of puerile abandon. He was happily surprised to see that she could put aside that old grudge.
“
You are ever-forgiving, sister,” Balder replied. “But what might his actions be next? What enemy might he bring to our doorstep? I would not like to wake one morning to find the dragon Nidhogg outside my window, and to later hear Loki explain how necessary it was to bring such a creature here so that he could save us from it.”
Sif did not respond.
Loki looked at Sigyn. Her eyes welled with tears. He regretted the anguish he had caused her, and would have excluded her from this council if he could, despite the fact that she would plainly support him even against all the others. She was not strong-willed or bold, but she was faithful, and he wished that he had been a more attentive husband. But the past could not be changed. After Odin lent his support and ended this council, he would pledge to be a better husband.
Odin spoke. “None of you have any further complaints.” It was a statement, not a question. He had foreseen it, and had made a plain observation.
Loki directed all his attention to the Allfather. Fists clenched at his sides, he awaited the pronouncement.
Odin saw two rows of gods, one on either side, facing each other. One stood between the rows, anticipating some form of judgment. They were in Gladsheim, and all was well in Asgard. Or was it? Was this the present?
The scene shifted, and where the gods sat he now saw an army looming over the horizon and a shattered rainbow bridge in the distance. Broken bodies lay at their feet as they advanced forward, slaying all who stood between them and Asgard. While their sizes varied—some were only twice the size of Thor, others towered nearly as high as the mason—they were all sons of Jotunheim, and they had come to crush the gods.
Far in the distance, one figure stood overlooking the devastation. He was massive and enshrouded in a loose column of smoke and fire, emanating death and destruction. Most of what could be seen of him was outlined by flames. As he drew closer, Odin observed that he was carved from the very flame itself, an elemental being more than a flesh and blood creature. He wondered if such a being could feel the bite of steel.
He looked upwards. A ship sailed high overhead, floating on the clouds above them. The crew staggered about the ship, hobbling like lame rats. At the bow, one stood that he marked as different from the others. He could see the face clearly for a brief moment, and he knew the name, but his vision did not hold.
And then he was elsewhere. He looked around the hall, sensing its familiarity, trying to adjust himself to the circumstances. All the Aesir were gathered, one row on each side, and they looked to him for an answer. One stood in the middle.
In a rush, the roof above him was gone, and he stared out into the black night sky. Some others gathered around him, once more seeking advice, although circumstances seemed far different. He put hand to chin and was surprised when his fingers struck smooth skin. He must have expressed his confusion based on the quizzical looks on the faces around him, but he quickly regained his composure. He had learned to adapt quickly to the shifting circumstances he continuously found himself in.
The faces looked familiar. One of them was speaking.
“
What do we do with the body?” The question was directed at him.
He knitted his brow, but could not recall what body the man—his brother Vili, he now realized—spoke of. “What body is this?”
Vili and his other brother Ve exchanged looks. “It is the body of Ymir, brother.” The name sounded familiar—all names sounded familiar to him; it was maddening. But he could not place where he had heard it before.
“
Who is Ymir?”
Again, there were looks between the two. Instead of words, Vili gestured to something behind Odin. “There,” he said.
He turned to see the bottom of a giant, blue-white foot, towering high above him, lifeless and bloody. The foot was attached to a leg that stretched nearly as far as he could see. Beyond that, there was only the vaguest suggestion of a body that dwarfed the mountains themselves.
“
Ymir,” he said, and memories trickled back again. He had been a frost giant, the first of his kind, and his evil had been plain to the three brothers, Odin, Vili, and Ve. They had . . . slain him? Was that correct? But there was some sort of tie to the creature that he could almost name. It came to him suddenly, and he shuddered for a brief second. This dead monstrosity that he had helped slay, was it true that its blood ran through his own veins?