Lesson 10 Needle and Thread

LESSON 10

Needle and Thread

Basically, never trust anyone.

Lokabrenna

I WAS FEELING QUIETLY CONFIDENT as we arrived in Odin’s hall. Sif was already waiting for me (her head still wrapped in a turban); Thor at her side like a thundercloud. Odin was watching from his throne, his one eye gleaming with anticipation. Heimdall was looking slightly put out – I guess he hadn’t expected me to make good my promise to return. And the goddesses – especially Sigyn, who had been making eyes at me since I arrived – were watching me expectantly, no doubt wondering whether I would manage to save the day once again.

Brokk, looking (and smelling) all the more repulsive for being in the daylight, stood at my side with his three gifts, with the golden boar Gullin-bursti growling at the end of his chain, and the hammer sticking out of his waistband.

‘Who’s this?’ said the Old Man.

Brokk said his piece and explained about our wager.

Odin raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, let’s see these gifts of yours,’ he said. ‘We’ll vote on their merit afterwards.’

I shrugged. ‘I think you’ll find—’ I began.

‘Let’s see them, Trickster,’ said Odin.

I presented my gifts. Brokk offered his. After what seemed like an unnecessarily lengthy interval, Odin gave his judgement.

‘Ivaldi’s sons have done well,’ he said. ‘Their work is quite remarkable.’

‘Isn’t it?’ I winked at Sif, who was already wearing her new head of hair. True to Dvalin’s promise, the hair extensions had bonded perfectly with Sif’s own hair, restoring her Goddess Aspect.

She gave me a grudging look. ‘It’s all right.’

‘And what about the spear?’ I said. ‘And the compass that turns into a ship . . .’

Odin nodded. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But Brokk’s gifts are also remarkable. The hammer, Mjølnir, especially.’

‘What? That little stubby thing?’

Odin gave a chilly smile. ‘It’s true, the handle’s a little short. But even so, it’s a magnificent piece, more impressive than my spear, or the Reaper’s runesword. And in Thor’s hands, it could mean the end of all our current defence issues.’

Thor was holding Mjølnir protectively in the crook of his arm. ‘I agree. Brokk wins.’

Odin turned to the other gods. ‘What do you think?’

Frey nodded. ‘I say Brokk.’

‘Heimdall?’

‘Brokk.’

‘Njörd?’

‘Brokk.’

‘Balder?’

Golden Boy sighed. ‘Oh, dear. Honestly, I’m afraid it’s Brokk.’

Aesir and Vanir, one by one, voted Brokk’s gifts the superior. All except Sif, who was plaiting her new hair, Idun, who didn’t like weapons, Bragi, who was already working on my death anthem and Sigyn, who was watching me with a disturbingly motherly look, as if at any moment she might be impelled to put a soothing hand on my forehead.

I was revolted. ‘Seriously?’

Odin shrugged. ‘I’m sorry. You lost.’

Brokk’s dark eyes lit up. ‘I win.’