Worship of the Gods
The beauty of truth:
Whether it is good or bad,
It is liberating
Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
Chapter Two: Orenda
Loki had no intention of saving the human. Without the Bifrost's transportation, he had used his own power to traverse across the universe to save his mother. Against the consort of the council, his brother and Heimdall, he had been seething when he arrived on Midgard.
Frigga's plea, her desperation for aid triggered a part of his brain he preferred to keep muted: empathy. If he allowed his power to run riot, he would not survive the hoard of emotions every being omitted. His own feelings had been tarnished the moment he landed on the foreign realm.
Reputation tarnishing like the varnish on a beggar's money pot, Loki openly gritted his teeth as he had no choice but to allow the human to help him. He clutched Frigga tightly as they clumsily landed in the Bifrost's chamber. She slid down his side and the Midgardian subsided the floor in a impoverished, bloody heap.
Loki leered at the Aesir guards rushing towards them. Heimdall stepped down from the Bifrost's key and reached for the Queen. He was sizeable, even compared to the Kings-guard and swept Frigga into his arms fluidly. The orange glint of his eyes met the raven prince's once more.
"Where were you?" Loki cursed, grateful the weight of his mother was lifted. "You were ordered to return us to Asgard as soon as I was with the Queen." Sweat trickled down the side of his face as he watched the gatekeeper with primal intensity.
Heimdall eyed the Midgardian, his brows furrowed. "There was an interference. Something my wandering eyes could not perish," Heimdall said. "A power source."
Wrapped in his leather overcoat, the jewel hummed against Loki's skin. He could sense the rippling power. "The Alkar…" He ghosted a hand on his chest.
Heimdall watched Loki; gold eyes seeing through the prince's protective spell. "I saw the Queen had found it. I could not open the Bifrost until she got rid of the wargs. The Midgardian…" Loki considered her finally; her unconscious state on the floor. He felt repulsed. "I saw her only for a moment, in the Midgardian transport and then… nothing."
For decades, Asgardian Gods visited Midgard and wandered amongst them as story-tellers. Loki had only been there once, in disguise, listening to the stories of his father and brother. He thought Midgardian's were ambitious creatures, with little respect for one another; selfishness their most despicable trait. Emotions were the rife and ruin of them. It was why the Midgardian had wanted to help Frigga and himself.
And he despised her for it.
"Your Highness," Heimdall said. The Aesir guards around them were in a protective formation, waiting for his orders. All of them were incomprehensibly gawking at Ellie. "What shall we do with her?"
Loki detested the realisation that he had bought one of them to his homeland. They had pledged never to touch Midgard again. The emotional turmoil of the realm had caused many wars for them before. He should've left Ellie in the rotting streets of the city.
Hot with penitence, Loki could not deny her courage. His clenched his fist for a moment and then crouched. He pressed a finger to her forehead and channelled a flame of energy into her.
Ellie absorbed the warmth of his touch, opening her eyes with a slither of vitality. For a moment, the murky brown of her eyes beheld Loki's gaze. He wanted her to be frightened; covetted her to know how little she was compared to Asgard; how insignificant, childish and ignorant.
Ellie's dark eyes focused on his face. Her eyelids fluttered, opening and closing slowly. She wasn't completely herself; this would feel like a dream. The Midgardian's eyes blinked harder and distress painted her face.
A thin cry resonated from her lips. She scrambled backwards like a trapped wild animal.
"Skreyja tik!" Loki snapped, unapologetically losing his temper. Eyes blazing, he watched her struggle to stand. She gaped at the Aesir and Loki and Frigga as she slipped from the mud and blood wetting her clothes. Scraping brown handprints tattooed the golden floor. "Enough!" the Prince demanded.
Ellie glunched, suddenly feeling an urge to hiss. An insult itched inside her throat. She found her body was shivering with energy from Loki's touch. Her hearing was painful as a fresh set of footsteps entered the grand chamber. Ellie swayed, her eyes darting to plump woman storming towards them.
Loki and woman were acquainted. Quite well as Ellie saw. He grimaced at her, his straight-set shoulder sagging slightly. They began to converse in an unattainable language and Ellie could only watch Loki. He was standing awkwardly, one arm across his waist and the other hanging limply at his side.
"Hon á Miðgarði," Loki looked her over with disturbing inspection. "We must converse in British English; the contemporary form of dialect in their Northern Hemisphere."
Ellie wrapped her arms across herself, her fingers curling over the bloody sleeves. The Prince's gaze slid down her face. Her forehead was scraped open, a splodge of blood trickled down her nose. With a split lip and blood creeping around her neck, Loki could not count the number of injuries by eye. Loki noticed the quivering leg; bitten by a warg.
From his own wounds, he realised the dark magic of a warg bite was consuming her as well. She would soon perish if left unattended.
Loki pulled his eyes away from Ellie. "Where is my father?" he demanded one of the guards.
"Hunting with your brother. I shall send word," a guard said hurriedly.
Loki nodded stiffly. "Take the Queen-Mother back to the palace. Heimdall you must tell Odin what has happened this night. You must tell him of your blindness."
"I have seen Frigga's mind," Heimdall began. "I saw the girl... use..."
"Do not speak of it," Loki bit, eyeing the numerous Aesir guards around them. He glanced at his mother's limp body with a pained expression, knowing he could be of no use.
He found his neck had become stiff. His body was shutting down, forcing him to rest and heal. Taking a slow step forwards, his chest burned with pain and nausea made Loki bring a hand to his stomach. Dark magic swamped his chest and bloodied hands. It coated him like oil, making him feel filthy.
The middle-aged woman at his side had conducted an examination of the Queen-Mother and returned to Loki. She took out a fabric pouch and jostled it. Strips of material burst and manifested into a stretcher.
The Norse Prince met the middle-aged woman's eyes. She was Ingrid, the head-healer. Her crevice-deep wrinkles around her mouth and eyes deepened. "Oh, Loki," she said, "what mischief have you gotten yourself into now?
"I'll never tell," he said lightly, struggling to smile. "You know by now." His body swayed and he buckled into the stretcher that appeared in front of him. Blood pooled into the cotton material and he struggled to turn onto his back.
Ellie, numb and unable to focus, walked forwards in a zombie state. She reached Loki's side, her bleeding fingernails skimming the edge of the stretcher.
Up close, the stench of human made his nose burn. He stared up at her, taken aback by how she dared come near him in his homeland.
"Where are we?" she asked gently, peering into him like a child. "Are we – are we dead?"
The Bifrost Gateway was a domed room made of gold. The walls were intricately designed with a dozen languages that intertwined protection and harmony over Asgard. Heimdall, himself, had cast spells over the portal and no enemies had breached the city's walls in hundreds of years.
Ingrid shot the human a disordered glance. The smile dropped off her face as she watched Loki hold Ellie's gaze. Fear and panic consumed the Midgardian woman. Both Asgardians sensed her racing heartbeat, but there was a ferocious courage which kept her heart beating.
"What is your name?" Ingrid enquired. Ellie's watery gaze snapped up to Ingrid's.
Loki exhaled, his own strength slipping away. He reached up and pressed another finger to Ellie's forehead. He urged a slice of warm slumber into her conscious mind. In return, he consumed her exhaustion, fear and wonder.
Both of their eyes rolled back. Ellie slipped to the floor as Loki's outstretched hand went limp at his side.
The pair, exhausted and wounded, were then carried into the great kingdom with more unanswered questions than answers.
Ellie could not say for definite if she fainted or whether she had actually just fallen asleep quite quickly. When she awoke, she became quite aware of the bed she was lay in and a shimmering canopy above her.
She felt completely fine. Neither dizzy or sick, she lay there with a body that just felt heavy. Lord, is this your Heaven? she begged wordlessly.
The ringing in her ears began to ease. She could hear chatter, laughter and the soft clang of crockery.
"Good morning, my lady," a soft voice appeared beside her. "How are you feeling?"
Ellie jumped, cricking her neck. She groaned and squinted up at a woman. It was a beautiful woman, the very same who appeared when she first arrived... here? The woman was dressed in royal blue with a red apron over her bosom. Altogether, she appeared human. She smiled brightly, going to touch Ellie's face with a white cloth.
"What, uh, what are you doing?" she leaned away, pulling a face like a cat would if you presented it with a vegetable.
"You are sweating. I'm just going to relieve your temperature."
"My what?" she blurted.
Another woman appeared beside this one. She was elderly, with grey curly hair pulled into a bun. A realisation bubbled to Ellie's conscious mind. "Is this a hospital? Was I in an accident?"
The original woman waved her hand at the new one. "That's enough, Aslaug. Return to your station. I will care for her." Aslaug watched Ellie's face for another moment and then she was gone. Ellie looked back at the elderly lady.
"How are you feeling?" she asked once more. "I am Ingrid, one of the Aesir healers. I have been requested by the Queen-Mother to care for you."
"Where am I?" Ellie asked.
Ingrid did not appear fazed by the question. She had been informed by the prince of their Midgardian mishap. Besides, she had dealt with her fair share of concussed patients. "You are in the infirmary, Eurelia Adamson.
You've been asleep for several days. Progress is well, far more excelled than we expected. The infection is completely out of your system, but clotting is still an issue.
I must ask you to remain still for the time being and if you need help with relieving yourself, you need only ask one of the attendees."
Ellie nodded numbly. The more she woke, the more she wanted to stand and run. Her fight or flight senses were returning. Within, she felt the gears turning like someone had blown dust off of them and they were picking up speed.
"You can sleep if you wish," Ingrid gently offered. She raised a hand and a glittering orange veil appeared over Ellie's entire body.
Goosebumps prickled her skin. She watched, the orange glisten reflected in her brown irises. A yellow ripple shimmied through the see-through blanket and then Ingrid was swiping it away. It disappeared into nothing; like magic.
Ellie stared at Ingrid. "What was that?"
"I was scanning your vitals. You blood pressure is low, but with rest you shall recover. We sought to your infection, but you must sleep now, Ellie," Ingrid said. "I will retrieve an elixir for a peaceful sleep." She walked off.
Ellie craned her neck after her, pushing herself onto her elbows. She felt her muscles moan in agony. Her spine was shooting sharp stabs of pain into her head. Ellie touched temple and felt the rough bandage.
Woozy, she dragged her legs to the side of the bed and slipped out of the covers. Ellie let out a cry, nearly buckling under her weight. Her legs wobbled. She took several steps forwards and lurched against the bedside table. With the rosary wrapped safely back on, Ellie rubbed her eyes. "Worst hangover ever," she groaned.
When she was a child, she had taken the abstinence against alcohol, but university was rife with temptation and once she started drug-induced celebrations, it was hard to stop.
"I really shouldn't," she said, holding her wrist aloft.
Jane, her house-mate, who had just drank half a glass of Sambuca, grinned, and pushed the cup into her hand. "For me?" she said.
At first, Ellie imagined the Sisters were behind Jane. They were watching and waiting for her to sin so they could rain down upon her a fury which still frightened her into adulthood. There was always the cupboard; the nailed, crucifixion cupboard. And they would call her by her Saint's name.
She took the glass from Jane and drank deeply.
The soft gown crinkled over her legs. It was white, baggy and open like a pillowcase. Someone had taken her clothes; her favourite boots. One of her legs was covered in thick bandages while her thigh appeared to be stained with an odd pink bruise. Ellie gritted her teeth together as she felt a spark of pain.
As soon as her toes touched the floor, an orange veil fluttered before her. Ellie stumbled back, eyes wide and let out a yell, "whoa! Holy shit." The medical assessment magic rippled unhappily as the Midgardian drew the attention of the rest of the room.
Asgardians stared at the strange woman, baffled by her reaction and language. The Læknar, a physician, and Ingrid were baffled and at a momentary loss for words. How do they calm her down? Put her to sleep? How would they usher her back to bed?
"My lady..." Ingrid began, but a Stromkarl zoomed from behind her and towards the human. The water sprite had been attending to one of the maidens who had recently given birth. She usually occupied the court as her music soothed newborns, children and the elderly. Her gift would have been useful in calming a anxious Midgardian, she thought as she fluttered in front of Ellie.
Ellie's eyes darted around the room again. Just as she spotted a door, the fly-type object appeared; the Stromkarl appeared. Ellie swatted at the air and moved backwards. She stared around like a wild animal fighting off a bee.
The white sprite darted out of the way and hovered just out of arms reach.
"Please, my lady," it said in a high-pitched voice.
Screaming, the Ellie's eyes nearly burst from her skull.
The entire medical ward was woken by the noise and they watched the newcomer. Ingrid swallowed nervously, aware of the Kingdom's gossip and how it would definitely be exhumed by Ellie's behaviour.
Ingrid said Ellie's name again, approaching her slowly. It panicked Ellie further, she continued to swing her arms around and barrelled towards an archway.
"Someone get the guards!" Aslaug demanded in alarm. "Hurry!"
"The Guardsmen are on their way!" another voice cried. Ellie sped from the room, shooting past several men holding long weapons.
They were dazed for a heartbeat and then started for her.
"Halt!" they yelled, "in the name of the King!"
Adrenaline pumped through her faster when she realised she was being chased. Ellie rounded a corner, nearly slamming into a door. She ripped it open and bolted through several more doors. As she closed a particularly heavy one with her body slumped against it, she felt the door shake with the weight of guards clattering on the other side.
"Just… just fuck off!" she cried.
Taking off again, the building she was in became a maze. It was a labyrinth of walls and doors, and voices and gold. Everything was too bright. What on Earth was that thing she'd seen?
As Ellie hurried through a doorway, she entered a grand hall. Her head could scarcely comprehend it. The sheer size was enough to make her nauseous. Hundreds of feet high, nearly half a mile upwards as well as hundreds of feet longways. Floor patterned royal yellow, the pillars were another shade of gold and they were as thick as tree trunks.
On Ellie's right was a throne. Servants swept the ground but came to a halt when she appeared.
Ellie made a beeline for another door and heard loud voices behind her.
The guards were some distance away. Seven or eight of them, dressed in armour and holding spears. They surrounded a stout white-haired man adorned in a long azure cloak. He stormed towards her and the sight of him evoked submissive fear within her.
A far-off ringing noise, an alarm siren, made her feel dazed.
She backed up and took off running towards sunlight. Skidding out the archway, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes and fell forwards to heavily lean against a stone wall. It took a moment to adjust to the weather, but her mouth dropped open at the sight of a courtyard.
Ellie was positive she was still hallucinating when a band of horses entered the space with half a dozen limbs dangling out their underbelly. Eight, to be exact. "Oh, Mary, Joseph and Jesus."
She backed up, moving her hands before her face and turning it over. She stretched her fingers and examined her skin. It was covered in scabs and bruises. She brutually poked a dark purple one on her wrist and it stung.
A rough hand grabbed her. She whipped around and found herself staring into a sharp black eye. This man had a single eye and the other was covered by a gold patch. He released an aura of demand which nearly took Ellie to her knees.
The sinewy hand attached to her arm felt like a limpet suckered so a rock. Ellie gave a brutal yank and stumbled, finding that he was not holding on hard at all.
"And who the hell are you?" she demanded.
"I am Odin. Chief of the Aesir and King of Asgard."
Ellie was at a loss of reality's grasp. "I, uh, God…" she stuttered.
"You do not belong here," he answered.
"I mean, I woke up… here. Wherever that is and whatever it is. I don't know anything. I mean I…" And then she exhaled in defeat. "No, I don't think I do belong here."
Odin, the Allfather, stared at Ellie with a hard, calculating eye. Ellie breathed heavily, unable to keep her face blank. This King was otherworldly. From the moment Ellie laid eyes on Frigga and the monster, she knew she was entering a dimension beyond her mundane life. From the flying fairy to the golden halls, she knew she was inferior in every way.
Breaking eye contact with Odin's single eye, Ellie looked over his apparel. Rich linen: embroidered with silver symbols across the overcoat and bodice. The belt of gold matched his hose and rich silk cuffs. The square shape reminded Ellie of a tudor outfit; the annoyed shadow Odin bore was very much similar to a King's malice.
"I'm not supposed to be here," Ellie finally broke the silence. She let out a hysterical laugh, "this is completely mad and I'm very much in my own little world of Paradise, uh, Heaven? Or perhaps a dream? I mean, you can't make up faces in dreams, so I must've seen you somewhere before. Come to think of it you do look like Stan the Butcher from Camden market…"
The Captain of the guardsmen stepped towards her, a man named Lachie. He raised his spear, his knuckles white. "What purpose do you bring to Asgard?"
Ellie's eyes fell to the pointed tip of his weapon. It was primitive compared to an automatic rifle or loaded weapon. She raised her hands, looking to the face of her questioner. "You bought me here, if I remember."
"You infiltrated the mission of her Royal Highness and threatened her life." The group of soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons, returning to a protective stance. Odin stood in the middle of them all, his face unreadable.
"I saved her life," Ellie said. "Frigga, you mean? I hit that creature with my car."
"A tactic to lure the Queen into a trap. Are we meant to believe your intentions were pure? Say his Royal Highness had not showed, where would your intentions have led you? What would you have done with the objective?"
Ellie shifted her weight onto the one leg. The odds of her leaving without a spear shoved through her throat were slim. After the warg's threats, she was left with little inspiration to try and fight.
"I don't work for some Sith-lord," her voice grew. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't want to kill Frigga and I don't give a toss about your apple."
"Sith-Lord?" Lachie repeated the word slowly. He did not recognise the word, it was alien to him. Ellie's discomfort began to unfurl.
"Where's Frigga?" she demanded. "Where's Loki?"
"You are forbidden from entering the royal chambers," another warrior hissed; Baldur.
Odin raised a hand, silencing his protectors. "My son has… ordered that you to do not approach him," the Allfather said, his wrinkled features still unable to display any emotion. Ellie's stomach twisted. "My wife, however, has allowed visitation if you wish."
"Are they okay?"
As soon as the words left her lips, the King's head tilted, and his eyes narrowed. The warriors faltered slightly, glancing at Odin. The human girl's sincerity took them by surprise. "If honesty is what you are fabricating then I shall indulge," Odin offered. "I do not trust you. You hurtle through my Kingdom like a troll and I have a dozen different advisors telling me different things about your presence."
"That's quite a predicament," she murmured.
"Tis," Odin said, rather lightly. Ellie's dropped her arms at her sides, feeling her heart thudding a bit slower in her chest. "Captain, take the human to the Queen's healing chamber."
Curtly nodding, Captain Lachie flipped his spear and held it at his side. He was over six feet tall, middle aged and stern looking. Ellie peered up at him and swallowed. The captain ordered several to join him, all of them continued to hold their weapons.
Odin proceeded past Ellie. She watched him disappear down another corridor and the loud bang of a door closing followed.
"Come," Lachie ordered. Ellie hobbled after him, remaining silent as she took in her surrounding properly. Although the warriors kept straight faces, they could not help but shoot the human curious looks. Lachie was unaffected; enemy or non-enemy was all that mattered.
The corridors of Odin's Kingdom were tall, rising high into the air. Walls adorned with shimmering artwork and words unreadable by Midgardians, the portraits and landscapes wove into one another. They told stories of great adventures and heroes.
Ellie recognised Odin in one of the paintings. He was riding an eight-legged horse, a lightning bolt shot out of the stormy sky and into his outstretched arm. Around him, female and male warriors were screaming their war-cries. The artist was gifted. Ellie could see each wrinkle and pore. She slowed and reached a hand.
Lachie grunted, taking Ellie's attention from the artwork. She winced, her leg beginning to ache more as she pulled her arm back and continued after him.
They arrived at the edge of a large hallway. On either side of a set of double doors were curved, black marble staircases. Soldiers stood on the balcony above, their hardened gazes on Ellie. She swallowed as they raised their arms, pulling back the bow string with sharp arrows pointing at her heart.
"Captain," a deep voice called. Ellie's eyes dropped to a huge figure appearing from the double doors. Over six and a half feet tall, with shining blond hair and red armour; he was startling.
"Prince Thor," Lachie greeted.
Ellie's breathing shallowed as the word struck a chord in her chest. Such familiarity and yet none of the puzzle pieces were fitting together. Her head began to ache as she tried to match the man's name to fact.
Nothing.
"Mother is waiting for the human girl," Thor's voice was deep and smooth. His eyes slid over the Captain and to Ellie. "What is your name?"
"Ellie," she stuttered. "Ellie Adamson, uh, your Highness."
"Your exploits are proving troublesome to reign in, Ellie Adams," Thor said. He crossed his arms across his chest and Ellie watched the gigantic muscles tense and clench. Surely, he could crush a skull with one of them. "Screaming murder out of the medical sanctuary, speaking out of term against my father and staining the halls with your blood."
His bright blue eyes fell to her wounded leg and she followed his gaze. The bandages were turning scarlet. Ellie's cheeks burned. "I did not mean to. I'm just a bit… out of my depth here."
"Indeed," Thor muttered, focusing on the human's face. "Of course, if you cause anymore gossip to spread like fire then the only way to deal with contamination is to take out the match."
Ellie gasped, her eyes wide with fear. She blubbered a string of words incoherent, even to herself. Thor's stern face erupted into a large grin. He began barking with laughter, a joy which lit up his entire face.
Lachie began snickering, his posture relaxed. Thor clamped a hand on the Captain's shoulder, eyes dancing with amusement.
"All this negativity on such a shining day, Captain!" he boomed. "Let the light flood your veins! You're warriors; not mourners." On command, the other soldiers unwound their tense muscles and allowed grins to crawl onto their faces. Out of the entire royal household, Thor's ability to land a joke, even in death, was remarkable.
"Quite right, Sire," Lachie grinned. "Give it to the girl; she can run."
"Hundreds of years training and you got stitch chasing a Midgardian child?"
Lachie scoffed, "I was enjoying a wild leaf stew at the time. Completely ruined my supper, Sire."
"Can't scold you too much, then. Sprinting from the healing chamber to the throne room is an achievement." Thor's words made Lachie shake his head in ridicule. The two exchanged several words in a foreign language.
Ellie shuffled behind the Captain, swaying slightly with ache. Thor and Lachie finally stopped conversing and Thor leaned towards Ellie, bending his knees slightly. Ellie felt like a child being scolded. "If it turns out you're not a manipulative little traitor sent to destroy every soul in this Kingdom, perhaps we'll have a race of our own," he said. Despite the light-hearted tone, she sensed her doom teetered on the edge of a very sharp knife.
Thor bid them farewell and disappeared in search of his father. Ellie continued after Lachie and followed him through the double doors.
"My Lady," Lachie said, "the Midgardian."
Ellie entered the wondrous room and was lost once again in the royalty of Odin's Kingdom. The room was round, with a dome ceiling covered in hanging chandeliers. Lights sparkled, despite there being no open curtains or natural sun.
A large bed was situated in the middle of the room, with half a dozen healers dotted around it. Frigga sat upright, watching Ellie with unexplainable curiosity. Unsure of what to do, Ellie meekly hampered up to the bed. Should she bow? Or curtsy?
"Ellie," Frigga's voice was silky, making Ellie relax. "It is a pleasure to see you again."
"Likewise," she answered awkwardly, trying to sound polite, "your Highness."
Frigga's beautiful face looked worn, even with a returning olive-toned shine. The dark half-moon shapes under her eyes were nearly purple. Her red curls were pinned up, out of the way of the bandages peeking across her collarbone.
The Queen gently flicked her hand; dismissing the healers. When they were alone, she beckoned for Ellie to take the armchair beside her.
Ellie slumped into the soft material and exhaled loudly.
"I suppose you are exceptionally confused," Frigga said, her gaze flickering across Ellie's exhausted form. "The feeling of being stranded on a world that is not your own can be… consuming."
Frigga was expressing how she felt that night. Ellie could scarcely imagine how she would have felt if she'd awoken this morning to a demon-world, full of wargs and macabre creatures. She chewed the inside of her cheek.
"I doubt the Allfather was welcoming," she continued, "he's always been a fierce protector of his Kingdom and of me. That's why I asked you here, against my husband's wishes. Despite the rumours, the gossip and speculation; only two know the truth of what happened on Midgard."
Ellie watched Frigga intensely. "Me and you," she murmured.
Frigga nodded. "Perhaps you are a spy. Perhaps you have plans to poison a goblet or bring Hel to Asgard."
"I don't," Ellie started, her voice quivering, "I really just want to go home."
Frigga glossed over the plea. Ellie felt more lost than ever. "You know what happened on your planet, Ellie. You used Alkar and channelled enough energy to harness a hidden power."
Memories flashes in her mind. The guttural growl of the warg, the slam of her car and the screaming. Ellie leaned forwards, her hand to her mouth. "I killed something," she whispered. "More than one. I murdered two of those things."
"Death shouldn't be such a frightening concept, child."
"It is to me. How do I have the right to kill something? I was so… inhumane." Or was she? The wargs would've ripped Frigga apart and Ellie as well if she'd have hung around for long enough. If she'd have ran off the bridge, the wargs would've followed her and massacred London. "No, I'm not," Ellie groaned and squeezed her eyes together, "but I don't understand any of this, Frigga."
Frigga's voice was vehement for the following conversation. The quip of her tongue and knowledge hooked Ellie by the throat and dragged her into the depths of a universe that only lived in history books. Ellie's eyes widened in disbelief and her face contorted with each fact.
Frigga animatedly explained how the universe was a central tree called Yggdrasil. There were Nine Worlds and human beings were created from a being name Ymir.
Frigga's eyes glazed over with wonderous knowledge as she relived her past. She explained that Odin was the son of a giantess and it was Odin's ancestors who created Midgard and built mountains from the bones of Ymir. He then used Ymir's skull to create the heavens, and the sparks became the suns and moons.
Asgard was created above Midgard, with a Bifrost used to watch the Nine Worlds prosper. Heimdall was the gatekeeper and his eyes burned with the fire of a sun.
Asgardians were a race of Aesir; strong and authoritative humanoids with the power of Gods. They had been worshiped by humans for hundreds of years, but Odin retracted his presence from the planet as they became a selfish species. Frigga warned Ellie that Odin would remain uncaring to her, as one human suffers the incoherence's of their race.
Frigga watched Ellie rise from the chair and stumble into the bathroom.
Inside, Ellie steadied herself against the basin. She exhaled a long breath and fought to inhale with a form of normality. It was too warm; the heat was overpowering.
Turning the tap handle, she splashed cool water onto her face and lifted it up to stare at herself in the mirror. Water had spoiled her hair, it dripped down her face and caked her eyelashes. Through the slight blur, she gripped the firm frame.
The mirror was abstract. It existed as a type of thing. Ellie knew that it had to be real.
However, its concrete classification was: I am looking into a mirror on a wall, which is part of a castle, which is part of a city from a myth.
Ellie curled her fingers into the glass, feeling her nails bend. Norse mythology. The Christianisation of Scandinavia and Northern Germanic folklore had erased truth.
Heavenly Father, what am I to do with this?
Or was it some profound hallucination coming to haunt her. If this had of happened several years ago, then it would have been understandable. Philosophy students were renowned for dosing themselves up with hallucinogenic and Ellie was not one of the saints she used to study. Hell, even they were hooked up on drugs.
She nervously entered the Queen's chamber again and sat down, oddly pale and sweating.
"So," Ellie began, "what does this all mean for me? I hope you're not expecting me to go back and start chanting about Norse mythology on a soap box."
"This world is made from the bodies of Gods, Eurelia. The love and kindness, but also the cruelty and malice lives around us. Sometimes the Nine Worlds are consumed by evil and there is very little we can do to return it to the light.
When our paths crossed, I was on a mission to collect Àlkar. It is the life force of Alfheim, the realm of the light elves. It had been hidden on Vanaheim for a long time. As soon as the wargs sensed its existence, they came for it. I panicked and fell through a portal into your world; into Midgard."
Silence fell upon the room Ellie waited several moments before speaking. "So," she said quietly, "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Were you?"
Ellie's eyes snapped to Frigga's, the breath nearly disappearing from her lungs as she had always found her existence a confusing and overbearing thing. "I had to have been," she said. "I'm no one. I'm a curator for an Aristotle exhibition. I'm nothing."
Frigga leaned back into her pillows, beginning to look weary. She was healing, surely weak and would need to rest completely soon. The Queen gave her a gentle smile, "yet, you're here."
References
Norse Curse words
- Skreyja– incompetent
- Tik– dog
- Orenda – (n.) a mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world, or to effect change in their own lives.