(This is a chapter in my novel, Gridhr Jotun-Kin. Click on the menu header, above, titled “Gridhr Jotun-kin: A Serial Novel”, and the list of chapters will appear in order, starting with the Prologue.)
Winifred Hodge Rose
The night after Odin left was clear and bright, a full moon shining and the white star-path gleaming like fresh-fallen snow against the velvet background of the night sky. Gridhr sat outside her cave-dwelling, arms clasped around her knees, musing on the strange turn her life had taken. She carried a new child, Odin’s child and hers. Vidar: a God-child with a mighty wyrd, who would avenge his father’s death and rid the world of the devouring Wolf when his day came. A child whose life would stretch out into worlds of which she knew nothing. She laid her cheek on her knees and sighed, not knowing how to embrace such strange knowledge, how to weave it into the familiar fabric of her own being.
Minutes later, Gridhr started and looked up, hearing the whisper of a great bird’s wings before she could spot its shape in the darkness. An enormous falcon winged low across the landscape, heading toward her. The rims of its feathers gleamed silver in the moonlight, brighter than the stars. A falcon, she thought, flying at night? The bird swooped down to land in front of her, cupping the air in powerful wings as it reached with talons outspread to grapple the snow-patched turf below it. Alighted, the bird tucked its wings and fixed Gridhr with eyes deep-set under bony brows….eyes that reminded Gridhr, strangely, of the dark orbs of Audhumla the Cow, the great Ur-Mother whom she had seen in her vision. The young giantess and the falcon stared at one another while time passed outside of Gridhr’s awareness. The falcon’s eyes seemed to her to be all there was, everything else around her but a shadow, a memory of a dream.
As Gridhr stared bemused, the falcon’s form blurred and flickered. Gridhr rubbed her eyes to clear them, and as she looked again, she saw a mantle of feathers cast upon the ground. Standing with her feet enwrapped in the feathery cloak was a tall Goddess, clad in silver with silver hair, her eyes as dark blue as the night sky. Overwhelmed, Gridhr knew not how to react, but simply stared.
“Gridhr.” The voice was silvery, firm and shining at once, faintly ringing with the sound that Gridhr could sometimes hear, of the stars echoing in the wind of a summer night. “Gridhr, I am Frigg of the Æsir.”
Gridhr felt paralyzed with amazement. No vestige could she feel of her customary challenging fierceness toward the Æsir, traditional enemies to many of the giant-folk. Nor was the familiarity there between her and Frigg, the almost-cameraderie that she had come to feel with Odin as she had stretched her mind to follow his while they walked a wary path toward peace between them. Neither enmity nor familiarity could Gridhr muster, as she tentatively tested different reactions and found that none of them fit the space that lay between herself and the silver-haired Asynja before her, Queen of the Æsir and Odin’s wife.
“Lady? How do you know my name?” Gridhr whispered. “Why are you here?”
A faint smile crossed the star-dusted face of the Goddess. “I know most things, Gridhr, that I want to know,” Frigg answered. “And things that I don’t wish to know, as well,” she whispered, and a cloud passed over the light of her face. “As to why I am here: close your eyes now, and sense within yourself.”
Gridhr did so, suddenly feeling the deep sense of self-knowledge and completeness that she had earlier been seeking. She sank into this sense of herself as into an ocean of light, filled with quiet delight at her knowing. Within her, she perceived a mote of being that was swimming and frolicking, full of life although it was so tiny. Her heart leapt with joy, greeting the child of her blood and her soul as he awoke into life. Entranced, she watched him play like a fish in the ocean of herself, at home and perfect in every way.
Gridhr opened her eyes to look at Frigg, ready to thank her for this gift of knowledge. But her words went unspoken as Frigg caught her mind in a fresh paralysis of surprise. Not one Goddess stood there, but two: one solid and frosted with silver, the younger one shadowy and dim, with feathery dark hair and bright eyes just visible as blue gleams through the shadows of her hair. The young Goddess overlapped the solid outlines of the Æsir’s Queen as though she were a soul-shadow of Frigg, a shadow cast by the bright light of Frigg’s own wisdom.
Stunned, Gridhr watched as the young Goddess slowly drifted apart from Frigg and floated in her direction. As the shadow-Goddess approached her, Gridhr was overcome with giddiness. Blackness filled her sight, and the giantess fell helplessly backwards, sprawled on the winter-brown turf. The ocean of herself billowed and churned, sparks of light and chips of darkness flying like wind-tossed spray from the waves, blinding her senses. She was tossed and turned helplessly, losing all sense of time and place.
Slowly, peace and stillness returned to her. Gridhr took a deep breath, trembling slightly, and opened her eyes. There was no sign of the shadowy young Goddess. Frigg sat beside her, looking up at the stars. Sensing movement, the stately Asynja turned, and again Gridhr was lost in those dark eyes, the eyes of the Ur-Mother.
“Look again now, Gridhr. Look into yourself again.”
Gridhr gazed back at the Goddess, shaken. She was not sure she was ready to face that churning ocean. Hesitantly, she shut her eyes and reached within. Now, as at first, the bright ocean was still and serene, glittering as though kissed by the sun. Gridhr felt deeper: there, again, was the tiny son-mote, playing joyfully within his world that was her self. Gridhr caught her breath with astonishment and was struck again by giddiness. A second mote was there, twin to the first! Intently focused, she caught a fleeting glimpse of feathery darkness and a flash of blue as the second mote joined the first, twirling and spinning about each other in an ecstasy of delight.
Gridhr floated up out of her ocean-self and let out her breath with a deep sigh. She was overwhelmed yet again by the unfathomable strangeness of everything that was happening to her. She lay staring at the stars, breathing deeply to calm herself, trying to gentle her whirling mind and emotions as she would a frightened animal. Slowly she calmed, lying there on the cold sward, feeling the warmth of the quiet Goddess beside her in the darkness.
“Frigg?” Gridhr ventured, and paused for another breath as the tall Asynja turned toward her. Gridhr fought to keep from being entranced again as the dark blue eyes gazed into hers. “I have heard a strange tale told: that the God Heimdal was born of nine mothers. How……..” Gridhr paused, her tongue tangled with questions for which there were no words. Giving up, she asked simply, “Is this the truth?”
“It is the truth, Gridhr.”
Gridhr stared up at the stars, thinking of a shadow-Goddess and of motes playing in the sparkling ocean of herself, and of a Queen who could cast a shadow of being by the bright light of her own wisdom.
“Whose is the child, Lady? The second child, the new one?”
Frigg smiled at her. “Ours, Gridhr. She is mine, and yours, and Odin’s, although he knows her not. Her name is Vør.”
Gridhr breathed deeply, turning within herself to sense all the strange new things that resided within her: tiny beings with names of their own, and changed understanding of things she had always taken for granted. Vør, she thought. Aware: my daughter’s name is Aware. And she is the child of a Goddess, and a God, and of me. Gridhr lay breathing the chill night air, with questions in her heart that seemed to have no answers. She heard again the faint echo of star-song whispered in the wind, calling her out of herself. As Gridhr looked up she saw a great falcon wheeling across the sky, blotting out the stars with the shadow of her silver wings.
~~~
During the following days, Gridhr gradually grew accustomed to the new sense of herself as mother to the two motes within, learning to assimilate the strangeness of how this had come about. Her feelings toward Odin were still very mixed, and she was relieved that he was gone. Though she had come to understand him better, and gain a sense of respect for him and the difficult path he trod, he was not someone with whom she would choose to spend a lot of time. The ordinariness of her days now, caring for her sheep and preparing for all the tasks that spring would bring, was soothing and refreshing to her.
Not long afterwards, a young Jotunn came by with a message from her friends Simul and Svadhi: the naming of their new son was set for four days hence. Gridhr eagerly prepared for the event, and finished with care the name-gift she would give to the babe. She had started this gift some time earlier, but had not finished it due to the strange happenings in her own life. Gridhr put aside her musings and settled down to hard work, finishing the carved wooden chest that was her gift to her name-son by the night before she must leave for her visit.
Early the following morning, she packed into a leather bag the few belongings she needed for her journey, then chose from her herd a strong young ram to bear the chest she had made and carved. The ram himself would be a birthing-gift to Simul. Though Gridhr could have carried the chest herself, it was an awkward burden and she preferred to put the ram to work. He was not as enthusiastic as she was about the arrangement, being unaccustomed to burdens, and Gridhr had to clamp him firmly between her knees while she tied the chest on his back, ignoring his indignant baaing all the while.
Finally they set off, Gridhr leading the ram on a leather rope, through the rapidly melting snow that patched the landscape. Both Gridhr and the ram snuffed the air with appreciation, sensing underneath the dank scent of old snow and frozen earth, a hint of the greenness that would soon appear. Gridhr passed the time of her journey singing many of her favorite songs, enjoying how her strong voice woke echoes among the crags and boulder-fields they passed.
Before she knew it, Gridhr had arrived at Hala’s cave, where she would spend the night before setting out with Hala, too, on the morrow. Gridhr was glad to settle in and fill herself with Hala’s hare stew. The last few days had been busy, and her appetite had been stinted in her distraction with other tasks. As they ate, the ram fidgeted in his makeshift pen in the back of the cave, feeling uneasy in the presence of strange dogs and the absence of his accustomed herd-mates. Twigs snapped as Hala put fresh fuel on the fire after their dinner and sat down beside her fosterling.
“Hala,” Gridhr began, and then hesitated to continue. Hala looked at her questioningly. Gridhr drew a deep breath and began to chuckle. “You told me, Hala: ‘If I give you the answer, you will never have it.’ And you were right, too!” Gridhr’s laugh was quiet, deep in her chest, and her eyes gleamed in the firelight as she glanced sidelong at her foster-mother. “If I had expected Odin, and had known his aim when he arrived, indeed I never would have had the answer I have now. Odin would never have made it past my doorway, sly as he is, without a dented pate!”
Hala grinned, her old face mapped with wrinkles, her deep eyes glowing. “I rather thought so, you know! So, it has happened already, my girl? Sooner than I expected, too, though perhaps not too soon for you, impatient youngling that you are! So, tell me about it, and what you think of it.”
Gridhr told Hala of Odin’s visit and what had passed between them, while Hala listened in contented silence. Hala herself was less belligerent than most Jotnar, holding no particular grudge against the Æsir.
“I am glad, Gridhr, to hear you have a little son coming. I am looking forward to having a grandson from you!”
Gridhr looked at Hala in silence for a moment, then said “Hala, that is not all. Did you see nothing else about this in your vision for me?”
Hala looked at her, puzzled. “No, I didn’t, Gridhr. You asked me who the young God was, and I sought the answer along the soul-paths, and found it. That is all I saw. Why—is there more?”
“Indeed there is, foster-mother, and I’ll wager this is one of the strangest tales you have ever heard. There is not one child within me, but two. I am expecting a daughter as well.”
“Wonderful, Gridhr! I am happy to hear it. But that is not so very strange; twins are not uncommon. Though it is odd–you’re right–that I saw nothing of the sister when I sought knowledge of the brother.”
“It is more strange than that, though, Hala. My daughter was not conceived as most children are.” Hala looked at her questioningly. “The night after Odin left, I had another visitor–a very rare one to visit Jotunn-Home.” A teasing light came into Gridhr’s eyes as she paused for Hala’s curiosity to build.
“Who was he, then, this other visitor?”
“Not ‘he,’ foster-mother, but ‘she.’”
“‘She?’ What do ‘she’s’ have to do with this?”
“Let me ask you this, then, Hala: do you understand how Heimdal’s birth from nine mothers came about?”
Hala looked astounded. Her eyes glazed over as she dropped her gaze to the crackling fire, musing, then turned back to face her fosterling. “I don’t really understand, no, Gridhr, though I believe it is true. In fact…..but no,” she muttered, “let’s leave that for another time. But what has Heimdal to do with your daughter?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just that my daughter seems to have been conceived in a somewhat similar way. After Odin left, the Asynja Frigg came to visit, flying to me in her falcon form. When she took her own form, there was a young shadow-Goddess floating about her, a soul-shadow that Frigg cast from her own soul. What do you think of that?”
“A strange and mighty deed, forsooth,” Hala said wonderingly.
“The shadow-Goddess came toward me and overwhelmed me; visions came upon me then, and when I awoke she was there no longer. But when I looked within myself, there were two children in my womb, not one. I asked Frigg, ‘whose is the second child?’ And she answered that her name is Vor, and that she is the child of Frigg, and Odin, and me, all three. Except she said that Odin does not know of her, yet.”
“This is a wonder indeed, Gridhr. You’re right that I’ve heard nothing like this, at least not outside of a tale about distant doings by unknown folk.”
The two Jotunn-wives mused over the strangeness of these events. Both of them were beginning to nod over the fire when a thought struck Gridhr. “Hala!” she said with some urgency. “Do you think that the soul-faring I will do to seek the new baby’s name will harm my own children?”
Hala raised her nodding head and peered from hooded eyes at Gridhr, her thoughts apparently elsewhere. Gridhr waited.
At length, Hala answered, “No, Gridhr, I think you have no cause to worry. Jotunn-wives seldom have such problems, though I have heard that it sometimes happens with Man-kin women. Also, I see that both your children are very strong, and both have stranger wyrds to live than anything they are likely to experience while they are within you.” Grinning wryly, she added, “They might as well go ahead and get used to it!”
Wondering whether this rede was truly comforting or not, and what else Hala knew that she was not telling, Gridhr finally drifted off to sleep beside the dying fire.
~~~
Guests had already begun to gather for the naming-feast as Gridhr and Hala arrived at the steading of Svadhi and Simul. Gridhr was eager to see and speak with them, many of whom she had not seen in a long while. She and Hala pushed through the throng in the great hall, moving toward the dais where the two householders sat together on a large, high seat. Simul and Svadhi rose when they caught sight of the newcomers, and enfolded Gridhr in hearty bear-hugs. Hala, too, was kindly greeted. Little Hadda, their first child, a daughter, clung around ‘Auntie’ Gridhr’s knees and pleaded to be tossed in the air, which Gridhr did until the child was out of breath with laughter.
“Now, Simul, where is my name-son?” asked Gridhr. “I want to greet him!”
Smiling, Simul reached under the high seat and pulled out a basket. In it, wrapped in fleece and sleeping peacefully through the turmoil, was a plump Jotunn-baby. Gridhr looked on him with admiration, but let him sleep.
“Time enough to kiss him later!” she smiled at her friend. “Come outside now and see what I brought for you!”
Simul and little Hadda admired the fine ram Gridhr had brought as a gift. “I will add him to my flock, Gridhr—I guess you heard that I’ve recently started a flock of wool-sheep? I know your sheep are the finest wool-givers around, and I’m glad to have one of your rams to strengthen my flock! I should probably take some ewes and give them to him—start a separate flock, away from the cranky old ram I have now. What do you say?”
“That would be a good idea, Simul, no point risking either of your rams…unless you want to get rid of the old one, anyway?”
“Well, perhaps…..I don’t know; he’s been around for a long time…..I’ll think about it.”
“Auntie Gridhr, I have a lamb, too!” Hadda was bouncing with excitement.
“You do? Where is it?”
“Ummmmm……well, it isn’t here yet.”
“Where is it, then?”
“It’s still in the ewe’s belly–Mama says I can have it after it’s born, though. I’m going to grow wool, too, and learn to milk when I’m bigger.”
“Yes, you’ll need to be bigger to do any milking, Hadda–otherwise the sheep will knock you down and step on you! You don’t want that!”
“No, I don’t,” the child said, looking fierce. “If a sheep does that, I’ll put it in the stewpot, I will!”
Both Jotunn-wives laughed and took Hadda’s hands, swinging her up and down until she squealed.
“You know, Hadda, I have a little gift for you, too, though it isn’t a lamb.” Gridhr pulled out a small string of delicately carved wooden beads, dyed in different colors, and fastened it around Hadda’s neck.
“Mama, look!” Hadda said proudly. “Now I can wear a necklace on feast days, just like you!”
Simul admired her little daughter, then turned to her friend. “Let’s go inside, Gridhr; I need to see how the food is coming for the feast. It’s almost sundown.” Simul led the way back into her hall, pausing for friendly conversation with her guests as she went, but heading steadily toward the row of huge cauldrons simmering over the long hearth that ran down the center of the hall.
Svadhi and Simul were among the few giants who had adopted the style of wooden long-halls, as the Æsir and Man-kin generally preferred, in place of the caves that were more popular among the Jotnar. Simul had wanted to stay close to her kinfolk, and there were no other caves nearby, so the long-hall had seemed the best idea. Gridhr looked around curiously as they walked, noting improvements in the building and furnishings since she had last visited. She enjoyed the long-hall as a curiosity, but preferred the security and fire-resistance of her cave. Besides, caves seemed more homey to her. But she had to admit that Simul and Svadhi had made a nice home for themselves here. Gridhr’s cave, roomy though it was, would certainly not have accommodated the many trestle tables and benches that had been set out for the crowd of guests here.
It was a fine feast: rich, plentiful, prolonged, and clamorous with cheerful noise. Gridhr thought that Simul and Svadhi must have been saving and planning carefully for many months, to ensure such good and plentiful food at such a thin time of year, though the fresh-caught game added much to the feast, as well. Talk, laughter, and gnawed bones flew through the air, the latter deftly caught by practiced dogs who burrowed into the straw underfoot with their prizes.
When even the most gigantic of appetites had been sated, serving thralls cleared away the food and rolled out barrels of mead. Each barrel was soon surrounded by giants, dipping their drinking horns and filling them to the brim, only to lose half of it as they were jostled by others reaching in for their share. Lively arguments were brewing over the spilled mead, until the skalds began to tune their instruments and wet their throats with the fermented honey-drink. The promise of music, a rare treat, brought a hush over the noisy room. Unexpectedly, tears stung Gridhr’s eyes as she thought of her brother Eggther and his skill in music; she wished yet again that she knew where he was. But the opening notes of the song stilled all thoughts in her mind, and she listened with her heart full of enjoyment.
Gridhr laughed and cheered, along with the others, when the skalds opened their performance with several well-known children’s ditties rather than the usual praise-songs of battle and adventure. The chief skalds were twin sisters, Gnissa and Gneip. Gridhr had seldom had a chance to hear them, and had forgotten how good they were. Even these simple ditties were beautiful as they performed them. They and the other skalds rose after singing several songs suitable to the occasion, and turned toward the high seat where Svadhi and Simul were seated.
“Hail the feast and the generous feast-givers!” Gnissa shouted.
“Hail!” was the thunderous response from all present.
“Today we are gathered, as you know, to honor the new son of the house and witness his naming.”
Heavy fists thumped on wooden tables and more cheers broke out. Gridhr, grinning, obeyed a gesture from Svadhi beckoning her forward from her seat. Now that the moment had arrived, she felt rather self-conscious, but enjoyed her role, nonetheless. Svadhi and Simul rose also, Svadhi holding his son in his arms.
“Good friends and kinfolk,” Svadhi began loudly, “we are very glad to see you all here. We have…” At this point the baby decided he didn’t care for his father’s loud voice in his ear, and began to bawl. Svadhi spoke louder, over the din. “As I was saying, we have asked our good friend Gridhr, daughter of Aurnir and Eisurfala, to stand as name-mother to our son and bestow his name on him.”
The youngster’s crying grew louder and his face grew red; assuredly he had been born with powerful lungs. Giving up, Svadhi handed him over to his mother, who put him to her breast, producing instant, contented silence.
Grinning, Svadhi resumed his speech. “As some of you may know, Gridhr is a seeress, young but showing much promise. This is not surprising, considering the skill of her foster-mother and teacher, Hala.” Here, Svadhi nodded to Hala in courtesy. “Though there are a number of ways of gaining a name for a new child, we have decided to ask Gridhr to seek his name as a seeress. Thus, I ask Gridhr now to seat herself upon our high seat, and seek a lucky name and good rede for our son from the paths of wisdom that she walks.”
Gridhr trembled a little in trepidation as she walked toward the seat. Though she had done soul-working a good deal on her own, and in the company of her teacher and close friends, she had never done such work in public before. Though seldom nervous, she certainly felt so now.
What if nothing happens? she thought to herself. What if I find no name and no rede? What a disgrace that would be, and bring bad luck on the child and my friends. She felt cold at the thought.
Hala waited for her beside the chair, holding a dark shawl that she draped over Gridhr’s face once she was seated. Gridhr forced herself not to clutch the arms of the seat, trying to relax and concentrate. Suddenly she felt a heavy, warm little body lean against her leg, and realized it was the child Hadda, who had a great fondness for her. Smiling to herself, Gridhr reached unobtrusively under the fringe of her shawl to pat Hadda’s firm little shoulder, and felt calmer after that. Gridhr was surprised at the warmth and energy she felt coming from that small body, and wondered momentarily whether Hadda, too, had the skills of a seeress. But there was no time to wonder, now, nor to allow her mind to wander and her fears to rise.
Think of my name-child, Gridhr told herself, just the child himself, nothing else. I seek for his sake, not for myself. Let myself go, fill my mind with him…..
These thoughts brought Gridhr toward a better frame of mind for soul-faring, and coincided with the chanting song that Hala began and that was filled out by several other voices, including the skalds. Riding on the wings of the familiar song, Gridhr felt her soul-skin leave her body and set out with energy to seek her goal.
It seemed to her that very little time had passed, before she returned with the answers she sought. Apparently, she had not needed to worry about her ability to carry out her task, she thought with relief. Pushing the shawl back from her face, Gridhr gestured for the sleepy baby to be brought to her. Holding him proudly, she spoke her rede in the formal manner.
“Thy name is Hrolfr, little one, she announced, “a name of strength and renown. Thou wilt bear thy name with pride and bring honor to thy kin. Thou and thy sister both will travel far in your lives, and you two will wed two siblings of the Frost Giants, the Hrimthursar. Hrolfr will marry Goi, and Hadda will wed Goi’s brother Norr, the children of Thorri and Herkja. Both your marriages will be good ones. But the times you both live in will be strange, and filled with many dangers; the good things in your lives will not come easily. Now I am done.”
But it seemed she was not quite done. Before anyone could move, there came a great growling roar from the forest outside that surrounded the steading. Three times the roar resounded, then silence fell.
“A bear!” exclaimed Svadhi. “A bear has called out to our son! This is indeed a good omen; surely he will be a strong Jotunn and a courageous warrior.”
Cheers rose from the guests, and several of the younger warriors beat drum-rolls on their shields in celebration. Gridhr, her eyes closed as she caught the tail-end of her vision, saw her own big, brown spirit-bear tower up on his hind legs, fore-paws dangling, giving her a large, toothy bear-grin before dropping to all fours and ambling out of sight. Grinning herself, Gridhr whispered ‘hail!’ and thanks to her well-furred friend, and resolved to put out an offering of food for him as soon as she had a free moment.
Gridhr spoke to the baby’s parents. “It seems, my friends, that the bear has chosen to befriend your son, just as he has befriended me….though I think Hrolfr’s friend is a she-bear. You could not ask for a better protector and guide for him!”
Gridhr felt the accustomed wave of tiredness roll over her as she finished her formal speaking, though her spirit was euphoric. She was glad enough to hand the baby back to his beaming parents and step down from the high seat, but there was one more important deed awaiting her. Stepping to the dark corner of the hall behind the dais, she pulled out the carved chest she had made and presented it to her name-son with a kiss and words of good luck. Then Gridhr resumed her own seat, accepting the horn of mead that little Hadda painstakingly brought her, glad to fade into the background as the other guests came forward with gifts for the baby and his kin.
“Auntie Gridhr!” There was a tugging at Gridhr’s gown, and an eager whisper in her ear among the cacaphony of other voices.
“What is it, dearling?” Gridhr responded to Hadda.
“I have a beast-friend, too! Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t, Hadda, but I am glad to hear it. Who is your friend?” As Gridhr looked at Hadda, though, she saw there was no need for the answer that Hadda was chattering at her. Clearly Gridhr saw a shadow standing next to Hadda: a large, dark, hairy aurochs, a wild bovine the size of a bison, with an enormous spread of horns. Looking at the two, child and beast, Gridhr saw some resemblance in the intense, dark eyes and dark hair they both bore, Hadda’s hair as rumpled as the aurochs’ curly pelt, after all her activity and excitement. Under her childish plumpness, her bones were heavy and strong, like those of the aurochs.
Indeed, thought Gridhr, this is a child to be watched; the aurochs is a fierce and powerful beast who roams far afield. No wonder I foresaw far travel for this child. But….that is for tomorrow. Pulling the little girl up onto her lap, Gridhr enjoyed the feeling of holding her, and drifted off into a happy daydream of her own children to come. Strange and strong wyrds they might all have, these younglings, far away in distant lands and other worlds. But for a few years, at least, they would be hers to hold and love. It would have to be enough.
On her way home, Gridhr several times saw the shadow of a great falcon passing over her, though looking up, she could see nothing. Strangely enough, the falcon’s shadow was warmer than the pale, early-spring sunlight, filling her with strength and a sense of blessing.
And far away in Asgard a tall Goddess stepped down from Hlidskjalf, the seat of seeing, that she shared with her husband Odin. A smile was upon her lips, but a tinge of sadness in her eyes.