The High Seat of Lidskjalf. Tall it rose, far above all Alfheim. It was forbidden to all but Odin and Frigg, who availed themselves of the privilege often and gladly. Was it mere chance that Frey should happen upon it on the one day it sat empty?

"I should not have done it," Frey admitted. "I should never have climbed Lidskjalf, but I did. And now I have paid for my misdeeds." Rising, he began to pace the room. "My heart is empty of all feeling now, except for my overpowering love. I cannot live without her. Such beauty there is in her ice-blue eyes, in her soft pink lips, in her long white arms. Oh, by all life..."

Skirnir placed his hand on the god's shoulder. "Frey," he said quietly, "what is the name of this maid who has stolen your heart? Who did you see when you gazed from the heights of Lidskjalf?"

Frey sat down on his ornamented chair and sighed. "I will tell you all," he said, "but the tale will be short and desperate.

"You know already that I foolishly climbed the High Seat Lidskjalf. No sooner had my body touched the seat than I saw Jotunheim, dark and dreary. Amazed at how the smallest thing in that world was to me as visible as my own hand, I peered into the uttermost reaches of the land. In the darkest, farthest corner I saw a gleam of light shining from the home of Gymir. Surprised to see light in so gloomy a place, I turned my gaze nearer. Across the courtyard walked a maiden fairer than moonlight. She lifted her arms to push open the door to the hall, and with that gesture entered the door to my innermost being." Frey ran his hands through his long golden hair with a sigh. "Gerd, the beautiful daughter of Gymir, has taken my heart captive."

"The daughter of Gymir?" Skirnir repeated. "You love this maiden and long to gaze upon her icy blue eyes? Frey, Frey—her eyes reveal her heart. Never was maiden so cold and proud. She may be beautiful, but—"

"It is not for her beauty alone that I desire her," Frey interrupted. "It is my life's joy to give warmth to others, to melt cold hearts and burst cold seeds. It may cost me pain, but I am determined to bring life and warmth to Gerd's heart."

"It is an aspiration worthy of you, my lord," said Skirnir, after a pause. "But how are you to accomplish it? The laws written on the tablets in Asgard say that no god may court a maiden himself. There must be another willing to woo her in his name."

"All this I know," said Frey impatiently. "But who will make the trip for me? Neither elves nor Aesir would ever brave the coldness of her heart and the gloom of her home. Even the journey to Jotunheim is hard and forbidding."

"There is one, neither elf nor Aesir, who is willing," said Skirnir quietly. "My lord, I will go and woo the maiden for you."

Frey leaped up with a joyful exclamation. Skirnir's dark eyes twinkled as he held up his hand. "I must request the loan of your sword," he said. "My knife is sharp enough, but it cannot strike out by itself against jotuns and trolls. And I will need your horse as well, for he can leap through fire and flames."

"Anything you ask of me is instantly yours," Frey said. "I thank you, Skirnir, more than you can know."

Skirnir smiled and bowed his head.

Skirnir showed great bravery on his journey to Jotunheim.

Though flames leapt up before him

He did not flinch.

He did not halt.

Gallantly he spurred his horse

Onward through the fire.

Beads of sweat glistened

On his handsome face.

His locks, dark and curling,

Lay plastered on his forehead.

Witches emerged from haunted valleys.

Trolls sprung forth from caves of stone.

Though they wounded him, they could not stop him.

His sword was proof against their sorceries.

Skirnir showed great courage on his journey to Jotunheim.

Finally Skirnir arrived, weary and wounded, at the door of Gerd's chamber. Instantly six or seven dogs sprang up, snarling at him. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve and took a deep breath.

"Sir?"

Skirnir looked down and saw a young girl standing by his side, gazing up into his face.

"I have come from my mistress to welcome you," she said. "Will you enter her chambers?"

After he had dismounted his horse and tied it to a post, Skirnir followed the girl. She opened the plainly carved door and motioned for him to enter.

A golden-headed woman, beautiful as a goddess, stood beside the fireplace. Her cold blue eyes, gazing inquiringly at Skirnir, shot icy arrows through his heart. He could feel the blood draining from his face as he looked at her.

"What might be your errand here, stranger?" she asked, her voice clear and deep.

Skirnir opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. The room dissolved into a mist before his eyes as he reeled and fell.

When he came to himself he was lying on a long bed. The lady was bending over him. Her face wore an expression vaguely like relief when his eyes opened.

"You fainted," said Gerd shortly. "My servant girl found and treated a wound on your shoulder. It was bleeding freely before she bound it. Will you take some refreshment?"

Without giving him time to answer, Gerd nodded to the girl. Sitting up in bed, Skirnir took the cup of ice-cold mead that she held out to him and raised it to his lips.

"I beg pardon, my lady," he said courteously. "If I had known I was going to faint I would have waited until a more convenient time."

The lady did not smile.

Skirnir rose and set his cup of mead down on the table. "I have come from my lord Frey," he began, "with an offer for your hand. He loves you more than any gift could ever convey, but he brings you these as a poor token of his affection." Skirnir unfastened the pouch hanging at his side and shook eleven gleaming golden apples out onto the table.

Gerd looked at him incredulously. "If your lord thinks that golden apples can buy my love, he is sadly mistaken. Keep your gift. I do not want it."

"Will you accept this, then?" pleaded Skirnir, drawing his magic ring from his finger.

"Can't you see it is useless to tempt me with jewels?" said Gerd, tossing her golden head. "In my father's house are riches enough. I am not so poor that riches can endear me to Frey, the god of life and warmth."

There was a long and awkward pause. Then Skirnir lifted his head.

"Will my lady excuse me for a brief span of fifteen minutes?" he asked. "I would like to be alone in the garden behind your chambers."

"Is this a trick?" Gerd asked suspiciously.

Skirnir gazed into her eyes. Something seemed to move him closer—draw him towards her. Their fingers met and joined. Gerd's lips parted slightly—Skirnir seized her waist. The world swirled around them—then suddenly stood still. Turning on his heel, Skirnir left without a word.

Gerd stood staring after him, her hand on her heart.

Alone in the garden, Skirnir fought against himself. He had never intended for this to happen. Gerd the beautiful must not belong to him. She was meant for Frey, the giver of sunshine. None but the god of warmth could thaw her cold heart.

Lightning split the skies, and Skirnir groaned. Never in all his life had he yearned like this. Gerd's beauty filled his heart. Tingles shot throughout his body at the thought of her. Her searching blue eyes bored holes through his soul. And her flowing hair—he blushed to think of the gold he had offered her, so inferior to the living gold she wore each day.

Thunder raged, and a voice seemed to speak in his ear.

Frey's love is selfish and lustful. How long did he gaze upon the woman from the forbidden High Seat? Gerd loves you. Will she willingly be the wife of one she has never seen? Would you willingly abandon her to such unhappiness?

Skirnir fell to his knees on the wet grass. Rain poured down, drenching him, but he paid it no heed. The voice in his ear was all that mattered to him now. It gave the excuses—the explanations, rather—that he needed.

My dear Skirnir, you are wooing this maiden. Why woo if you can't win? You would be within your rights to take her in your arms and press a kiss of love on her lips—those soft pink lips. You owe this to yourself. Think of the dangers you went through to come here! Will your blood have been spilled for Frey's pleasure—not yours or Gerd's?

Another voice, warm and affectionate, spoke in Skirnir's memory.

It is my life's joy to give warmth to others...It may cost me pain, but I am determined to bring life and warmth to Gerd's heart.

"If there is a higher power than the gods I know," cried Skirnir, raising his arms to heaven, "tell me which voice to believe!"

Before his eyes rose the image of Gerd—charming, enchanting, beautiful beyond words. She was near him—she was in his arms—but her eyes were turned away, and her body was cold. Despair wrapped itself about her, entangling her and claiming her for its own. Skirnir cried aloud, and at once he saw Frey coming towards him, joy shining from his eyes.

I thank you, Skirnir, more than you can know.

"Betrayal!" Skirnir cried, and "Betrayal!" echoed from the slopes and mountains. Am I willing to betray his trust for the love of this maiden?

Thunder... You owe this to yourself... It is my life's joy to give warmth to others...Go on, kiss her lips...Her lips do not belong to you...Can I betray a friend for a love that isn't mine?...Lightning...Think of the pain it will cost you...I thank you more than you can know...more than you can know...more than you can know...

Skirnir stood up. The battle was over. He walked over to the door and knocked weakly. His strength had left him. The little maid who opened the door cried out at the sight of him.

"Oh, sir! Why did you not knock sooner? Your clothes and your hair are drenched. Please come and stand before the fire."

He followed her inside to where Gerd stood beside the window, gazing out across the mountains. She turned at the sound of his step.

"Gerd," Skirnir said quietly, "will you accept the love of Frey?"

"You have asked me this already," Gerd answered icily. But her voice shook slightly, and Skirnir knew that she had seen his silent battle.

"His love is greater than you have ever dreamed," said Skirnir. "When you see him, you will love him as I do."

Gerd lowered her eyes. For a moment she seemed to hesitate, then she looked up and said:

"I will promise nothing until I have seen him. If he will meet me at Barre, the sacred barley patch, I will be there tonight."

"Thank you," said Skirnir simply. "I will tell him."

They stood for a while, looking at each other. Skirnir lifted Gerd's white hand and brought it to his lips. For the first time, Gerd smiled faintly.

"Farewell, then, until tonight," she said.

"Until tonight," Skirnir echoed. "Farewell, my lady."

The maiden kept her word.

At the waning of the day

In the sacred field of barley,

Frey met her and took her in his arms.

When his fingers, blazing with light,

Touched hers, pale and cold,

Her heart melted.

Their marriage was joyful,

Like the wedding of the sun and moon.

Skirnir was not forgotten.

He attended Frey on his glorious wedding day

And the bride kissed his cheek

As a sister might kiss

Her brother.