Long weekend double post, whoo! Don't get excited, it won't happen again. Thanks for all your kind reviews, I don't deserve you guys *sniffle* Many questions you have all asked will be answered in later chapters, don't worry!
The Jotnar had only four songs, and yet they could encompass any emotion or story the Frost Giants wished to express.
More specifically, the four songs were set tunes to which any lyrics could be applied, their meaning dependent upon that tune. A march to war from the Hunt song became a lament when the same lyrics were applied to the Snowfall tune. Words were of higher import in a song than the tune, so a man skilled in song could improvise the lyrics with minimal repetition of a chorus.
The Snowfall tune was the easiest and most common song, its rhythm slow and steady, allowing for the singer time to construct his lyrics, and repetitive with little deviation. Known songs were plentiful in this tune, including mourning songs and lullabies.
The Hunt too was repetitive, but where Snowfall was soft, the Hunt was bold. It was to this tune bands of hunters would sing as they traversed across the plains. To as As ear, it sounded akin to a march, and the Aesir were indeed familiar with it, as the Jotnar marched into battle under its cadence.
The sacred Spire tune's tempo and pitch rose and fell through its cycle dramatically, representing the raising of one's focus upwards to the stars as he beseeched his ancestors, and then falling in humility. This song was rarely sung outside the temples, but on occasion it could be heard under the breath of an individual after a personal victory or in the face of beauty. Women hummed its alternating tune in the crystal caverns below, where it was both beautiful and the acoustics unmatched.
The most complex was the Wind song, as it was in fact a compilation of four individual tunes that were to be strung together in the fashion of a tale. It was not true Wind if one did not perform at least one cycle of each of these four tunes: the soft Calm, the slow but rhythmic Breeze, the swift tempo of the Gale, and the wild and alternating Fury, always sung loud and fast.
In the Jotunn King's court, many were allowed presence, but only those who had proven themselves skilled in the art of speech were permitted to do so. A song was required as proof. A man who could not improvise lyrics well could sing a known song and still be given his due, but his future words would not carry even half as much weight as those who sang their own.
The first day Loki was in his father's court, he stood before the gathered men and readied himself. His height rendered him unnoticed and the loud voices continued on until Laufey raised his hand for silence. There were laws even a king could not break, and the right to try to prove oneself worthy to speak was one of them, much as he would prefer Loki not be present at all.
The hall grew quiet and all eyes turned to Loki, some men peering over the shoulders of those in front of them to see him. He was nervous, but he dare not show it. Snowfall was the most common tune, the easiest, then the Hunt, and this was the one Laufey expected his son to sing, as it so often inspired those who heard it. But Loki was a prince, the King's heir, and a runt cursed to be inferior in all he did.
Loki could not merely be, he had to be better.
His voice burst from his throat, loud, almost screeching, and wild. He did not miss the look of surprise on many in the crowd. He was attempting the Wind song, and starting with the Fury. Wind was a story, and like most stories that required it, usually began calm and slow, building to the climax, and then softening to its end, be it a good or sorrowful one. Not Loki.
Loki sang of the greatest of all stories, the history of the Jotnar, and that tale began in chaos. He sang of the Ginnungagap, of fire and ice, of cauldrons and rivers that turned to mist. He sang of Ymir, the First and Most Powerful, and the coming of the lesser beings. He told of the slaughter of Ymir by the jealous Aesir and of the survival of Bergelmir who fathered them all. He sang of the Serpent of Chaos, who coiled about Yggdrasil's branches and made them eternally waver, never settling.
Loki's voice slowed slightly, the wild words gaining rhythm in the Gale tune. He sang of how the races allied themselves in the face of chaos and marched to war. The Aesir swung their swords, the sorcerers cast their spells, the Alfar forged weapons for all of them. They traveled across Yggdrasil leaving order and blood in their wake. He sang of the Serpent's fall, and how its landing shattered the Ginnungagap and the battle was won.
Here Loki's voice fell, slow and so quiet that many leaned close to hear his Calm. The war was won, but at what a price. He sang of the loss of life, the betrayal of the Aesir, and of the death of the sorcerers who had slain their own serpent mother. Without the Ginnungagap, that Chasm of Chasms, fire, ice, and mist coiled up the trunk of Yggdrasil and settled into its branches and the Nine Realms were formed.
Raising his voice into the slow but steady Breeze, Loki sang of the realms, from cold Niflheim below to golden Asgard high above. He sang of Jotunheim last, describing its beauty and culture, and though it nestled itself amidst the branches lower than Asgard, it was truly the greatest of all the realms.
So ended Loki's song, and those gathered in the court hailed their prince, for he had earned the use of their ears.
Laufey sat through their congratulations, what a talented son he had sired, what a king would he be to continue his noble line, suffering in silence. There was no pride in his child, no congratulations or joy. Once, he may have allowed such things in his heart, but then the image of the laughing little beast, covered in blood and standing over his slain mother, would appear at the forefront of his thoughts, and any possible affection would turn to lead.
After that, Loki sang rarely for an audience. He was well aware that, while everyone praised his use of words, no one enjoyed actually hearing him. Loki's voice was atrocious. The Jotnar sang so deep and low that the stones themselves would vibrate, as though they wished to join. Loki's small size denied him this. He sounded like a lizard.
(He would also learn from Helblindi that when he sang his accent would become apparent. Loki had worked hard to quell it and so was properly mortified. His mother was a foreigner who'd been decent in speaking the Jotunn language at best, and Loki's speech early in his life had suffered for it. He knew the words and how to say them, but his pronunciation was marred by Svartalfr accents.
Fortunately, the more time he spent among other Frost Giants, the less obvious his accent became as he learned the proper Jotunn pronunciations. Once on the surface, he managed to rid himself of it entirely, or so he thought. His brothers were quick to point out that it was discernable whenever he became impassioned. Loki was suitably annoyed.)
Not that Loki wouldn't make use of his high-pitched, 'womanly' voice. He would amuse himself by creeping up behind newly ascended young men and letting loose a high ululation. In habit, the men would whirl around in terror, expecting their angry mothers and only finding a laughing Loki. He wasn't popular with the young men.
Loki did find himself an audience in Byleistr, who was enamored by Loki's unique way of combining Jotunn and Svartalfr song patterns. The Svartalfar were the opposite of the Jotnar in that while they found the lyrics of a song meaningful, it was in the singing itself they found their pleasure. Many nights did Loki's mother sing him to sleep, and he remembered none of the words, but he could hum the tunes perfectly. He would tweak one of the four songs when he was alone, extend a note here, alter a pitch there, hold the last...
Byleistr caught him at it one day, and Loki snarled at him and fell silent, but with a bit of pleading, continued. From them on, Loki sang for Byleistr when he asked, and even Helblindi would listen, though with far less enthusiasm.
It was years before the three of them perfected their harmonizing, and those in the citadel who heard them found it a strange song indeed.
Thor happily trailed after his mother and told her all about Jotunn songs, to which she listened with a patient smile. (She wondered if Loki was aware that Thor related just about all he told him to anyone willing to listen.) It was when Thor offered to sing her one himself she sent him off to play.
Frigga encouraged Thor's interest in Loki for the same reasons as Odin, as well as her own. Thor was a excitable child, and forcing him to sit down for lessons or, worse yet, to study, was proving difficult. She was hoping some of Loki's calm and inclination to think would rub off on her son, so that he could grow to be both a strong and clever ruler, like his father. Thor was also good for Loki, in his own way. If Loki was busy chasing the boy around, he had less time to grow idle and start taking it out on poor bystanders.
But now she began to wonder if the two should spend some time apart. Frigga had no intention of truly separating them, but the fact was they spent too much time together, and that couldn't be healthy for either. Thor was making friends his own age, yes, but only in the classroom. When he was released he went straight to Loki and didn't look back. When Loki wasn't available or simply didn't wish to play, Thor would mope about, latching on to Frigga if he could.
She had no doubt he was looking for the Jotunn prince at that moment.
"You should take Loki with you to Alfheim," she said when she next saw her husband.
"I was already thinking it, but what is your reasoning?"
"Thor."
"Ah." Odin didn't need her to elaborate, but she did anyway.
"It would be good for him to be without Loki for a while, to make friends his own age. What will he do when Loki leaves us?"
"You know as well as I that will be no time soon." He reached out, teasing a lock of his wife's hair between his fingers. "Loki will accompany me. I've been meaning to get him more familiar with the state of the realms, and I think a visit to Svartalfheim will be good for him. I know he has questions about his mother's homeworld, though he has not voiced them."
Relieved, Frigga kissed her husband chastely, but with a lingering promise for more later before she turned away. She hadn't gone far when Odin called after her:
"However, you can be the one to inform our son of this."
Frigga cursed.
