Worship of the Gods
Oh, he did look like a deity –
the perfect balance of danger and charm,
he was at the same time fascinating and inaccessible,
distant because of his demonstrated flawlessness,
and possessing such strength of character
that he was dismaying and at the same time
utterly attractive in an enticing and forbidden way.
Simona Panova, Nightmarish Sacrifice
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tip of the Tongue
Something was deeply wrong with her. She was losing time. It shot by, or rather… she shot through time. She could scarcely recall the sound of London traffic, the taste of coffee and the human gasps of awe echoing through the museum's walls.
Did anyone miss her? Was her apartment emptied; her things sold at auction?
The possibility of returning to London used to be plausible. Ellie prayed she would be allowed to see it one last time before saving the Ljósálfar. Although, the rate her life was flying by, she figured she would be a wrinkly, immobile woman by then. Her head ached at the idea of it. She rubbed her temples attempting to recall what happened after Ajun's trial.
No thought would appear. It was as if she walked out of the hall and into present time.
Rumour had it Ajun, Ragnar and Soveigg screamed down to the dungeons and continued to screech until the sun rose the following day. They considered it a betrayal from their own kind.
"Stop thinking about them," Lounn shoved her. She lowered her bitten forefinger and shot him a disgruntled glare. "You know they deserve what they got."
Unable to bring herself to admit it, she leaned against the stone wall and watched the warriors huddled around a table.
"Which one do you think I should get done?" he changed the conversation to her deep gratefulness. "I'm thinking the incisors." Shoving a finger in his mouth, he pulled his lip up and touched his teeth. They were smooth, humanely yellowed but uncarved.
"None of them. Gordon Bennet," she exasperated, "you want to taint the body God gave you?" With a grin, she pulled his hand down and shook her head. "That was a joke, but I stand by my words. Don't do this."
The dreadful events of the trial were followed by the exciting news of Lord Freyr's return. His people, the Ljósálfar, were arriving that morning. Only Ellie knew their presence was vital to her task. They would witness her final trial and be the judge of her destiny. Sweat beaded her underarms and forehead at the idea of being a spectacle. She would have to consult Loki Odinson beforehand, he would be able to calm her. He deduced her anxiety into ash like a prayer used to.
"Skål!" Gustav cried, knocking back a goblet of ale. He rubbed a finger across his freshly filed teeth and grinned menacingly. Lounn bounced on his toes.
With the news of the Ljósálfar, the incoming graduation and battles, the warriors decided it would a paradisiac opportunity to carve runes in their teeth. It was a Norse tradition for fighters. During war, they would bare their teeth and frighten their opponents. The symbols would be eternal in the bone, unless someone spun their jaw out.
Ellie neared the table and peered at the next victim. It was Malai. The woman shot her a glare for being nosy. It was hard to pull her eyes away as the carver scratched a deep, horizontal groove in her central incisor.
With the contents of her stomach threatening to make an appearance, Ellie clenched her jaw. "Gods, I'd rather shag a draugr than do that," she strained.
"Inbreeding is illegal," Malai hissed, her voice muffled by the carver's knife.
"You'd know, wouldn't you?" Ellie snapped back and turned back to Lounn.
"Go on," he teased. "Do it for me. In memory of me."
"Absolutely not."
"I could die in battle."
"And I'd be sorry for that. But we both know death isn't the end."
"Well, not for me, but do you end up in Valhalla?" he asked. Ellie blinked quickly, lowering her goblet from her lips. "I mean, your God has his own afterlife. Heaven or resurrection? I was confused when I…"
Ellie's heart warmed. "You looked up my faith? Out of pure respect for me? Lounn, I'm so…"
"With all respect in mind, it left me very confused. Still, it was a beautiful rendition of the universe's creation. Even if… slightly wrong." They shared a tender smile. Ellie's turned into a bitter groan.
"Fine!" she cried. "I'll get one done."
Lounn smiled. "Front and middle?"
"Don't push it or I'll run you through. A canine. Just the canine."
Malai slid off the make-shift table, flaunting her new teeth all the way to the mirror. She had three carved and one filed into a point. In truth, Ellie wouldn't want to meet her on the battlefield.
The carver was semi-nude and hairy. He dipped his dagger into a bucket of boiling water and slapped his hands together, asking Ellie what she was hoping for.
"Protection," she replied, shuffling onto her back and laying down onto the hard surface. Her gaze slipped to Lounn, who was proudly watching her.
"Don't move," the carver steadied his blade. "Might end up with no nose."
Be still. Stop wriggling like a little worm, Sister Bonita would say. Ellie clenched her fists and tilted her head back, settling it between the carver's legs. Her eyes fell on his chest; his naked chest which was covered in sweat, dirt and tattoos. It distracted her from the scratching on her tooth.
He grunted, carving into the bone so bits of grit fell onto her tongue and onto her tonsils. She gave a muffled cough and winced.
"Stop wriggling," the carver snapped. "You're like a worm." Ellie nearly grinned, forgetting about her lost time and empty home.
Asgardian Upper Town
"I'm no different to that beggar," Ellie pointed, drawing their gazes to the homeless man rattling a clay pot of change. Loki's eyes slid over the man, withdrawing his emotion. "I rely on your wealth to survive Asgard. Just like he relies on the coin of Asgardians to live."
"There's more to it than that." Loki flicked a copper halfpenny into the pot. The beggar shot him a blessed thank you.
"There's nothing more to it."
"Status."
Shaking her head, Ellie followed the prince's lead back up to the palace. They had been called to greet to the Ljósálfar at Bifrost. To Ellie's admiration, Frigga ordered her son to lead her up to the palace to prepare for the feast. According to Loki, it was because she looked lie she'd been dragged through a mud-puddle and bathed in a sty. After the tooth-carving, the warriors trained in the rain-sodden arena.
"I bet he has a better personality than you," Ellie slid back.
Loki hissed. "That's impossible."
"Everyone has an opinion. Personal preference is a thing on Midgard."
"But you're not on Midgard."
"I could be," she said, as a lost memory emerged. "In the future."
"Contemplating the future?" Frigga had asked. She continued to watch the human make no change in her demeanour; walking down the stairwell, running her finger along the bannister. Frigga slipped into the close space between them, "or remembering the past?"
Ellie turned her head. "Both. I am thinking of a future that doesn't exist. Not anymore, anyway."
The Queen understood, she didn't reply but silently nodded in agreement that her thoughts were of a place both were glad she wasn't part of anymore. "Your carving suits you."
Touching the canine with a weary finger, Ellie grinned. "Only because you can't see it. If I bare my teeth at these wargs, I fear they'll simply laugh at me." She closed her mouth and touched the rune with the tip of her tongue, enjoying the odd grooves which crossed through the bone and sent ripples of energy through her. "I can feel its power," she commented.
"Can we make a detour to the Völva?" she asked quickly.
Loki shot her a look. "Why? Asking for fashion advice?"
"I'm losing time. Everything is going too quick. He might be able to… help me."
Together, they entered a small square where a fountain flowed behind a group of onlookers. They were preparing for an event. Loki narrowed his eyes and pulled Ellie's attention towards it. "You sound old," he said.
"Please," she scoffed. "You're fifteen times older than me."
A man in front of a small crowd leapt into view. He was stood next to a mini stage; a puppetry theatre. A group of giggling Elvish children ran past Ellie's legs and threw themselves in front of the man.
"I should go and get ready," Ellie said.
Loki raised a hand. "Wait. Listen. Stories make our world."
"Not all stories are good, though."
"All stories are good stories," Loki swaggered over to one of the stalls. The weary old woman waved a piglet around, calling for a buyer. Apparently, it was excellent pork. Ellie took the piglet and stroked his pink head. "Fine, I'll listen to the terrible stories. It'll take up more of my time."
"Are you sure you're not sleeping all the time?"
"I have weird dreams; forget and remember things," she admitted, scratching the piglet's head with a distracted sigh.
A puppet popped from beneath the frame, startling the children. It was a ruggedly dressed fellow; a peasant boy with dirty hair. The storyteller's voice was crystallised; echoing his tale rather formally. "Once there was a lad who went out to woo him a wife. A well-to-do wife. He travelled near and far; over mountains and rivers…. Until he came to a farmhouse full of a beggar family.
The wooing lad entered and the family… well, they wanted to be seen as rich folk, so the father shoved on his fanciest coat and told the lad to take a seat." Another puppet appeared, earning a giggle from the children. A tiny chair emerged, and the wooing-lad took a seat. His tiny, cotton puppet-legs sprung up in the air.
Prince Loki amusedly watched, his gaze flickering to the human girl as she attempted to hide her laugh.
"The father told the lad: 'take a seat! But mind the dust. Tis be a shocking sight in our humble home." The storyteller flanked. "The mother appeared with a pair of fancy, new shoes on. She played along with her husband and cried: 'how untidy it is in here! Everything is out of place! Hilda, come down and put all of this mess to rights! ' The daughter appeared in a brand-new bonnet."
A female puppet popped up. How the storyteller had enough talent to do so, was unanswered and unquestionable. The puppet wore a bright pink hat, knocking out the Father and Mother over and over. The crowd snorted. "The daughter huffed: 'Only me? In such short time? Well, I can't be everywhere at once! ' The wooing lad saw what a well-to-do house he had come to and figured it was not such a good idea to find a well-to-do wife."
The wooing puppet shot out of the house and flew into the audience. Three children squabbled over it as the onlookers clapped merrily. Ellie joined in with them and concluded that she'd never heard such a confusing and pointless story.
The storyteller hurried his puppets away. Out popped two characters. They were farm animals. Midgardian creatures which were used in cooking and farming. She missed the taste of their meat in broth. "The tale of the Cock and the Hen!" the puppeteer cried.
The hen shook angrily: 'you promise me shoes year after year, year after year, and yet I get no shoes! ' And the Cock replied: 'you shall have them, never fear! Henny Penny! ' Well, the Hen bristled: 'I lay egg after egg, egg after egg, and yet I go barefoot! ' So, the Cock said: 'Well, take your eggs, and be off to the tryst. Buy yourself shoes, and don't go any longer barefoot! '"
"Gods," he said. "They always spill foolish nonsense to capture your attention."
"It's doing the opposite. It's putting me off."
"You're as exciting a bag of a bones," Loki drawled.
With a scoff, Ellie hung onto the tiny pig and cradled it like a new-born babe. "Arguably a bag of bones could be exciting. I could be awarded a rune for uncovering a murder mystery."
"It's unusual for it to be a mystery. Some fool usually dishonours an honourable man and pays the price for it."
She returned the babe to its seller. "Have you ever taken a dishonourable man's life?"
The prince was not slow in answering. "Few. They are regretful and pitiful. It's a delicious sound, you know; hearing one beg for their life." It must've been uncommon to question a God, but Ellie had done so many times before. How different her life would've been if she had paid the price for doing so. "Do you spare them?" she struggled to hide her horror.
"Nay," he smirked down at her. "I have no need to."
A tremendous cheer echoed around them. The Ljósálfar children clapped and their elders urged the Aesir puppeteer for another story. "Reisiligr! reisiligr! einn meiri !" he joyfully pranced back into his box. Feeling like a child, Ellie shook her head at the affair.
"Another tale, it is!" he cried. "The Fox as a Herdsman!"
"Oh, I love this one!" someone cried in delight. Ellie shared a look with Loki and was amusedly surprised to see he enjoyed the story as well.
The puppeteer shoved a bright red fox in the air and a blonde-haired farmer beside him. "Once there was a widowed farmer searching for a herdsman to help with her flocks. She came across a fox one day who asked: 'why not have me for your herdsman?' and the widow begged him to show her his best herding song. And so the fox sang: 'Dil-dal-holom!'"
The onlookers laughed, delighted by the puppeteer's tone.
"And the widow loved the fox's song! She said: 'yes, I will have you as my herdsman', and so the fox went into the widow's field. He sang his song and ate up all the woman's goats; the next day he sang for her sheep; the next day he sang for her kine. When he returned to the widow, she cried and begged for an answer. 'Oh!' said the fox, 'their skulls are in the stream, and their bodies in the holt.'
Now, the widow fell into such a rage that she snatched the nearest object. It was a can of cream! She threw it at the fox who ran off, but it caught the edge of his tail. It splattered a white splodge on his orange fur!" The puppeteer threw white cream at the crowd, spraying everything nearby and causing a ruckus of laughter. Ellie gasped as a splash caught her cheek.
"And that's why the fox has a white tip on his tail!" the puppeteer roared with delight. Everyone erupted with joy.
Even Ellie clapped and grinned at Loki childishly. "I feel like a child," she said. "Aren't stories meant to have some moral meaning?" The prince gave her a disappointed glare. Ellie sensed his discontent as they moved through the busy crowd and emerged out of the square and began the ascent up to the palace.
Lord Freyr was settled and waiting for them which unsettled Ellie. She focused heavily on the puppeteer's stories. "What do they mean?" she asked Loki.
"You really can't figure it out? Is your little Midgardian brain so stunted?" he said.
Ellie knew she wasn't stunted. She chewed the inside of her cheek and walked in silence.
"The first tale teaches them not to search for destiny," Loki said after a pensive pause. "We have to wait for it to come to us, or else we may end up in a terribly unhappy place."
Glancing up at him, she attempted lighten the mood. "Terribly unhappy marriage it seems."
They shared a wry grin. "The second teaches them not to wait on someone else," Loki then said. "If you want something, whether it be shoes for a hen's feet, you must take it upon yourself to get it."
"And the third tells you that your sins will stain you for life," she said half-heartedly. "We had stories like those when I was a child. Didn't stop some of us stealing the Sisters' gin bottles. They were stashed under the vegetable baskets in the kitchens." The prince raised an eyebrow, studying her for several seconds and coming to a conclusion Ellie didn't care to know.
"No. It's about becoming who you're meant to be." He turned and began the rest of the walk deeper into the palace. Ellie caught up with him, holding her skirts with one hand and feeling the clack of her heels. "The fox was already a carnivore. It devoured the livestock; that physical part of it was always there. Dormant under its exterior… but always there."
Ellie suddenly felt their conversation was not about a fox. She warily looked across at him and swallowed the lump in her throat. "What am I?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. Their steps became quicker, brushing past guests and servants in a blur. "Loki," she nearly begged.
His dark gaze snapped to hers. He wrapped his slender fingers around her wrist, pulling her through an archway and into the ethereal serenity of the royal gardens. Unlike the town, the air was beautifully warm. The calmness it swept over Ellie was unwelcomed. She was hopelessly lost, her glistening eyes burning into the side of Loki's face.
"Where are we going?" their footsteps brushed onto grass. Fireflies blossomed out of the hedges, flying over their heads like embers. Ellie waved a hand, pushing them away desperately. She asked the prince again, but he said nothing.
They entered the Goddess Iduna's sanctuary.
The Idunn Tree swelled with angelic light. It illuminated the clearing with its beauty. Ellie glanced down at her form, finding herself bathed in gold. Her very skin seemed the shimmer. She followed it down to her fingertips, the ones laced in the prince's. He held her hand as if they were heading back onto the dancefloor, with his fingers pressed up into her palm.
"Why are we here?" she whispered, deathly afraid of his intentions. He pulled her forwards. There was no sight of Iduna. Her soft words wouldn't be as comforting as they once were. In fact, Ellie was petrified of being treated as an Asgardian equal; as one who belonged beneath the tree, eating from its branches. "I don't want to…"
"Yes, you do," he said.
Ellie forced her gaze down, unable to bare the beauty above them. "Where is the Goddess Iduna?"
"Celebrating with her beloved."
"No. She wouldn't leave the sanctuary like this. She wouldn't allow strangers in. We could steal the apples. You're lying to me."
"She doesn't have to leave the sanctuary to celebrate."
Clenching her fist, Ellie attempted to pull her other hand out of Loki's. He allowed it to slip several inches before he pushed his palm over the top of her hand, allowing his fingers to rest atop her wrist. "Please," Ellie said, "don't make me do this."
"Everyone has three voices: the one that everyone else hears, the one you hear when you speak and the one inside your head," Loki looked intently at Ellie. He raised an arm and dragged a finger along the underside of an apple. "What is the real difference between what you're saying aloud and what you're saying in your head? What's the truth?"
Loki had to be using some kind of magic when he looked down at her. Her chest was on fire. It crept up her throat, burning the back of her tongue. Heat stung her cheeks. "What if I die?" You won't, her mind whispered. Hope controlled her thoughts. It was nearly painful trying to resist them. "It's going to poison me," she said. It won't.
Loki's fingers drifted up her arm. They tantalisingly brushed over the goose-bumps and hair, boring his eyes into hers. He was cold – beautifully cooling the fire inside of Ellie. The fingertips slid over the shoulder, hesitating as they passed along her collarbone, up her neck and resting above the pulse.
For a startling moment, Ellie wanted his to wrap a hand around her throat. She was struggling to breathe anyway. Instead, he used a forefinger to coax her cheek and push a curl behind her ear. Then, she understood what he was doing.
Her own hand darted to the side of her head, touching the tip of her ear. Loki stepped past her. Ellie was frozen for several seconds.
"The only thing which poisons Elves is silver, did you know?" he said off-handedly, as if it was a sentence as casual as regarding the weather. Ellie quickly turned and stared after him, watching him until he disappeared out of the archway.
Turning back to the tree, she raised a hand and hesitated. Her bare wrist screamed at her. Ever since Ajun had wrenched her Rosary away, she had felt naked. The magic swimming from her soul and into her hand comforted the exposed skin and warmed the sinful hatred burning within. She watched an apple gracefully unpluck from a branch and float into her palm.
Her tongue drifted up to the rune. On the tip of her tongue, the Norse rune kissed her.
Ellie lifted the apple to her lips and took a bite, releasing its sweet contents into her throat.
She thought about the story of Adam and Eve in the garden, talking to the snake. When she was a girl, she used to believe Eve was a ruin; a sinner with no common sense. But now, as the delicacy of the apple touched her stomach and settled like a blossoming sugar cube, she understood Eve. By eating the apple, she destroyed the immensity of the Heavenly Father with just her desire. How powerful she was in that moment. And it wasn't greed which drove the first sin, it was a need for knowledge; for answers.
When Eve received them, it must've been so deliciously fulfilling.
References
Reisiligr! reisiligr! einn meiri – Fine! Fine! One more!