Icefall by Matthew J. Kirby Page B

finally, the dwarves made Mjollnir, mountain-breaker and bone-crusher, the war hammer of Thor. Never would it fail its wielder, whether swung or thrown; a fearsome weapon to sway the tide of any battle. Now, when the gods received these gifts, they deemed them worthy, and more than that, thefinest they had ever received. And so it seemed at first that Loki had lost his wager, and …” I pause.
     
    Some in the audience lean forward.
     
    “… almost lost his head. But clever Loki had planned this all along and said, ‘My neck was not included in the wager. You may have my head if you can take it without harming the place where it rests.’ And the dwarves realized they had been tricked, and in their vanity, they had freely given to the gods the three greatest treasures in all the world.”
     
    I bow my head, and after an endless moment of silence, I hear applause. I look up, right at Harald. He is smiling, bright again, my little warrior once more. Everyone else is grinning, too, and nodding. It seems my story, short and simple, did what it was meant to do and lightened the mood.
     
    I don’t want to look at Alric. He will be furious with me. I changed the story and finished it without leaving anything for him. But I can’t avoid him, and when I see him, he is clapping, too.
     
    I hold up my hand to silence the hall and everyone grows quiet. “Thank you,” I say. “But now, Alric has a story to tell.”
     
    “Nay,” Alric says. “I would not want to sully the air after you’ve just cleared it so thoroughly.”
     
    It humbles me that he would leave my tale as the last for the evening. Before long, the warriors are settling down on the floor and benches to sleep. I get up, yawn, and move toward my bedcloset. Before I reach it, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
     
    “I must have a word,” Alric says.
     
    “I’m sorry I switched —” But he silences me with a finger to his lips.
     
    “I am not angry,” he says. “You saw what the steading truly needed. Tomorrow, you must tell me
how
you saw it.”
     
    “I don’t know that I can explain it.”
     
    “Tomorrow, you will try. Good night, Solveig.”
     
    “Good night,” I say. Alric leaves, and I look down at Muninn in his cage by the bedcloset. I check his food and find he still has some cabbage and barley grains he hasn’t eaten. I whisper a good night to him and climb into bed.
     
    Asa is already there. As soon as I see her, the image of her and Per in the forest enters my mind. The memory drains away the excitement of the evening as a cold bed draws out a body’s heat. I lie there, not knowing how to act toward her.
     
    “I enjoyed your story,” she says, as if nothing has changed between us when every thing has. I wonder how she can’t see it, even as I know there’s no way she could.
     
    “Thank you,” I whisper.
     
    Should I tell her that I know about her feelings for Per? That I saw them together? What would she say? How would she feel?
     
    “I haven’t heard that story in years,” she says. “It brought back good memories.”
     
    “I’m glad.”
     
    “Of when we were children.”
     
    “Yes.”
     
    “It was better then, wasn’t it?”
     
    “When we were children?”
     
    “Mm. No one expects anything from a child, not really. Respect or even fear, and that is all anyone requires of them. Not like the demands of womanhood.”
     
    At first I am angry, and find it hard to summon any of my earlier sympathy for her. It sounds as though she’s complaining about being beautiful, the demands of being desirable. Does she not realize how I envy her? But she may have to marry one man when she is in love with another. Father would never wed her to one of his warriors, even one so highly regarded as Per. Per would bring nothing to the union, no advantage for my father’s coffers, lands, or armies.
     
    How must it be to love someone and know that you can never be with them? Perhaps her guilt over this war is not the only