A/N Much thanks to my few loyal readers! I would love to hear your take on the story, especially from readers in the European Union! Don't worry about leaving me a message I can't understand; I'll run it through a translating program on my end. R&R please! Your Icelandic lesson for the day: rækja=shrimp faðma=hug ófreskja=monster

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Loki strode thoughtfully down the path to Eir's House: hands clasped behind him and his eyes studying the trail. He didn't normally visit the clinic; biology was Thor's territory, and Loki's seidr was more in tune with physics than the ordering of living things. Still, he had a puzzle on his hands, so that meant going out of his comfort zone.

The clinic was quiet when he arrived. Luncheon was over, and many of the staff and patients were either resting or doing small tasks. Loki found Lady Eir bent over her desk, making notations in a client file of some sort. Her mouth was set in a frown.

He knocked on the doorframe. "Lady Eir?"

She blinked at the sudden intrusion and squinted at the prince framed in the doorway light, but her face relaxed when she recognized Prince Loki.

"Hello, you're Majesty. How may I assist you today?" She peered at what she could see of his form. "You haven't injured yourself with some new spell, have you? You seem intact..."

Loki smiled at the woman's gentle ribbing. A little teasing among professionals never hurt anyone, and helped ease stress.

"I am fine, Lady Eir. But I find myself with a puzzle that lacks a few pieces. I hoped to pick up a few here in your clinic," he admitted.

"Sit down, please, and welcome," she said, rolling up the scroll she had been working on. "What is the nature of your puzzle?"

"I am working on a theory as to the identity of Lady Julesang's attackers," Loki began after settling into a chair. "I suspect that the altered forms she saw during her violation were not drug-induced hallucinations, but actual shape-shifting that took place during the assault."

Lady Eir nodded. "You suspect that her attackers were not Midgardians," she guessed.

"Correct. I was hoping to analyze the genetic markers from their...abandoned seed...if I could. I presume you ran the usual post-violation wash of Lady Julesang's core, and tested any genetic material? While she knew several of her attackers, some of them were strangers to her," he informed the medic.

Lady Eir scowled. "Your mother and I did the wash, aye. But the clinic has been beset by a number of clients and extraneous duties since then, including the Merchant Ragur's trial, and we are short-staffed. I have not been able to do the necessary tests to isolate any one attacker's genetic code, much less all of them."

Loki was taken aback. "The entire wash remains untested?"

"Aye, it is. It has been in cold storage, so should still be in good shape, but untested it is."

Loki pondered this for a moment. Every hour's delay meant the Coven that violated Lady Julesang would escape justice, and that was unthinkable. He wanted to get his hands on these barbarians now.

"Lady Eir," he said slowly after a moment's thought, "would you mind if I tested the material personally? If I am right about the Coven's genetic trace, there could be more here at stake than one woman's virtue. Not that her virtue is unimportant, mind you," he hastily explained, "but there may be a bigger problem accompanying this crime."

"You are always welcome here, Prince Loki. It would be a relief to my heart, knowing there is less delay in seeking justice for that poor child," Eir admitted. She rose and led the Prince to the testing facility at the back of the house. "You will find everything you need here," she said, pulling open several different cabinets, "and the cold storage is yonder. The attackers' seed is clearly marked with Lady Julesang's name and date she entered the clinic. Oh, beware of the faðma ófreskja, too. It has a tendency to attack the legs when you least expect it," she gave the Dark Prince a knowing smile, and after a moment he understood.

"You have a hug monster in the clinic, eh? Well, it could be worse. You could have trolls. Or a broken-hearted Fandral the Dashing. Or Volstagg with indigestion. Or..."

WHAM, a small body suddenly collided with Prince Loki's left leg. He mock-scowled down at the tiny golden head, and the arms-one still in a cast, that wrapped around his calf.

"Hmmm. Not many people can sneak up on the Dark Prince of Asgard, little rækja," he chided playfully. "You are especially quiet on your feet, little one." He reached down and peeled Edelstenn Ragirdottir off of his leg. "Come up, and let me look at you! Are you well?"

Edelstenn smiled and blushed. "Yes," she burbled happily.

"You should say 'Yes, my lord Prince,' to your Prince," Lady Eir admonished.

Edelstenn's eyes widened, but she nodded her head again. "Yes, my Lord Prince, especially since," she looked around guiltily and clapped a hand over her little mouth.

"Especially since what?" Prince Loki prodded. "Seidr got your tongue?"

Edelstenn leaned in to whisper in her Prince's ear. "Especially since my Papa isn't here," she said in a scandalized tone. "Please don't think I'm bad!"

"Never," Loki promised, and gave the tot a kiss on the head. "Now go run and play," he said, setting her down.

Lady Eir waited until Edelstenn was out of earshot to explain. "Ragur the Disgraceful came to my clinic after his sentence was carried out, and expected me to set his arms aright, even as I had done to his dottir's." Her face hardened. "I sent him away, and told him to find a healer he felt he could trust, since he saw fit to lie to my face when it was his dottir's health on the line."

Loki nodded appreciatively. "Nicely handled. Any luck finding the child's mother's kin?"

Eir smiled. "Aye. Her mother's sister will be here in a week. In the mean-tide the lass runs about hugging any who cross her path. She is a delightful child. She asks about Julesang, too, holding her in esteem."

Loki smiled. "I shall mention it to the maiden. She should be able to visit before the child leaves the clinic." He looked down at his gathered basins and chemicals. "For the nonce, I have vermin to hunt."

"Blessed be thy seidr, Prince Loki."

"Thank you, Lady Eir."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Carol, now called Julesang by the entire Palace, slowly blinked herself awake. The Queen had graciously allotted her quarters in her own wing of the Valholl. Carol thought they were huge, but had been informed that they were small by Aesir standards. Still, she had never slept in a bed the size of a swimming pool before...

Judging by the light, it was easily mid-morning, and some sort of songbird serenaded her from the windowsill. Carol still slept a great deal, but understood from Lady Eir that such was normal. Even with the Aesir transfusion, she was still anemic, and therefore weak. She spent a good deal of her time just eating and sleeping, hoping to regain her strength.

Her hair, at least, was beginning to grow out again. She actually had a little to brush now. That little bit was then dutifully covered up by a head-scarf after she dressed. All the women on this world had phenomenal hair, and Carol was more than a little self-conscious bearing a crew-cut.

She finished washing up alone-again apparently breaking with Aesir guest tradition, since she was supposed to have a maid help her with such things. She just couldn't bear to have more people seeing her skin. The scars were abominable. Then she squirmed into the dress that had appeared on her nightstand. Breakfast had appeared of its own volition after she had risen: a steaming pot of tea with milk and honey, fresh curds and fruit, dark bread and butter. It was all delicious. She saved a few pieces of bread for the songbird and his mate, who seemed to have built a nest above one of her windows. These she set on a plate next to a bowl of clean water on the sill.

"Thank ye for your song, little friend," she said to the cautious bird, who stood at the far end of the sill watching her out of one eye. "Ye sing most sweetly."

The bird, an iridescent-and-blue version of a dove, bobbed his head at her as if he understood, but did not approach the bread until she stepped away. Carol thought he just might understand speech; she was in Asgard, after all.

The bird chirped twice, then bobbed a piece of bread in the water-bowl, and flew it up to his mate.

Just as suddenly, there was a knock at her door.

Carol blinked in surprise. She had just been wondering what on Earth...er...Asgard...she was going to do all day. She was certain the royal family had other things to tend to than intergalactic refugees. Who could be knocking?

Carol struggled to pull open the great door, and found a member of the Royal Guard standing just outside. He was tall (most Aesir were, but this man was tall even for one of them) and to her surprise, dark-skinned. His eyes were a rich chocolate with flecks of metallic bronze, and his hair and beard curled downward in tight spirals, unlike Baldr's and Thor's straight blond manes. He placed a thick right hand over his heart and bowed.

"By your leave, Lady Julesang: I am Jarl Rig-Son. My lady the Queen has commanded me to accompany you about the palace and grounds this day, so that you may become accustomed to your new home. Do you fare well enough to stroll a bit with me? You will be quite safe, I assure you."

His voice was deep and resonant, and somehow familiar, though Carol could not imagine where she had heard it before.

"Thank ye," she replied, "that will be lovely."

Carol could tell that Jarl had to walk a good deal slower than he was accustomed to doing, and she apologized for seeming slow. He waved off her concerns, however.

"Art from Midgard, Lady Yulesang, much shorter than am I, and healing. Going slow will teach me some patience. Worry not."

Jarl showed her the sigils stamped onto each of the posts as they passed. As it happened, they were not mere decorations; they were signposts.

"The Vallholl t'is a large place, Lady Yulesang, and thou art not the first visitor here. T'would be a poor host indeed that expected a visitor to know how to get about without some help," he explained.

The Sigils could be looked at, he taught her, but were even easier read with fingers when one knew how. "You may need to find your way in the dark, someday, Lady Yulesang."

They chatted about a number of things as Jarl showed her around the house, and eventually the gardens. Jarl was himself from Midgard, as was his mother, "But my father is the god Rig, so I am the Rig-Son," he explained. "Rig did often visit Midgard, and on one such trip he was offered lodging by a fair lady of Samnia and her wealthy husband."

"I dinna know this place, Jarl," Carol explained.

"You call it Southern Italy now," he continued. "At any rate, though they were wealthy, they had no children. Rig (my father) lay between husband and wyfe that night as they slept, and prayed to bless the couple for their hospitality. Nine months later I was born."

Carol figured she knew exactly how Rig had 'blessed' the couple for their hospitality, but held her tongue on that subject. "Did they have any more bairns after ye?"

"Aye," Jarl nodded, "they were blessed with five sons and two dottirs. I could have inherited the family manor, being the eldest, but my Aesir blood did burn within me. When our lands were secure, and my brothers and sisters all settled with their own homes and families, I left the family manor and became an adventurer. I traveled far and wide, and eventually led a cohort of men, and did many battles with both men and beasts. Along the way I finally met my father, the god Rig, and he did reveal himself and his home to me. He had been watching me, he said, from his post in Asgard, and had seen that I had grown to a man of honor and valor. He taught me many things, which I gladly learned, and eventually I followed him here. Asgard is now my home," he said proudly.

"So I am not the only person with family in both Asgard and Earth...Midgard?" Carol asked, amazed.

"Nay," Jarl said, smiling. "Midgard has ever been the wandering place for the restless of Asgard. There is always something new to see, for it changes so quickly, and there have been many romances betwixt maids and warriors o'er the years. Doubtless, being from the Misty Isles yourself, you have heard of some of them, for I understand the tales are still told of a Robber Hood and his Raucous Companions, and the love the bandit had for Maid Miryam."

Carol thought for a moment. "Robin Hood, we say, and his Merry Men, and the romance with Maid Marion, who was ward of the King," she said.

Jarl nodded. "Names change a little over the centuries, but aye, it sounds alike."

"Did you ever marry?" The words had burst from Carol's mouth before she could rein in her curiosity, but Jarl only smiled.

"Aye, indeed. My lady-wyfe is Erna the Fair, Hersirdottir. I won her hand by defeating the Smoke Dragon of Eggrsdown, and bringing back its heart-stone as her bride-price. Her father was loath to bless our union even with such a dowry, dangerous though it was, but when I conquered the beast the entire village rose up in my defense, and we did plight our troth at the dragon's feast. It was quite a party," he said a little wistfully.

"The dragon fed a lot of people, then?" Carol couldn't help but smile.

"Aye, it did. There were 500 men in that village alone, besides women and children, and we feasted on the beasts' flesh for a month in the thick of winter. Dragon meat never goes bad," he explained to her wondering eyes, "nor does it get cold when cooked. It was a great juletide, truly!"

"Do ye have any bairns?"

"Aye, we have 11 sons. My lady-wyfe is a force of nature!"

"Eleven sons? Art trying to catch up to the All-Father?" Carol's eyes were wide, and Jarl laughed.

"Erna did not have them all at once, lass! But she does love being a mother, an' swears she won't give up the bearing until one of our lads makes her a grandmother. Since that has not yet happened in 300 years, I must still provide her with bairns, since I have sworn on my sword to do all to bring her joy in this life."

Carol giggled. "Mayhaps you should question your sons, an' see that they are not in league against you with your lady-wyfe, delaying their own wedding days."

Jarl's face twisted into a thoughtful pucker. "Consider this I had not. T'is good advice, Lady Julesang," he nodded gravely. "I do wish for grandchildren on my knees at least before Ragnarok," he admitted.

By now Carol was feeling winded, and since they had passed into the royal gardens, Jarl found a bench for her to rest upon near a fountain. Jarl himself stood like a sentinel, and helped Carol drink from the fountain. While she refreshed herself, something like a raven fluttered up to Carol's escort, and the man put out his hand. Carol was surprised to see Jarl hold a conversation with the bird, talking quietly and nodding. Was this a norm in Asgard? Jarl eventually turned to her, with the raven still perched on his hand.

"Lady Julesang, the Queen requires your presence today for tea in the solarium, at the second watch post noon-tide," he announced, "and there is a message here from Edelstenn the Young, dottir of Ragir, through the Prince Loki. She misses you, and hopes you will visit Lady Eir's house before she leaves for her kin's-dwelling."

"She is a sweet child. I will have to find a way to get to Lady Eir's house, somehow," Carol nodded, then cocked her head to one side. "A bird said all that?" she asked in wonderment.

Jarl nodded. "Many birds are used in Asgard as message-bearers or chaperones or spies, and understanding their speech is a common gift. It depends on the species, though, as to how they can be used. An eagle or hawk will not stoop to bearing tales, being combat and hunting birds only. Falcons are used for both messaging and hunting by nobility, but Owls say little unless pressed. Sparrows," he confided, "are the absolute worst gossips in the nine realms. They won't lie, but they won't have anything worth listening to, either. Sensible people ignore them. If you want to send a message, trust a dove, a raven, or a crow. They mean business."

"I remember that King Odin keeps two ravens: Huginn and Muninn. Is your companion one of them?" Carol asked, indicating the bird that sat regally on Jarl's hand.

"Nay," he said, shaking his head, "this is Imyndun-'Imagination' in your tongue. She is the egg of Huginn and Muninn, and a great companion."

"I can believe it," Carol nodded. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Imyndun," she said to the bird.

The black bird ruffled her feathers and bowed. "Likewise! Likewise!" She squawked.

"Sir Jarl," Carol said thoughtfully, "there be a pair of nesting songbirds on my windowsill. Be they palace servants as well?"

Jarl nodded. "Aye. They do watch over your sleep, and alert the palace staff when you rise or have another need. The Queen herself did appoint them for you."

"I must remember to thank her," Carol said, deeply touched. Inspiration suddenly struck, and she looked cautiously up at her tall companion. "Jarl...could ye...be it allowed for me to study the language of the birds?"

Jarl looked thoughtful at the request. "I see not why. As I said, 'tis a common gift here in Asgard, and I am not forbidden to teach you. Imyndun," he said, turning to the raven, "would you help us in this venture?"

The raven bobbed up and down excitedly. "Aye! I will! Aye! I will!" it cried out, and hopped off of Jarl's hand. Fluttering over to Carol, it landed on the bench next to her lap. "Perch! Perch!" she cried out.

"Hold out your hand for her, Lady Julesang," Jarl instructed. "She needs to sit on it to speak comfortably."

Carol was surprised at the bird's weight. It felt like a young turkey!

"Now, Lady Julesang," Jarl said, "let us begin..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Heimdallr paced restlessly at his post. The Bifrost Gate was humming, its energy patterns fluctuating in a way that indicated an incoming traveler, but no Aesir off-realm had asked him to open the portal. Merchants, ambassadorial staff, warriors...each of these parties had their own code to use to alert him to open the gate. He knew all of them by heart; and the pattern presented to him was inconsistent with any Aesir gate pass-code. Visitors from other realms all sent messages through first, asking permission to visit Asgard, as was proper.

But this traveler was not from any of the Nine Realms.

And still the Bifrost Gate hummed and popped.

"Gulltoppr," he commanded grimly, "ready yourself."

His horse-a giant metallic-gold stallion, snorted in agreement. Together with his master the Bifrost Gate was kept safe. He would be ready for any attempted breach.

The Gate started to whirl, and Heimdallr's sword rang out of its sheath. Gulltoppr took up a position between his master and the Rainbow Bridge even as the Gate itself opened...

Just a crack...

Letting slip past a flaming, five-pointed sigil surrounded by the three phases of the Midgardian moon. Colored smoke curled around the fiery image, and a voice whispered out of the smoke...

"Lady Nexus and her Consort the Lord Cernunnos seek peaceful passage to Asgard, seeking an audience with King Odin All-Father and Queen Frigga All-Mother. We bring to their attention a foul violation of interstellar treaty and possible threat to the security of all realms: a complicated piece of mischief, only possible to a master sorcerer. May we pass?"

Heimdallr sheathed his sword and raised a gloved hand. "Gullvæng," he called, "Carry a message to his Majesty," he commanded.

The falcon bowed once, then flew to his master's grip and listened intently while the giant Aesir spoke. The falcon bowed once and listened, then flew off straight for the palace. Two heartbeats later he rematerialized on his post again.

"Granted! Granted," the Falcon said.

Heimdallr drew his sword and stabbed it downwards into the Bifrost Gate control wheel, and the Gate began to turn. It hummed, whirled, screamed, and opened with a whirl of fire and gold, and two figures stepped out of the golden haze.

The woman was tall and shapely, wrapped in a flowing Kelly-green mantle that decorated with gold trim, flowers, and vines, while leafy vines wound their way around her bare arms and legs and down to her feet. She held a staff topped off with the waxing, full, and waning moons, and a pentacle hung around her neck. Hair brown as the earth flowed down her back, but Heimdallr noticed it seemed to gradually lengthen and shorten, and to shift from brown to fire-red to gray, and back again. Her skin shown like starlight, and her eyes, blue as the deepest ocean, smiled kindly as she bowed in greeting to Heimdallr.

"Merry we meet, Heimdallr old friend," she said, and her voice was at once young and old, sweet and gravelly.

Her companion was a tall, stern-looking man with deep green skin and completely black eyes: no sclera showed at all. Stag-antlers decorated with torc-amulets sprang from his head, white hair cascaded around his shoulders, and he was clad in simple deerskin leather. A hunting horn hung at his waist, and a bow and quiver hung on his back. He too nodded respectively to Heimdallr.

"Well met indeed, Heimdallr All-Seer, Gatekeeper of the Aesir," intoned the Green Man. His voice boomed like a rockslide.

"Lady Nexus, Lord Cernunnos," Heimdallr intoned, "merry we meet indeed, and welcome to Asgard!" He bowed deeply and waved his massive black hand to where an honor guard had assembled on the Rainbow Bridge. "We have made ready for you."

The Wiccan deities stepped off the Bifrost Observatory, and onto the Rainbow Bridge.

TBC