I continued to feign puzzlement. ‘But where?’ I searched my person. Pockets, waistcoat, belt . . .

I paused. Dropped my gaze an inch or two.

Around me, expectant laughter.

I went on with my story. ‘So – I tethered the goat securely to the only suitable – ahem! – I could find.’ I demonstrated with the leash. Once more the little goat tugged on it.

‘Ouch!’

Thor’s big face went red with mirth.

‘Will you stop that!’ I yelped at the goat, yanking at the leash in my turn. Some fruit fell out of the basket. The goat danced nimbly towards it, dragging me along with it.

‘Ouch!’ More fruit fell out of the basket. I yelped. ‘Oww-oww! My plums! My plums!’

Now all the gods were laughing. Even the icy Skadi joined in. Turns out the one thing that could make her laugh was the sight of Yours Truly, tied by the balls to a nanny goat.

I only saw her laugh again once. As it happens, in tragic circumstances, at least for Your Humble Narrator. But that’s another story, one for a darker, colder day.

And so the Huntress joined our ranks – though not for long, as it turned out. She missed the snow of the far North, the howling of wolves and the icy wastes. As for Njörd, in spite of his wish to make a success of the marriage, he found that he was incapable of living so far from Asgard and his hall overlooking the One Sea, with the sound of the waves and the cries of birds and the soft clouds gathering overhead. And so they agreed to live apart, though Skadi was always welcome in Asgard, and would sometimes call round, in animal Aspect; an eagle or a white wolf or a snow leopard with ice-blue eyes.

I wasn’t sorry to see her go. My clowning around had saved me once, but there was a nasty look in those eyes. I suspected she was the kind to bear a grudge, which made me think that the further I got from her – and from that runewhip – the happier I was likely to be.

Turns out I was right, of course – but more of that later. For the moment, suffice it to say that though laughter may be the best medicine, there are some folk who can never be cured. Skadi was one, and Lord Surt was another – there is no laughter in Chaos, except for the desperate laughter of those imprisoned in Surt’s Black Fortress. But that was a lesson I had yet to learn. And of course, the more time I spent in this world of laughter, hate and revenge, the smaller my chances of ever returning to my primal state of grace . . .

Lesson 4 Love

LESSON 4

Love

Love is boring. Lovers, even more so.

Lokabrenna