silent for a moment, staring at Odin’s son like an estranged nephew. “You aren’t letting this mental case corrupt you, are you?”
Balder laughed. “No more than necessary.”
“You like fishing?”
“Sometimes.”
“When I get Mjollnir back, we should go.”
I added, “So long as it’s not out to sea, right, Thor?” I chuckled as I thought of a story Balder hadn’t heard. “Thor was out in a boat, and he wasn’t catching anything, so he hooks up this bull’s head for bait…”
“ Loki …” Thor warned.
I didn’t take any notice. “So he gets a bite and yanks the line, and Jor comes shooting out of the water with the line in his mouth.” I could hardly talk, as hard as I was laughing. “Thor just about wet himself!”
“I did not!” Thor protested. Then he looked to Balder and said, “Who’re you going to believe—me, or the report of some water serpent whose father has worse breath than he’s got?”
Now Balder was laughing so hard, that he almost made tears trying to stifle it.
Thor merely shook his head and grumbled, “Why Odin ever became your blood-brother, I’ll never know.”
“You may well ask the same of your friendship with me,” I quipped.
“I would stand against the greatest monster with you, but I would never spill my blood for you.” Turning to Balder, he said, “Did he ever tell you about the time we went to Jotunheim to see that clod Geirrod?”
Thor and I didn’t get around to our mission that day. We stayed at the alehouse long into the night, competing to tell the best story, of which Balder was the judge. We wrapped up the evening with a drinking contest—I only remember that Balder won, because he was incapable of getting drunk. When we woke up the next morning, both Thor and I had a different boot on each foot. Balder had to explain that, when our intoxication hit its peak, we told each other “I love you” and swapped left boots as a sign of best-friendship. Furthermore, the boots we swapped had cut locks of our hair in the toes. It was then that we had to tell Balder the golden rule: What happens in an alehouse dies in secret.
CHAPTER TEN: RETRIEVING MJOLLNIR
Thor and I weren’t sufficiently sober until the following afternoon. We clambered up to Asgard, where his wife Sif sorted through her gowns for a white one that could be altered to fit her husband. However, once the gown was chosen, she was forbidden to see him again until he returned with his hammer. Thor also had Tyr make sure no other Aesir could peer in on him as I helped him fit on the dress and veil. Once I stepped back to see my bearded comrade in the flowing white silk, I laughed until my knees couldn’t support me, and I fell to the ground. Freya herself isn’t the frailest or daintiest female, so to see the oak tree figure of Thor in white, his muscles and sinews almost tearing the fabric, his stern, blood-shot gaze surrounded by soft lace, the thought of him passing as a blushing bride was impossible—and hysterical. I didn’t stop laughing until the sole of his foot met my face with a strangling stench and a threat to bash my nose into my brain.
I do miss that brawny bastard sometimes.
Then I couldn’t get him to step outside. Tyr assured him fifty times over that he wouldn’t be seen by another Aesir, but Thor still wouldn’t budge.
“Get moving already!” I sighed. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’re done. If anyone laughs at you, I’ll put their name on a list, and you can pummel them when we get back.”
Then a smirk slowly sprouted from under his veil. “I’m not doing this alone, Loki.”
“I know; I’m going with you.”
“No, I mean a bride shouldn’t go to her wedding without a bridesmaid.”
I scoffed and shook my head wildly.
Balder laughed. “No more than necessary.”
“You like fishing?”
“Sometimes.”
“When I get Mjollnir back, we should go.”
I added, “So long as it’s not out to sea, right, Thor?” I chuckled as I thought of a story Balder hadn’t heard. “Thor was out in a boat, and he wasn’t catching anything, so he hooks up this bull’s head for bait…”
“ Loki …” Thor warned.
I didn’t take any notice. “So he gets a bite and yanks the line, and Jor comes shooting out of the water with the line in his mouth.” I could hardly talk, as hard as I was laughing. “Thor just about wet himself!”
“I did not!” Thor protested. Then he looked to Balder and said, “Who’re you going to believe—me, or the report of some water serpent whose father has worse breath than he’s got?”
Now Balder was laughing so hard, that he almost made tears trying to stifle it.
Thor merely shook his head and grumbled, “Why Odin ever became your blood-brother, I’ll never know.”
“You may well ask the same of your friendship with me,” I quipped.
“I would stand against the greatest monster with you, but I would never spill my blood for you.” Turning to Balder, he said, “Did he ever tell you about the time we went to Jotunheim to see that clod Geirrod?”
Thor and I didn’t get around to our mission that day. We stayed at the alehouse long into the night, competing to tell the best story, of which Balder was the judge. We wrapped up the evening with a drinking contest—I only remember that Balder won, because he was incapable of getting drunk. When we woke up the next morning, both Thor and I had a different boot on each foot. Balder had to explain that, when our intoxication hit its peak, we told each other “I love you” and swapped left boots as a sign of best-friendship. Furthermore, the boots we swapped had cut locks of our hair in the toes. It was then that we had to tell Balder the golden rule: What happens in an alehouse dies in secret.
CHAPTER TEN: RETRIEVING MJOLLNIR
Thor and I weren’t sufficiently sober until the following afternoon. We clambered up to Asgard, where his wife Sif sorted through her gowns for a white one that could be altered to fit her husband. However, once the gown was chosen, she was forbidden to see him again until he returned with his hammer. Thor also had Tyr make sure no other Aesir could peer in on him as I helped him fit on the dress and veil. Once I stepped back to see my bearded comrade in the flowing white silk, I laughed until my knees couldn’t support me, and I fell to the ground. Freya herself isn’t the frailest or daintiest female, so to see the oak tree figure of Thor in white, his muscles and sinews almost tearing the fabric, his stern, blood-shot gaze surrounded by soft lace, the thought of him passing as a blushing bride was impossible—and hysterical. I didn’t stop laughing until the sole of his foot met my face with a strangling stench and a threat to bash my nose into my brain.
I do miss that brawny bastard sometimes.
Then I couldn’t get him to step outside. Tyr assured him fifty times over that he wouldn’t be seen by another Aesir, but Thor still wouldn’t budge.
“Get moving already!” I sighed. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’re done. If anyone laughs at you, I’ll put their name on a list, and you can pummel them when we get back.”
Then a smirk slowly sprouted from under his veil. “I’m not doing this alone, Loki.”
“I know; I’m going with you.”
“No, I mean a bride shouldn’t go to her wedding without a bridesmaid.”
I scoffed and shook my head wildly.
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