“Oh no, you don’t! I’m just the plan master.”
“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”
Any protestations I could come up with fell on deaf ears. Between him and Tyr, I somehow found myself in a white spring dress with a flower garland on my head. Yeah, you think that’s funny, don’t you? But, hey, with my scrawny frame and clean-shaven face, I was awfully pretty. You should be grateful I didn’t cross-dress for our wedding; I would have pulled focus.
I was just kidding! Okay, so I deserved it, but that’s going to leave a mark…
So anyway, looking at Thor’s guise, I couldn’t help but think something was missing, some definitive feature that, despite his ogre shape, would convince the giant that this bride was Freya. Granted, Thrym wasn’t very bright, but with Thor looking like a net full of boulders, he needed all the help he could get. Then I realized what the perfect finishing touch would be: Freya’s necklace, Brising-whatever. Not only did that bauble catch people’s attention more than the goddess’s eyes, but it would be undeniable proof that the bride I presented was Freya.
Of course, there would be no convincing Freya to give it up. Because of the multiple infidelities she enacted to possess it, her husband left her. Not even that moved her to dump the thing in the Rhine. I knew I would have to borrow it discreetly—or in plain terms, steal it. On the one hand, it wouldn’t be too difficult: Since her husband left, she fell into the habit of hiding her depression by taking an afternoon nap. On the other hand: Heimdall, watch guard of Asgard, could hear my approach to her home and catch me in the act. That sneak could smell a fire before it burned, and could hear the flints strike from ten miles away. No wonder he passed as an Aesir so well. I would need to distract him somehow.
I struck a casual conversation with Tyr. Because of his respect for my son, I in turn respected him. I complimented his dexterity in changing sword arms with such ease, using his formerly dominant hand for a shield. I then segued into encouraging him to visit Fenrir again. I know he hadn’t since he was chained, but I assured him that my son had forgiven him and would appreciate the company. Not only did I believe in my words, but they worked to my purpose: As Tyr approached where Fenrir was chained, Heimdall’s attention was directly fixed to their meeting, wondering if the wolf would attack again. Now that the guard was distracted, I made my way to Freya’s home.
As I came close to where she slept, she stirred. I immediately formed into the likeness of her ever-distant husband Odur—she would have seen through my bridesmaid guise easily. Her eyes opened completely, and she smiled. It was…weird. She had never smiled at me before.
“My husband!” she sighed. “Do I dream, or have you finally returned to me?”
“This is just a dream.” I made my voice somewhat hypnotic.
Her smile diminished. “Why do you torture me with your image?”
“I am only here as a reminder: No matter how far I am from you, we have each other in our dreams.” It took all I could muster to not wince at such sentimentality.
“You are right, my love. But before I depart from this dream, let me have a kiss.”
I swallowed a laugh. After all, this did work toward my goal. Mind you, that’s all it was: a means to an end. So as I leaned in and touched my lips to hers, I carefully unfastened the necklace from her neck, hastily hiding it behind my back. As she had closed her eyes for the kiss, she slipped off back to sleep. Then I reverted back to myself in my bridesmaid costume and ran out as fast as I could.
I’m laughing because it was funny, not because I enjoyed it. And no, I’m not blushing—I don’t blush. Come on, it was all to help get Thor’s hammer back. Okay, fine;
“If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”
Any protestations I could come up with fell on deaf ears. Between him and Tyr, I somehow found myself in a white spring dress with a flower garland on my head. Yeah, you think that’s funny, don’t you? But, hey, with my scrawny frame and clean-shaven face, I was awfully pretty. You should be grateful I didn’t cross-dress for our wedding; I would have pulled focus.
I was just kidding! Okay, so I deserved it, but that’s going to leave a mark…
So anyway, looking at Thor’s guise, I couldn’t help but think something was missing, some definitive feature that, despite his ogre shape, would convince the giant that this bride was Freya. Granted, Thrym wasn’t very bright, but with Thor looking like a net full of boulders, he needed all the help he could get. Then I realized what the perfect finishing touch would be: Freya’s necklace, Brising-whatever. Not only did that bauble catch people’s attention more than the goddess’s eyes, but it would be undeniable proof that the bride I presented was Freya.
Of course, there would be no convincing Freya to give it up. Because of the multiple infidelities she enacted to possess it, her husband left her. Not even that moved her to dump the thing in the Rhine. I knew I would have to borrow it discreetly—or in plain terms, steal it. On the one hand, it wouldn’t be too difficult: Since her husband left, she fell into the habit of hiding her depression by taking an afternoon nap. On the other hand: Heimdall, watch guard of Asgard, could hear my approach to her home and catch me in the act. That sneak could smell a fire before it burned, and could hear the flints strike from ten miles away. No wonder he passed as an Aesir so well. I would need to distract him somehow.
I struck a casual conversation with Tyr. Because of his respect for my son, I in turn respected him. I complimented his dexterity in changing sword arms with such ease, using his formerly dominant hand for a shield. I then segued into encouraging him to visit Fenrir again. I know he hadn’t since he was chained, but I assured him that my son had forgiven him and would appreciate the company. Not only did I believe in my words, but they worked to my purpose: As Tyr approached where Fenrir was chained, Heimdall’s attention was directly fixed to their meeting, wondering if the wolf would attack again. Now that the guard was distracted, I made my way to Freya’s home.
As I came close to where she slept, she stirred. I immediately formed into the likeness of her ever-distant husband Odur—she would have seen through my bridesmaid guise easily. Her eyes opened completely, and she smiled. It was…weird. She had never smiled at me before.
“My husband!” she sighed. “Do I dream, or have you finally returned to me?”
“This is just a dream.” I made my voice somewhat hypnotic.
Her smile diminished. “Why do you torture me with your image?”
“I am only here as a reminder: No matter how far I am from you, we have each other in our dreams.” It took all I could muster to not wince at such sentimentality.
“You are right, my love. But before I depart from this dream, let me have a kiss.”
I swallowed a laugh. After all, this did work toward my goal. Mind you, that’s all it was: a means to an end. So as I leaned in and touched my lips to hers, I carefully unfastened the necklace from her neck, hastily hiding it behind my back. As she had closed her eyes for the kiss, she slipped off back to sleep. Then I reverted back to myself in my bridesmaid costume and ran out as fast as I could.
I’m laughing because it was funny, not because I enjoyed it. And no, I’m not blushing—I don’t blush. Come on, it was all to help get Thor’s hammer back. Okay, fine;
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