Loki: Why I Began the End (2 page)

     Unfortunately, I knew that voice. It was Thiazi, the storm giant. He often liked to take the guise of an eagle, feeling that being able to fly brought him closer to Asgard. “What favor?” I asked.

     “I heard you’re in good with Odin. I want some of Iduna’s apples.”

     If it wouldn’t have caused me to plummet to the ground, I would have strangled him. Iduna served the Aesir in Asgard golden apples daily, which kept them ageless in their immortality. “I may have had congenial encounters with Odin, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let me in his front door.”

     The monstrous jerk flew higher, the clouds mounting beneath my feet. “I want some of Iduna’s apples.”

     “Yes!” I cried out desperately. “Fine! Whatever you say! Just set my feet back on the ground, you feathered imbecile!”

     In a flash, he dove back to the ground and halted just near enough to drop me to safety, then sped away, squawking hideously.

     “Some bird...” Hoenir said, watching it fly away.

     “A
giant
bird,” Odin said suggestively.

     He was always clever like that; I started then to understand how people would get so irritated with me. I needed to invent an excuse: “Thiazi, the storm giant. Rumor in Jotunheim is that Loki has been seen chumming up to an Aesir—Odin, no less.”

     “Is that so?”

     “As it happens, Jotun don’t like Aesir, and they really don’t like Odin. So Thiazi took it upon himself to remind Loki of who his kin really is.”

     “And how did Loki take it?”

     “I think I heard him scream like a girl once or twice, but he managed to swallow his shrieks long enough to tell Thiazi very specifically that he would be better suited disguising himself as the back part of a mule instead.”

     He laughed—praise Yggdrasil, he bought it! I allowed myself to laugh, too, and even Hoenir joined in, unable to miss the humor in ridiculing a Jotun.

     I had absolutely no intention in actually following through with my promise to Thiazi. Even if I had wanted to help the great jerk, I couldn’t; Iduna never left Asgard, and I, being a Jotun, was not allowed to enter Asgard. However, being only half-giant and the relative size of a human or Aesir, I was significantly overpowered by the rest of the Jotun, who knew of the promise I made to Thiazi, and banded with him to coerce me into keeping my word. And while Jotunheim was my home, I had to appeal to the citizens, else Angerboda would be peeling me off from beneath Thiazi’s foot. Under such pressure did I formulate a plan.

     Dressed as a human, I made some rounds once again to alehouses—the ones I hadn’t yet drunk dry. While there, I sat myself among the more talkative crowds up at the bar counter. Eventually, their talk would migrate over to me, the mysterious one.

     “What brings you to this part of the world, stranger?” one finally asked.

     “I’m chasing a myth,” I replied.

     “What’s that mean?”

     Pulling together my best storyteller voice, I said, “I’ve heard that there is a hidden grove of sacred trees where golden apples grow.”             

     “Like, solid gold?”

     I shook my head. “Whoever eats them gains immortality.”

     That was all I needed. I went to merely two alehouses, and talk of the magical golden apples spread wider than even the Storm Giant could reach with the full length of his arms. Two days later, as I laid in wait, I saw Iduna descending from the rainbow bridge of Asgard, clutching her ash box, as always, where she stored her apples. I casually wandered out from my place, keeping eyes focused on my path as I walked by. I feigned surprise at seeing a lady at the foot of the bridge, and halted in my tracks. She smiled at me somewhat timidly, and I took it as an opening.

     “Forgive me for staring,” I began. “I was just curious as to where you may be traveling, having come from Asgard.”

      “I have heard there is a sacred grove where enchanted apples grow,” she replied. “I feed my own apples to the Aesir. I thought to find these new apples, and have brought my own to compare.” She raised the lid of the ash box to display the shining golden apples.

     I let my brow fall into a perplexed state. “A grove of enchanted apples? In Midgard? Some ridiculous rumor, I’m sure. There couldn’t be any place like that down here in the humans’ realm.”

     Not a moment later, Thiazi swooped down, his great eagle wings flapping, took hold of Iduna by her fragile arms, and flew away.

     “
Put her down
!”

     Of course he didn’t listen; he wasn’t supposed to. He took her off to Jotunheim. By the time I arrived there myself, I was a hero.

CHAPTER TWO: BROTHERHOOD

I was more glad than I could say. It had been some time since I pulled off a prank, and had never pulled off one of such measure—one to trick the Aesir. Best of all, while the Jotun worshiped me for as long as their slight attention spans would allow, Odin believed in the mask of innocence I had created for myself in my encounter with Iduna before her capture. I very deliberately made myself available to encounter him, walking leisurely by the trunk of the world tree, to show him just how “upset” I was over the poor girl’s abduction. It took hardly even three full days for Odin to approach me at that place.

     At first glance, one would not suppose anything was going wrong with the Aesir. Odin was always excellent in displaying only a countenance of determination, purpose, and at the same time, utmost indifference—a man so guarded, that I almost couldn’t say what to think of him. Almost. With his usual tread of solid, deliberate steps, his face not striking any concerns or troubles, he came to me at the base of Yggdrasil.

     “Loki, my friend, you were witness to the abduction of our Iduna,” he began.

     I nodded slowly and said, “I am more sorry than I can say. Being only half-giant, I am barely contest for an ogre like Thiazi.”

     “You underestimate your abilities, Loki.”

     Though the statement was made simply enough, it struck me—did he determine that it had really been all my plotting? But going on, he made no such declaration to that knowledge.

     “Despite our many powers,” Odin said, “Aesir may still be overtaken by creatures so large and strong as the Jotun. And in speaking with my council, no one could determine a course of action—by force or strategy—to retrieve Iduna from such a dangerous place for us as Jotunheim. So I have come to appeal to you, friend.”

     I felt a sudden shock down my spine, unbelieving that Odin could possibly ask what he was about to.

     “I ask for your help, Loki, in returning Iduna to us. One of my raven scouts confirmed that she is being kept in a high tower, unreachable to anyone not of a giant’s stature.” He then brought up the sack he was carrying and removed a feathered cloak. “This is Freya’s cloak.”

     Now a lump caught in my throat at the sound of Freya’s name, the name of another Aesir being used so freely in my presence.

     “Admittedly, she was hard to convince, but she trusts me. And I will trust you with it, Loki.” Then he handed the cloak over to me, without even waiting to hear any objections. “Wearing this cloak will give you the wings to fly to Thiazi’s keep. Do this for me, Loki, for the Aesir, and you will have our gratitude.”

     To this day, I still cannot account for that moment—how anyone else would have regarded me with distance and trepidation, when he looked at me with such calm and clear conviction. I find it very hard to believe, especially knowing him as I do now, that he didn’t believe I was at all to blame for Iduna’s capture. Why did he give me that cloak? Why did he so readily, with such wisdom as he gained through such dire measures, trust me? Me—the last one in all of Yggdrasil whom anyone would dare to trust.

     Needless to say, I was dumbstruck as I accepted the cloak. For me, it had all just been a fun little game, but now, it was something truly significant. And yet I was silent and still for perhaps only five seconds before I whipped the cloak onto my back, and with my arms sprouting wings, took off into the sky to do exactly as asked by Odin, leader of the Aesir, sum of all wisdom.

     At this point, I was still rather terrified of flying, even though I was the one taking directions of where to go and how fast. Perhaps it has something to do with my fear being realized: being so high on a fantastic and elaborate deception, then being shot down hard to the ground. Whatever the reason for my fear of flying, it made me rather a terrible, unskilled flyer, especially for my first attempt. By the time I managed to make it up the height of Thiazi’s tower, I had bugs in my teeth, twigs in my hair, and dust in my eyes, looking more like a deranged, winged troll than anything else. I had to make myself appear at least somewhat decent, so as not to frighten the innocent and fragile Iduna as I came to the window of her room at the tower’s peak.

     “You, sir!” she said. Unlike most times when I was so addressed, she said it with hope and eagerness.

     “Come along and climb out the window quickly,” I whispered, “before the Storm Giant comes back to look in on you.”

     She complied at once. I held her waist as she put her arms around my neck, and took off flying down the tower, out over Jotunheim. I couldn’t believe how simple and effective the rescue was; surely any of the Aesir could have just as easily accomplished it. My brow furrowed through the winds whipping by my face as I realized that Odin must have been testing me—I am convinced he was. Why else would he have bothered to venture out of his own council to find me for such an easy task? I determined that I passed his test, but what did that mean? Was I now an official traitor to the Jotun who raised me? Had Odin done this to other Jotun, to draw the enemy away from his own kind? I could not see how he could profit from it.

     Especially now, I cannot see what profit he thought to gain from it.

     With these thoughts clouding my mind as the gate to Asgard came into my view, I was suddenly struck in the back, completely disrupting my course and hurtling me toward the ground. In an act which surprised even myself, I made the effort to turn myself in the air, to see that my back would hit the ground, and that I would break Iduna’s fall.

     I don’t remember the impact hurting. I have no doubt that it was painful, and I do remember being terrified in anticipation of the collision to the ground, but I am at a loss trying to describe the pain...I simply don’t remember it. All I remember was opening my eyes and seeing Thiazi as an eagle, soaring straight toward me, his neck and beak sharp as a spear. Then he burst into flames. Just like that, and with a squeal of torture ringing in the air, he burst into flame.

     And I laughed. I just burst out laughing, unable to rise to my feet, barely even able to keep open my eyes because of the laughter. That I do remember, the sound of my own laughter: even more shrill and squawking than ever Thiazi had uttered as an eagle. Then Odin appeared in my view, standing over me, laughing almost as much as I was, and I knew instantly it was his magic that had enflamed the giant bird.

     “You do fine work, friend, fine work indeed!” I said.

     He held out his hand and helped me rise, which I could hardly do with my back feeling so numb and so stiff. If there had been any pain, it had by then been numbed by laughter.

     “You do fine work as well, friend,” he said. “Iduna is safe and will return back to Asgard with us.”

     I naturally assumed his “us” referred to the other Aesir. But as I reviewed the words in my mind and considered his hand of camaraderie on my shoulder, I thought for certain that I had heard him wrong.

     Then Odin, as though it were the most usual, natural thing in the world, put an arm each around Iduna’s and my shoulders as only comrades do, and led us across the Bifrost rainbow bridge which took all three of us up into Asgard.

     However much wisdom the man had taken such literal pains to gather, I was convinced any and all of his senses had then been lost. They must have been, to have so deliberately led me into the Aesir haven. They must have been, for him to do what he did that evening at sunset, with all the hosts of Aesir gathered to watch. At the time, I only accepted what he proposed, because I thought he was joking. He had never been more serious in his life.

     He had never been more foolish in his life.

     “
Whatever bonds have kept us apart
,” he recited, “
this day, we form a bond which will keep us together in soul, however we may lack in congenital flesh
.” At that, he drew a dagger across his palm, and I across mine. He then held out his hand. “Brother.”

     I met his palm with mine and said, “Brother.”

     I don’t remember if there was applause. Traditionally, people would applaud at such a ceremony, but I really can’t imagine that the Aesir were at all glad of Odin’s decision. I don’t remember their reactions at all, because my eyes were concentrated on his, and his on mine. I wonder is he was thinking the same thing I was thinking: whether it was a turning point for the best, or whether it was a climax only to be followed by severe downfall.

     When I returned to Jotunheim the following day, Angerboda was the first to put her hands around my neck, and as she did so, dragged me into her shoddy house, throwing me against the table.

     “We had it, Loki!” she shouted. “We had Iduna, and we had her apples of longevity, and you...I can’t even imagine what was in your head! Freeing her? Risking your duff for someone else? And for the Aesir? I can’t...I just don’t...
Loki
!”

     I had stopped paying attention to her since I collided with the table. I had since then sat myself on top and proceeded to use a fork to scrape the mud off my boots. In a fury at my inept attention, she stormed toward me. All I had to do to stop her in stride was hold out my right hand—scarred. Like pouring water onto a candle flame, she was instantly docile.