Winifred Hodge Rose
(This is a chapter in my serial novel, Gridhr Jotun-Kin. Click on that title above, in the menu bar, and you will see a list of previous chapters, beginning with the Prologue.)
The touch across her forehead was light as a feather, as a whisper. Gridhr stirred in her sleep and sighed. Again the touch came–soft, compelling. Gridhr opened her eyes to darkness in the dead of night, only a faint glow coming from the last dying embers of her fire. She felt the gentle touch again on her brow, and a darker shadow crossed her sight as though cast by an arm reaching toward her. Gridhr sat up, throwing off the furs that covered her, and called out “Who is there?”
Soft laughter echoed through the cave, though Gridhr saw no one there. “Gridhr, this is Sveipinfalda, your grandmother.” The voice was blurred and distant, as though the speaker was muffled in wool.
“Grandmother? Where are you?”
“In my home, Gridhr. I am calling to you. It is time for you to come to me now.”
Gridhr felt a surge of excitement. “How shall I find you, Grandmother?” she asked eagerly. She listened intently, eyes closed in concentration, as Sveipinfalda gave her directions for her travel.
“There is no need to hurry, my child,” Sveipinfalda told her. “But neither should you dawdle. See and learn while you walk the road to me, but do not linger overlong. It would be well for you to reach the shelter of my home before you are too big with child. This is a wild corner of the world, and wights roam these forests that would challenge even your size and strength. Your babes must not be put at risk.”
“I understand, Grandmother. Is Skadhi to travel with me, too?”
“Yes, indeed! Even now, her mother Ividja calls to her. When you have set all in order for your leaving, then go to her at Thrymheim–it is on your way. The two of you will fare here together.”
Gridhr felt the presence of her grandmother withdraw from her, and sat staring into the fire, too excited now to sleep. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the preparations she must make before her journey. But shortly sleep stole upon her again, as she realized she could not begin her work now, in the middle of the night. She drew the warm furs over her shoulders, dozing, and was surprised to be awakened by the dawn rays falling through the door onto her face.
After tallying up her closer relatives on her fingers, it seemed to Gridhr that she should approach her young cousin Hafli about caring for her homestead while she was gone. He was old enough now to want some time away from home, but not yet old enough to fare out alone into strange lands, as Jotnar were wont to do in young adulthood. He liked animals, and his kinfolk were not too far away to be called upon if he needed them while he tended her home and flock. And he would be glad to get her payment of enough sheep to begin his own small flock, once he returned from his coming-of-age farings. Hafli had the makings of a good shepherd in him, which was one of the reasons Gridhr liked him.
Travel to the stead of Hafli’s family, a friendly visit with them, and accomplishing the agreement as she envisioned, took up the next week of Gridhr’s time. When she returned home, she brought young Hafli with her to acquaint him with his new tasks before she had to leave. All went smoothly, and her final preparations took only a few days. Before she knew it, she stood at the threshold of her cave, bag on her back and staff in her hand, naught more holding her to her home.
At this last minute, it pained her to leave it. She took a long look around at her cozy cave, filled with comforts that she had made or contrived. Even the walls were covered with earth-colored drawings she had made: charms and dreams, spells and records of her farings through the worlds. Everything bore her fingerprint on it. Her eyes fell then upon young Hafli, standing there half in trepidation and half impatient for her leaving. Even he bore the mark of her, of kinship with her, in the features of his face. Now she would fare out, far from all she knew. Gridhr knew she would miss her home, her animals and her livelihood, all the time she was gone.
But the time had come, and she must set out. Grasping her staff, she stepped forward briskly, and looked back only once to wave at her cousin from the edge of her steading. He stood in the doorway of the cave, already with the look of a householder in his spread legs and arms crossed over his chest, a sense of protective possession in his stance. Gridhr smiled to herself; she had made the right choice, she thought.
Full spring was upon them now–a cold northern spring, scented with new, wet greenness mixed with snow-scent from the taller peaks. Birds called to their mates and newly-woken animals bustled about their hungry business. Tiny, delicate wildflowers peered from every sheltered cranny, and dotted the sweet meadows on the hillsides. Gridhr took it all in with pleasure, feeling within herself, as well, new life answering to spring’s urgent call. Vigorously she strode, her long legs eating the miles, while her thoughts roamed forward in anticipation of the unknown adventures awaiting her.
While she was still many miles off, Gridhr could see the striking crag of Thrymheim dominating the landscape ahead of her, home of the sorcerer-giant Thjazi and his daughter Skadhi. The name Thrymheim was well-earned: the wind thrummed and thundered through the strange rock formations on the crag, seldom silent, speaking in many tongues about the unquiet dreams of stones. Skadhi loved that sound, Gridhr knew–often she spoke longingly of it after she had roamed far afield in her huntress-wanderings. Always, Skadhi had told her, those strange, thrumming echoes called her homeward, speaking in her dreams and in her waking. The howls of her beloved wolves under the full moon echoed the song of Thrymheim and kept it fresh in her heart.
These thoughts passed through her mind as Gridhr approached the mighty crag. It was only mid-afternoon, yet already Thrymheim’s long shadow marked the landscape for many miles before it. Gridhr walked into the shadow and the hidden setting of the sun, up to the foot of the crag. She decided to sleep there and wait until morning to scale the crag. The beauty of the crystalline rocks and the deep blue pool sheltered in a hollow at its peak, all glittering in the rays of the rising sun, was not a sight to be missed by climbing in the dark. At peace with herself and the world, Gridhr made a nest out of the unpinned rectangle of her gown under a spreading pine, and drifted to sleep in the resin-scented darkness. All night the singing of Thrymheim, muffled by the pines but still audible, marked her dreams with its wild beauty.
Gridhr was up with the first signs of dawn, climbing steep Thrymheim. As she rose up its height, the sun rose with her, bringing out gleams and flashes of rose and blue, gold and silver from the veins within the rock. Little grew there, except in small hidden crannies where rare wildflowers nestled unseen from below, lifting their faces to bright Sunna in timid splendor. A wave of exhilaration lifted Gridhr from height to height, moved by the rare beauty and bone-deep song of rock and wind that surrounded her. In a time outside of time she climbed, and knew not what she did, only that she was surrounded by beauty and power that held her in their clutch. It was no wonder, Gridhr thought, that Skadhi–roaming huntress that she was–could not stay for long away from this place of magic. And no wonder that a powerful, reclusive sorcerer like Thjazi would take such a place for his own, and hold it with a grip of iron.
Gridhr reached the peak of Thrymheim close to noon, and stood staring down into the shallow bowl shaped inside the crown of the peak, filled with a deep blue pool of water. Above the pool, flanking the pinnacle opposite her, a huge eagle hovered close over the water, hunting for fish. As Gridhr’s shadow fell across the edge of the pool, the eagle spied her and cried out sharply. Banking away from the pool, it landed near Gridhr, and in a blur and shimmer transformed into the large, powerful form of Thjazi Shapeshifter. Leaving his eagle-feather cloak on the grassy bank, he strode up the slope toward Gridhr, peering sharply at her under massive, hairy brows.
As he neared, he recognized her and called out. “Gridhr! Skadhi told me you would soon arrive. I see you are well, as are the small, strong ones you bear within you.”
There was seldom any point trying to hide anything from Thjazi, Gridhr reflected, not for the first time. During her childhood, there had been no one she less wanted to encounter when she was up to mischief, than her insightful uncle and her aunt Ividja, both of whom could see through a rock wall, she was convinced.
Gridhr smiled and stepped forward, greeting her uncle courteously. He led her toward their hall, a complex edifice that was made up of elaborate cave-warrens toward the back, and a tall wooden long-hall toward the front. “Skadhi is out on a hunting trip at the moment,” her father told Gridhr. “I expect her back this evening. In the meantime, please come within and make yourself at home.”
As they approached the hall, a dignified servant, a Man-Kin thrall, came out to greet her and lead her inside with offers of refreshment. Thjazi bade Gridhr farewell for the moment, saying that he wanted to return to his fishing since he had a desire for such fare at dinner that evening.
Gridhr took the thick wedge of bread and meat and the wooden beaker of ale given her by the thrall, and sat outside Thjazi’s hall on a wooden bench, munching in contented silence. She watched Thjazi, back in his eagle form again, hover huge and graceful on the wind, tilting slightly every now and then to rebalance himself. Sunlight glittered off the tiny wind-ruffled wavelets of the lake, flashing in her eyes and making her sleepy. She wondered how Thjazi could see through the glittering surface of the water, down to where there were fishes floating. And wondered why he fished now, at that time. It was still too early for the evening rising-up of the fish to catch sunset-mazed insects dancing their last dances above the gold-tinged waters. But she supposed Thjazi must know what he was doing; he had lived there, and lived well, for longer than Gridhr could tell.
Gridhr started awake out of her nap as she felt her shoulder shaken in a friendly grip, and looked up to see the icy-fair features of her friend and cousin Skadhi smiling down at her.
“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Skadhi teased. “Little did I expect to find you fast asleep on my doorstep, cousin!”
Gridhr grinned. “Indeed I don’t know why I fell asleep; I didn’t even know I was sleepy. But weren’t you expecting to see me now? I would have thought you would know I was on my way.”
“Yes, I was expecting you–my mother spoke of your coming when she called to me some days ago. I just wasn’t expecting you snoring at my door, that’s all!”
“Perhaps it is the children within me who make me sleepy, or perhaps all the busyness of the past weeks as I got ready to go. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Did Thjazi catch his fish?”
“That he did–a fine big pike. It’s roasting now–can’t you smell it?”
Now that Skadhi mentioned it, Gridhr did smell the roasting fish, and her stomach growled in anticipation.
As they walked into the long-hall toward the table being spread for dinner, Skadhi said, “The children within you? You said they made you sleepy……tell me about this, Gridhr!”
Gridhr, startled, realized that she had had no opportunity to tell Skadhi of the amazing events that had culminated in her coming motherhood. A warm smile spread over her face, and her cheeks flushed, as she answered Skadhi. “There is much to tell you, cousin. Let’s wait until we are seated, and I will begin. Perhaps your father will want to hear as well, though I know by his greeting to me that he is already aware of the children. But I will be surprised if even he has any idea of how they were conceived!”
Skadhi looked curiously at her but pressed her no more as they approached the table and took their seats. The last light of the ruddy sun shone through the doorway, reflecting the red gleam in the firepit that ran down the center of the long-hall. Torches flickered in their brackets on the house-pillars and candles glowed on the table, showing tempting fare that included the big roast fish, cheese, a porridge made of barley with onions, garlic and dried herbs, and a bowl of nuts and dried fruits–plums and apples. A bowl of honey, warmed to dissolve the sugary crystals of its winter aging, stood near the nuts and fruit. Skadhi dipped horns of ale from the barrel near the table for her father, her guest, and herself, and they drained their horns as Thjazi spoke the householder’s words of welcome. After that they eagerly began their meal.
As they ate, Gridhr related the strange tale of her children’s conception. Though Skadhi’s face lit with intent interest in the tale, Thjazi’s visage turned grim.
“Odin, eh?” Thjazi remarked as he heard the tale, glowering. “That Ase…..he seems to mix himself up in all sorts of things. You’d think he’d leave the Jotnar alone, at least, but no–if it isn’t one thing with him, it’s another. Now it’s yet another child. Thor and Baldr and the rest are not enough for him, it seems. Huh!” Thjazi grunted as he took another gargantuan bite of the pike, and continued speaking with a full mouth. “Prolific sort of fellow, he is. There is something about them, there in Asgard–something….” He shook his head musingly as he popped the white eyeball of the pike, a favored delicacy, into his mouth and crunched it.
“Something…….what do you mean, father?” asked Skadhi, while Gridhr listened curiously for the answer.
Thjazi looked at the two giantesses for a moment, their faces glowing in the red light of the fire. “What shall I say, daughter? There is something that the Æsir have–a power……the power of life itself.”
“The power of life, father? How so? I mean, how do they have more of such power than the other races? All of us have life, and strength and vigor, too.”
“Yes, we do. But it ends for us, does it not?”
“It does end, of course, though not for many, many years, for most of us.”
“And we age,” Thjazi growled. “We age, we grow old as death nears us. Grey, wrinkled, bent, our strength leaves us…..”
“True enough, father. This disturbs you, then? But surely it is the course of nature, for it to be so?”
“Why, then, is it not so for the Æsir, eh?” Thjazi questioned rancorously. “Why do they not age and die like the rest of us?”
Skadhi looked at him, startled, as Gridhr also felt. “I don’t know…..I hadn’t thought. Odin himself shows some signs of age, and some of the others do, too.”
“Not truly, girl,” Thjazi said, his eyes dark under their heavy brows. “Yes, his hair is grizzled, and his face somewhat lined. And his wife, too, wears often the silver hair of age. But these are simply their seemings, no more than that. They choose to appear in that way. In the power of their innermost beings, there are none of the weaknesses, the losses that come with age. They have gained the wisdom and knowledge of age, but lost nothing, given nothing, in return.” Thjazi toyed idly with his knife, then stabbed it suddenly into the wooden table with a grimace.
Gridhr felt uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. She had never given any particular thought to the matter of aging, unconsciously simply accepting it as a part of life that came about in due course of time. It had never occurred to her to question this, nor to seek to escape it. She finished her food in silence, feeling constraint settle over the table. As the meal wound down, Thjazi sat musing, staring into the dark corner of the hall while absently crunching handfuls of nuts and dried fruits whole–shells, pits and all–and swallowing them with an audible gulp.
Suddenly, Gridhr felt a chill brush the nape of her neck. There, in the dark corner where Thjazi was staring, a shimmering, ghostly form appeared, suffused with a faint golden glow. The form was that of a fair, slender woman, her head bent downward and her long golden hair, fastened only by a band about her brow, falling forward over most of her face. Her attention was fixed on something she held in the crook of her arm, which Gridhr could not see clearly. It looked like a wooden box.
Gridhr glanced at Skadhi, and saw that she too had seen the apparition. Both Jotunn-wives looked questioningly at Thjazi, and he, feeling the force of their attention, returned their look with a grin of wry satisfaction.
“That, my girls, is why the Æsir do not age,” he told them.
Gridhr and Skadhi were both puzzled by this pronouncement. “How so, uncle?” asked Gridhr when her cousin sat silent.
“This is the image of Idunn, who nurtures the Æsir with her holy apples. Each day she gathers the apples into that wooden casket she holds–exactly as many as the tally of the Æsir–and gives them to her friends. These apples ward off the ravages of age, and the Æsir remain hale, full of the strength and health of youth. I believe that no one, even among the Æsir, knows where she gathers the apples. Or perhaps they are ordinary apples, that she changes through some power of her own…..” Thjazi rubbed his bristled chin in thought.
“How do you know this, father?” asked Skadhi. “This–about Idunn and her apples–is not something that is generally known, I think.”
“You’re right that it is not generally known, although those among us who have lived long begin to suspect something, of course, when we see the agelessness of the Æsir. But it is the truth, as I have found through my sorcery, and that is all I will say about it for now.” Thjazi’s face, darkly shadowed, was closed to them as he turned away. Slowly, the glowing image of Idunn shredded into wisps of faint light, then faded away.
Gridhr realized that Thjazi wished no more talk, but could not resist asking him a last question. “Uncle, how did you show us her image like that? I know how to see and use my other senses, when I walk the strange worlds that seidhcraft leads me to. But then, as I understand, part of my soul is truly there, seeing things that truly are where and as I see them. But I have never seen this–an image cast like that, into this waking world where we sit, that in truth is not really here. What kind of craft is this that you showed us?”
Thjazi grunted and turned his massive, hairy head toward her. “You’re interested in that, are you, Gridhr? Yes, I see that you are. This is another aspect of the seidhcraft you practice, but it is difficult and little-known. You know that, through seidhcraft, people’s Hugr-souls can be affected? And their Hug-hams, the shape that their Hugr-souls can take on, when traveling outside their body? Yes. Well, this is something like that, except instead of affecting the person’s real Hug-ham, here we create an active image of that soul for a short while, and sometimes it can tell us something about the nature and activities of the person. Especially when we know the person well.”
Thjazi’s face darkened again, as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the pillar. Gridhr was interested and filled with more questions, but she sensed that it was time to leave Thjazi to himself. The great, moody giant, simmering with power, had always somewhat intimidated Gridhr as a child, and even now she felt no wish to trespass against his somber mood. Skadhi’s hand, tugging at her shoulder, told her nothing she did not already know. Gridhr and Skadhi walked out of the dim-lit long-hall, leaving the dark-haired giant to his solitary musings. As Gridhr left, she heard behind her a steady thunking sound: Thjazi was casting his knife, again and again, point-downward into the hard-packed earthen floor of the hall, and the mask of his face was grim.
The strangeness of the night before with her grim host was dispelled for Gridhr the next morning, when she woke to a fair dawn sending its rays through the doorway of the small cave where she lay. Skadhi, knowing her tastes, had lodged Gridhr in one of the guest rooms of the large warren of cave-workings that butted onto the wooden long-hall, rather than putting her to sleep in a stuffy alcove of the long-hall as Man-Kin folk would have preferred. From where she lay, Gridhr could see through the narrow entrance of the cave, looking out and down to the shimmering of dawn light on the blue waters of the pool. This morning the air over it was empty; perhaps Thjazi had sated his appetite for fish, for the moment.
Gridhr smiled to herself and rolled over, poking her feet out of the warm pile of pelts where she had nested. The thought of fish awoke her appetite, which seemed to be growing daily as the children within her took on greater substance. Though all seemed quiet, surely some thrall would be stirring now, who could serve her with breakfast. Gridhr got up to look for one.
Wandering through the cave-warrens, Gridhr came upon the kitchen cave, close to the entrance of the long-hall. Through the long-hall doorway, she could hear the voice of Skadhi, giving instructions for the daily tasks of the thralls. Gridhr stuck her head through the doorway and caught the eye of her cousin.
“Hail, Gridhr! A fine day, is it not? Even though there is no snow……but there are other joys in the world besides skiing on fresh snow in the moonlight–at least, so I am told!” Skadhi’s ice-blue eyes twinkled as she poked fun at her own strong preference for wild and snowy weather, while Gridhr’s hazel eyes reflected her cousin’s sense of fun.
“The day looks fine to me,” Gridhr remarked as she seated herself at the table, “and this table here looks even more fine!”
Gridhr’s eyes lit up as she caught sight of the luscious treat sitting there: a bowl of fresh sheep’s milk–the first of the season. Many months had passed since anyone had tasted fresh milk, and at the sight of it, it seemed to Gridhr that her whole being became nothing but one great craving for the rich drink. It was all she could do, not to grab the bowl and guzzle it all herself. Instead, she accepted politely the generous mug that Skadhi dipped into the bowl and handed, dripping, to her. Savoring the scent and taste, and the smooth, warm feel of it in her mouth, Gridhr made the treat last as long as she could. She sighed in contentment, but also in longing, as she set her empty mug down.
Skadhi smiled in understanding, and dipped her another mug full, though the milk in the bowl was now low. Gridhr felt rather shamefaced about accepting it, until Skadhi said, “Take it, my dear. You need it, as I can clearly see.” Gridhr put aside her polite hesitation, and gave herself over to full enjoyment of her treat.
The rest of the morning was spent as delightfully, in Gridhr’s view. The two Jotunn-wives strolled to the icy blue pool and waded into it after breakfast, floating on their backs as they watched bright Sunna rise higher above the surrounding pinnacles. Gridhr felt as if she were on an island in the sky: blue pool reflecting blue sky, surrounded only by the serrated circle of crystalline rocks that enclosed her whole horizon. The thrumming of the wind, though never absent in this high place, was gentle now in the morning silence. The water riffled slightly against her floating flanks. For all Gridhr knew, the rest of the world did not even exist: there was only this enclosed island of beauty and peace. The morning passed while they took their ease in the water, floating and swimming, splashing and playing like seals.
“It’s a good thing, Skadhi, that your father seems to have no longing for fish today. All this splashing would certainly chase them out of his reach,” Gridhr smiled as they finally headed toward shore and lay down on the green grass to dry in the sunlight.
“Yes, that’s true…..” Skadhi’s smile faded, though, as she thought of her father, and she laid her head down on her crossed arms with a sigh. “I worry about him, Gridhr. He’s always been moody, of course, but now there is a different, grimmer feel to his moods. And my mother has been gone so long. If she were here, perhaps she would know how to draw him out of them. I don’t seem able to do that; I am too like him, myself. Last night he was out, roaming with the wolves, and I do not think he has returned yet. I know what that is like, myself; it’s hard to separate yourself from the wolves and return to everyday life. Especially when there are burdens on your heart.”
“Have you spoken of this to your mother, Skadhi, when she has visited you in the spaefarings?”
“No…..the time with her has been so short, and there are so many things to speak of. And it’s hard to remember everything you wish to remember, when you are soul-faring–you know how it is.”
Gridhr did know; again and again she had regretted failing to ask or seek answers to questions she had had in her mind when she started. Somehow, much of her conscious mind seemed to be left behind when she fared, and it was hard to keep many things in her awareness when she was in that state. She thought about what advice or comfort she could offer to her friend, but nothing came to her. Thjazi was so different from her own foster-mother, the one who had raised her, that her experience did not prepare her to help with a person of Thjazi’s ilk.
“Well, when we see your mother in person, I will help you speak with her and persuade her to intervene if she can, Skadhi.”
“Yes,” Skadhi sighed. “I can think of nothing else to do than that, myself. I hate to leave him alone now, while we fare on our journey, yet seeking my mother’s help is all that comes to mind. And I know we must fare to their calling–Ividja’s and Sveipinfalda’s–regardless.”
“Indeed, there is no question about that, Skadhi. When will you be ready to go, do you think?”
“Oh, it won’t take me long at all to get ready–it never does. I just thought it would be good to give you a little visit here, before we go.”
“Yes, I am glad of it,” Gridhr answered honestly. Besides the wild beauty of Thrymheim that she loved, Gridhr found her uncle interesting in spite of his moods and his grimness. He was a wise Jotunn who knew much lore and craft, and saw deeply into things. She wished he would share more of his knowledge with her. Perhaps, after running with the wolves, his heart would be in be in better frame tonight, and she could ask him more questions. She would not bring up Odin again, though–that would be sure to set him off!
As matters turned out, it was Thjazi and not Gridhr who again brought up the subject of Odin. Thrymheim’s master reappeared later that day, and evening found him at his seat in the long-hall, awaiting his dinner. As the three of them ate together, Thjazi queried Gridhr again about her children-to-be.
“You bear within you a daughter, as well as Odin’s son, Gridhr,” Thjazi said, looking piercingly at her from under his shelving brows. “Tell us again how it was, that she came into being.”
Gridhr obediently recounted her experience, omitting nothing, while Thjazi listened intently. When she had finished, he continued to gaze at her, his eyes slightly unfocused. Gridhr wondered what he was perceiving.
“So she is the child of three: Frigg and Odin and you. Hmmm….” Thjazi leaned back against the great house-pillar behind his bench with a deep sigh, crossing his arms. The flickering flame of the torch fixed to the pillar above him painted strange, writhing patterns on his massive chest, leaving his face in shadow. “And her name is Vor–Aware. Have you thought much on this, Gridhr–on the meaning of her name?”
Gridhr was not sure what answer her uncle was seeking, and responded hesitantly. “I have thought about it, yes…..but perhaps I have not seen what you have seen in it, uncle. Please tell me your thoughts.”
A flash of impatience crossed his face, but he answered her mildly. “Think, then, of the minds of this child’s other parents. But perhaps you don’t know much about them, girl—perhaps even not about your own mind.” He glanced piercingly at her. “Yes….there is so much yet unwritten in the pathways of your mind. You are very young. But your mind is one that seeks eagerly, as you seek even my own wisdom, do you not?”
Gridhr, somewhat embarrassed, nodded mutely, while her uncle flashed her a wry grin that did not lighten the darkness of his eyes.
“You have not the impassioned drive toward knowledge that Odin has, and yet knowledge draws you, and you seek awareness of the unknown. And you do not have Frigg’s inborn wisdom, shaped from the strands of wyrd itself. Yet you–as she does–have the inborn knowledge of where to seek for wisdom, and how to weave the drifting strands of knowledge together into a whole.” He paused, and then remarked, “But you don’t know you know that, do you? Nor will you know it, for a long time to come.”
Gridhr shook her head, deeply confused. Thjazi waded now in waters too deep for her to follow. She wondered how he knew so much about Frigg and Odin, and about herself, but did not dare ask.
“So, uncle, you are saying that my daughter has–will have–this kind of mind, as well? That her name shows her nature and her skill?”
“At the very least, Gridhr: yes. I sense that her mind will go deeper than any of us can see. And I wonder…I wonder about her, and very much I wonder about Frigg’s reasons and her need, in bringing this child into being. What does Frigg see, that she does not tell? And if this child is Frigg’s answer, I truly wonder: what is the question to which Vor is the answer?”
It had not occurred to Gridhr to think along these lines; to her, her children were her children, not abstract answers to unknown questions. She felt a sense of disorientation, of unfamiliarity standing on what she had thought was solid ground, as she tried to turn her mind toward the different perspective that Thjazi showed her. She felt as she had, right after Odin had left her steading: strange and unknown to herself, full of questions with no answers. Though she herself did not think of her children as answers to questions, she had the sense that on some level, Thjazi was on the right track. These children were not ordinary ones, conceived in ordinary ways: many strange strands had gone into their weaving. She would be the first to admit that she could not see nor understand the nature of all these strands.
Groping to follow Thjazi’s lead, Gridhr said, “It is more clear, perhaps, how Vidar is Odin’s answer, than it is how Vor is Frigg’s answer.”
“You’re right, I think,” responded Skadhi, entering the discussion. “It seems clear and straightforward enough, from what you have told us. Odin fathered Vidar in order to remove this fearsome Wolf from the world, and to avenge his death, as you saw in the Seeress’s vision that Odin called from her. Vidar–seen this way–is Odin’s answer to the world’s danger and to his own death.”
Thjazi nodded, but Gridhr pondered further. “Yet can it be, that Odin’s motives would ever be so simple and straightforward? Is that how he is?”
Thjazi acknowledged her words with a wry grin, though there was a disturbing darkness in his eyes. “You have a point there, girl. No one who knows anything of Odin should assume that what we see is all there is to be seen about his deeds. Surely Vidar is indeed his answer to danger and death, yet that may not be all there is to Vidar, in Odin’s mind. Not to mention what Vidar himself will grow into. These children of yours will have minds and hearts of their own….just like my own wayward daughter!”
Thjazi’s eyes, looking toward Skadhi, for once held no darkness but were filled with the light of love and pride. Between the two of them–Thjazi and Skadhi–stretched a bond of love as strong and tough as the fibers of wyrd itself. Looking on from the outside, Gridhr felt a pang of wistfulness. Even when he had been alive, she could not recall such a bond being woven between herself and her father Aurnir, though indeed he had loved her in his own way. But not like this. Glancing down to take her eyes off the scene, Gridhr noticed the faintest rounding of her belly, almost imperceptible as yet, and comforted herself by thinking of the love that would surely grow as strong between herself and her own children. As she thought this, she recalled her first sight of her son’s face in her vision, glowing from the spark of light on the point of a needle. She saw again in her memory his face looking into hers, filled with a bright love. Gridhr smiled, and was content.
The following morning was streaked with filmy clouds, veiling the brilliance of the crystal world hidden in the crags. Skadhi and Gridhr busied themselves preparing for their journey onward; soon there was naught left to be done. They shared Thjazi’s noontime meal of meat, bread and ale, then shouldered their small carry-sacks. Skadhi’s farewell to her father was full of veiled concern, but she kept her tone light, kissing his cheek briskly and admonishing him to take care of himself. He gave Skadhi his blessing, then extended it to Gridhr as well, which touched and pleased her.
“Tell your mother we miss her, Skadhi, when you see her,” Thjazi said.
Skadhi answered that indeed, she had much to say to her mother on the subject, and grinned at her father, who returned it as he waved them off.
“Go along now–don’t linger, or the day will be gone before you’re well off. Fare safely, and come to see me when you get back, Gridhr. I’ll be interested to meet those children of yours.”
When Gridhr looked back, halfway down the crag, she saw a great eagle far above, tilting his wings slightly as he rode the rising thermals, while the mountain wind whistled and thrummed in her ears.