Magician of Asgard

by Snapegirlkmf

The story of Loki as you've never heard it before! In his own words, this is the truth behind the legendary magician and trickster god of Norse myth! This is an AU retelling of the Norse god Loki and does NOT follow most of the original myths so don't expect things to be the same as in the original stories.

4. Truth and Myth

Truth and Myth

A/N: This chapter is long, but I wanted to put most of the legends in a single chapter here, so please read them, some of them are extremely funny as Loki tells them!

I was around eight centuries or so when Belle came to me, by Asgard's time, that is.
Time in Asgard flows differently than in Midgard, a year in the mortal realm is equal to
maybe a few minutes in my homeland. I had already most of those adventures the skalds tell
by then, like getting back Thor's magic hammer, Mjolnir, from the giants, and getting spun
gold from the dwarves to replace Sif's hair, which I'd cut off because she'd said she'd rather
be bald than marry me. Sif's always been a spoiled brat, but I felt bad afterward and agreed
to replace her hair with a golden wig that would make her the envy of every other lady in
Asgard. (It was). She then offered to marry me, but I refused, not wanting to shackle myself
to such a fickle brat. She married Thor instead, don't ask me why. Maybe because she
knows all she has to do is flutter her eyelashes and he'll give her whatever she wants. That
wouldn't work on me.

In fact, most of the great treasures of the Aesir were gotten for them by me. I stole
Brisengamen, Freya's magical girdle of beauty, from the fire giants of Muspelheim. I also
tricked the dwarf smith Dvalin into wagering Mjolnir, won Frey a magical boat in a game
of cards with the hag Thryll, and gave birth to Sleipnir, Odin's eight-legged horse. Yes, you
heard me. I gave birth to a magical horse.

One of my big talents is shape shifting. I can change myself into just about any
animal I want. Except I don't do birds much, because flying makes me sick. Once I shift
back from bird shape, I puke my guts up. Embarrassing as hell. But it only happens when
I use my own power to transform to a bird. Using something else, such as Freya's falcon
cloak, doesn't affect me that way. Why? Haven't got a clue.

But back to the Sleipnir incident. That happened way back when I was a young and
arrogant magician and desperate to prove myself to my mother's Aesir relatives. I'd spent
my youth honing my powers in secret in the forest on the border between two kingdoms, but
I was getting lonely and I wanted, the same way everyone does, to belong somewhere. But
I didn't know the names of my father and could hardly march up to Odin and the rest of the
noble Aesir and announce that I was their long-lost relative. For one thing, who'd believe
me? For another, I had too much pride to throw myself upon the mercy of an Aesir lord like
that. So I resolved to do something to impress them, so they'd invite me into Valhalla as one
of them.

Now, Odin was trying to build a huge wall around Valhalla and its surroundings to
keep out the damn giants who were continually raiding from Jotunheim, carrying off sheep,
cattle, and pretty Aesir maidens. They ate the sheep and cattle, knocked up the maids, and
then demanded Odin pay them tribute to cross into their land to trade with them to boot.
Some nerve, huh? Odin put his head together with Thor and some of the other Aesir warriors
and came up with brilliant solution of building—you guessed it- a wall! And it only took
them six months before they came up with that gem. Must have been a world record.

Anyway, Odin said let's build a wall fellows, but he forgot that his Aesir lords
weren't builders and had no clue how to build a sandcastle, let alone a wall capable keeping
giants out. The top builder at the time was a fire giant named Snorri, and he and his great
stallion, Svladfari, were known through Asgard. They'd worked for the Aesir before,
building Valhalla and some of the other immortals' homes. But their work didn't come
cheap. To build the wall about Valhalla, Snorri demanded Odin give him the power of the
sun and the moon and throw the beauteous Freya, Goddess of Love and Beauty, into the
bargain.

Freya had hysterics, absolutely refused to even kiss Snorri, and said the only way the
fire giant was going to have his way with her was over her dead body. Or was that with her
dead body? Anyhow, you get the point. Odin was between a rock and a hard place then.
No Freya meant no wall and the raiding continued. He tried to make a deal with Snorri, but
he's not as clever as I am, and only managed to get the giant to agree to a time limit. If
Snorri didn't finish the wall within three months, he wouldn't get paid and the Aesir would
have their wall anyhow. But if he finished before time, he would get all he'd asked for in
the first place.

The bargain was struck in front of witnesses, and the fire giant began his work. A
month went by and Snorri was halfway done, he worked day and night, assisted by his
faithful steed, who could nudge stones into place with his back hooves. Odin was ripping
out his beard, Thor was getting drunk, and Freya spent half her time cursing everyone and
the other half threatening to commit suicide. It was a real mess.

Enter yours truly. I'd heard all about this wager, of course, for it was common
knowledge up and down Asgard. And a blind idiot could tell that Odin had been tricked
royally. Snorri was going to finish the wall in under three months the way things were
going. And then he'd end up with magic he shouldn't have in the first place and poor Freya
would hang herself. Now I've always had a soft spot for women, especially pretty ones, and
I couldn't let sweet Freya become a giant's corpse bride. Not to mention that this was the
perfect opportunity to win a place for myself among my relatives.

So I came into the hall at Valhalla and told Odin I could help him out with his giant
problem. The other Aesir thought that was hilarious. "You're gonna help us deal with
Snorri? A little fellow like you?" snickered Thor. "What are you gonna do to him, step on
his toes and ask him to go home, pretty please?"

"He'd use you for a toothpick, Firehair!" brayed Tyr.

"My name's Loki," I snapped. "And I have something none of you brutes have."

"What's that, a smart mouth?" demanded Modi.

"Magic. And a brain bigger than the size of a pea," I informed him with a smirk.

"You calling me an idiot, pipsqueak?" Modi growled.

"Now why would I do that? You're doing just fine on your own," I shot back. "Do
you always insult yourself like this? How sad!"

"I'm gonna tie that tongue of yours in knots, boy."

"You mean the way yours is from using all those big words?" I sneered. "I was using
four syllable words when I was six, you dimwitted drunken offspring of a diseased dragon's
ass." Ha! Bet you can't say that six times really fast.

By this time Modi's eyes were bugging out, Thor was scratching his head, and Tyr
wanted to know what a diseased dragon had to do with anything. You see what I've had to
put up with? It's enough to give me hives. Odin, however, was laughing into his sleeve.

Before Modi could squash me into the floor, Odin held up a hand. "Modi, leave him
be. You can pound the snot out of him if he doesn't figure out a way to keep Snorri from
finishing that wall. Until then, keep your hands off." Then he looked at me shrewdly.
"Here's my offer to you, Loki the son of Nobody. Stop the giant from finishing his work and
I'll grant you any favor you want. You've got two months to come up with something. Fail
and I let Modi and the rest of them make mincemeat out of you, you insolent little scamp."

I narrowed my eyes. "You did say anything, didn't you, my lord?"

"Within reason," Odin revised hastily. "I won't give my throne up for you or
anything like that. And no asking for Freya either, she's not in the mood to be anybody's
trophy wife."

"Too bad. I wouldn't have minded a night or two with the little wildcat," I sighed,
for that thought had crossed my mind. But I wasn't ready for a wife, even one as gorgeous
as Freya. Women like that are always too demanding. "Don't worry, I'll think up a suitable
reward for my services."

"Better worry about how you're going to fix Snorri, little warlock," Modi said with
a snort. "Or else your ass is mine. And I'm gonna love kicking it from one end of Asgard
to the other."

"Right. I'm going to make you eat those words, Modi Thorsson. Just wait. My
magic is a match for any giant any day of the week."

After that I decided it was time to leave, before my quick tongue got me into more
trouble. So I headed out to the wall to observe Snorri and see if I could get him to reveal any
secrets.

I made myself look younger and smaller than I was, about ten years old, because I
had learned long ago that adults will tell children just about anything because they think kids
can't figure out things for themselves.

"Hey, Mister!" I yelled up to the sweating giant. "How'd you build this wall so
fast?"

Snorri patted another boulder into place before he glanced down at me. He was
about ten feet tall and built like a mountain. And he smelled like a dungheap. It was all I
could do not to gag. "Go play somewhere else, kid. I'm busy."

I hopped up on a stack of rocks, and gave him my most pleading look. "But I want
to watch you. Please can't I stay?"

"I'm no babyminder," Snorri grumbled. "Don't you have chores to do or something?"

"Not really. Watching you is much more interesting than milking goats. How do you
lift all those big rocks so fast? And lay them so neat on top of each other? I think it's really
amazing. I want to be just like you when I grow up," I prattled, hero-worship dripping from
my tongue.

Snorri ate it up like a cat lapping up cream. "You're kinda skinny to lift rocks like
this yet, kid. But maybe when you're older . . ."

"But how do you get all of these rocks in the first place?"

"Well, I have the help of my horse over there, Svladfari. He carts the stones from
the quarry over here and then he helps me place them. He's worth ten ordinary workers and
I couldn't do without him. He's the reason I can get this wall up so fast. He's gonna make
me a rich man and win me a bride too."

Easy as taking candy from a baby, I thought. Now all I had to do was come up with
a way to put the horse out of commission. There were several ways I could do this. One
way was to hamstring him, making him too lame to drag the stones. Another way was to
make him too sick to work. Colic is a common ailment among horses and the quickest way
to put a horse down.

But I couldn't bear to do something like that to the magnificent animal. I love horses
and cutting a hamstring would lame him permanently, then Snorri would probably put him
down. And colic killed a horse slowly and painfully. The big stallion didn't deserve to die.
I mean, he never asked to build a wall around Valhalla.

Then I thought about stealing him, only I had no way of hiding a horse that big and
I wasn't too sure if I could control him once I did have him. He was a giant's mount, after
all. I bit my lip and pondered. What would serve as a distraction to a horse?

Food, certainly. But too much food would make him colic. And once it was gone
he would return to his master. Then I recalled Snorri's comment about getting a bride.
What about a mare? I've never known a stallion yet who wouldn't follow a mare in season
anywhere.

So back I went to Valhalla to the stables to find a mare in season. Only there were
no mares in heat at that time. And horses don't come into season but twice a year. It was
the wrong time. I cursed angrily. The plan was perfect except for that one drawback. If
only . . .

It was then that I had my brilliant idea to shift myself into a mare. One who was in
heat, and who then could lead Snorri's stallion a merry dance through the meadows of
Asgard. I'd distract him so well he'd forget he ever knew Snorri, I vowed.

Which is exactly what I did. But my trick worked too well. For there is a law
concerning shape shifting. The longer you wear a shape, the harder it is to switch back to
your true form. I knew the dangers of remaining in a shape too long, but in my haste to win
my wager, I ignored them.

I spent so much time as a mare enticing Snorri's stallion that I momentarily lost
myself in mare shape and once that happened I let the stallion mate with me. Not what I'd
intended at all, but it's very hard to resist certain urges when you're an animal. The instinct
to procreate is overwhelming, and the stallion was eager and I was available. . . . enough said
on that subject.

By the time I regained control of my senses, the three months were up and thanks to
my equine charms, Snorri wasn't done building the wall. So he had to forfeit Freya and the
power of the sun and the moon and build the wall for free. I allowed his stallion to go back
and help him, since I'd done what I'd set out to do.

But when I went to change back to my normal form, I learned that I was pregnant.
Apparently a giant's horse is very fertile. I didn't know what would happen if I changed
back into a man in that condition, it went against the laws of nature for a man to be pregnant,
and I might kill myself trying to regain my real form. I had been undone by my own
cleverness.

So I was stuck in mare's shape until I delivered this foal. If I could have cried, I
would have. But there was no help for it. My own arrogance had done this to me and now
I was going to have to suck up and deal with it. Now I didn't want anyone at Valhalla to
know how stupid I'd been, so I ran far away from there, going west into Vanir country.

There I stayed for months until I birthed the magical steed called Sleipner. That was
one ordeal I swear by all my ancestors I'll never repeat. Even now I get shivers recalling it.
It left me with a lifelong respect for women, I'll tell you, and I'm probably the only man on
the planet who knows exactly how painful being in labor is. I was alone when I gave birth,
and I can recall begging someone to kill me, and wishing I were mortal so I could die and
end it all.

But I survived and I had a sturdy eight-legged colt. He was born like that because
he was the offspring of a giant stallion and a magically changed magician. Sleipnir could
run on water and air as well as land and he was nearly tireless. He was a steel gray in color
and very handsome.

Once I'd recovered from the birth I changed back to my true form and fed the little
octaped with a bottle. He didn't take it too well at first, but I was damned if I was going to
nurse him too. When he was nearly weaned, I returned to Valhalla to collect my reward.

Odin and I swore an oath of blood brotherhood and I became an official member of
the Aesir. As a gift, I gave him Sleipnir. Odin loved him and he never asked where I got
him, thank all the stars. Best of all, my feisty colt kicked Modi's ass all over Valhalla when
the stupid oaf called me a two-bit trickster son of a dog. Nobody talks like that about
Sleipnir's mother and gets away with it. I never laughed so hard as I did that day. Just
seeing Modi get what he deserved made all the pain I'd gone through worthwhile.

Why then didn't I use my powers to change shape when I acquired little Belle, you
ask? First because my talent is only good for shifting into animal form and second because
the only way I'd be able to nurse a baby as a woman would be if I'd just given birth and
there is no way in nine hells I'd ever go through that again. Once was plenty for this
immortal's lifetime.

I told that story to Belle when she was older to illustrate the dangers of shapeshifting,
and she thought it the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Though she promised me on her
immortal name she'd never reveal it to anyone. Somehow mortals found out though. I guess
it's true what they say—you can't keep a juicy bit of gossip down.

Incidentally, that legend happens to be true, though most of the stories humans tell
about me are exaggerated or just plain wrong. It's a skald's license to embellish, embroider,
and in some cases, just make up stories. I don't really mind, since some of the additions
they invent to my life are pretty amusing. And the best ones always have a grain of truth to
them, like a good lie. But there are a few legends that are pure fabrication and do some
serious harm to my reputation. Now those I do take offense at, and have long since punished
the idiots responsible for spreading them. I cursed their tongues so all they can do is stutter
and when they do manage to get a sentence out, all they can speak is the truth. So let me set
the record straight about a few things. After all, I'm the Master of Mischief, not Murder!

The biggest blow to my reputation is the Baldur story, the one that paints me as the
murderer of Odin's golden boy, Baldur. But I'll get to that later. Remember when I
mentioned that I had no wife? That was true. I've never been married. Guess that must have
offended some skald's sense of symmetry or whatever, because now they've gone and given
me not one, but three wives! Hopping hells, I could never handle that many at one time. I'm
good, but not that good. And as I told you before, marriage scares the blazes out of me.

Don't get me wrong, I like women fine, but as lovers only. I live alone, or at least
I did before Belle came. But the legends say that my first wife was called Glut and she bore
me two daughters. Not last time I checked. I wouldn't have gone to sleep in that little
terror's bed if you paid me all the gold in Fafnir the dragon's horde. No man in Asgard
would. Glut—whose name means Fiery in Norse—is the red-haired, pretty, nasty daughter
of a minor Aesir lord. She's got the temper of a dragon and is selfish, spoiled, and utterly
lazy. Her father spent years trying to marry her off to someone, anyone, but even Heimdall
wasn't stupid enough to take her on. She's a little bitch, and the only woman I've ever lifted
a hand to in eight centuries.

Here is how that came about. As I said, Glut's father was desperately trying to rid
himself of the hellion, but no one was taking the bait. I hadn't been up to Valhalla in a good
half a year or so, though I knew all the gossip. So I showed up for dinner one day and the
little snip pegged me as an easy mark. I was the only one at the table she hadn't had a
chance to practice her wiles on.

But I was wise to her schemes and I utterly ignored her. Now Glut hates being
ignored more than anything. She loves being the center of attention. My giving her the cold
shoulder really irritated her. So she decided to teach me a lesson.

Everyone in the hall knows I don't drink much. When I'm drunk my magic goes
crazy and since I hate not being in control of anything, I rarely have more than three horns
of mead during the course of an evening. Aesir mead is potent stuff! That night, though, the
deceitful witch drugged my third horn with a strong sleeping potion. I passed right out in
the middle of a sentence.

Somebody put me to bed, probably Odin, in one of the guest rooms, leaving me to
sleep it off. That was when the sly minx put stage two of her plan into action. Since no man
would willingly marry her, she resolved to make me an unwilling groom. She jumped into
bed with me, ripped her clothes, tore her hair and made it look as if we'd been having a good
romp in bed. Then she went to sleep.

Next morning a servant came to see how I was feeling and discovered me and Glut
between the sheets together. To add insult to injury, the innocent maid started screaming
that I'd raped her. Now her scream could wake the dead, and it woke me up like a hot
poker.

Now I've never forced any woman in my life, and the Norns bear witness the last
woman I'd want in my bed was Glut. But the way things looked, I'd been caught with my
hand in the honey jar. Her father and some of the others came in to gape, then she ran to
papa and started sobbing that since I'd compromised her now I had to do the honorable thing
and marry her.

"Not bloody likely!" I cried, clearing the last fumes of the drugged mead from my
head. "Odin, I never touched her. I swear by the Norns."

"You did! You did!" Glut shrieked, pointing to her ripped nightgown. "You were
drunk, so you can't remember." She began to sob piteously.

"Lady, I might have been drunk, but I assure you I'd have remembered taking you
to bed." I said, my eyes flashing. "I don't sleep with scorpions."

"Oh, you vile lying bastard!" she cried, and tried to scratch my face with her nails.

I caught her hands and twisted them behind her back and hissed in her ear, "Quit screwing
around, you scheming bitch, and tell them the truth, before you make me lose my temper."

She spat in my face. "Papa! He says he won't marry me!"

"Oh yes, you will! You're not gonna bed my daughter and get off so easy, Master
Mischief. You marry her or else I'm going to cut off your head with this here axe." Glut's
father blustered.

"Good. Because I'd rather be dead than shackled to a scheming selfish brat like this
for the rest of my life," I cried. That floored him.

Then I turned to Glut, who was still trying to fight free of my grip. "Stop squirming,
you wretched brat. I was too drunk last night to put myself to bed, as far as I can remember.
Does everyone agree to that?" I cast a look around at Odin.

"He's right. I carried him here and he was snoring like the giant Skrymir. Dead to
the world." Odin confirmed.

"Funny isn't it, that I managed to get drunk on just three horns of mead?" I
continued. "I don't drink, but even I can handle a few toasts. But I was passed out by the
third round. I wonder what was in that mead?" Glut was white now and trying to kick me.
I pinned her foot with my ankle and shook her. "Be still, or I'll bind you with magic."

"Unhand my daughter, you barbarian!" her father cried.

"In a minute, with pleasure," I snapped. "Odin, did anyone else pass out like that
afterwards? No? I didn't think so. Send a servant to fetch the horn I was using. I'm sure it's
still lying where I dropped it on the table."

The horn was fetched and, just as I'd thought, there was a white residue of poppy
powder on the bottom. I displayed it for all to see and told them what it was. "So then, lords
and ladies, there I was drugged to my eyeballs, and yet I managed to rouse myself enough
to drag this screeching wildcat into my bed and have my wicked way with her. Look, I can
barely hold onto her now the way she's fighting, and I'm sober. D'you really think I could
do so drunk and filled with poppy? Not to mention that all of us know that strong drink
renders a man incapable of performing in bed." I shot a triumphant grin at Glut, who was
staring at me in horror.

"Ah, didn't know that, did you, princess? Should have done your homework, you lazy
child," I tisked at her. "Therefore, it would have been impossible for me to have done as she
claims. Wouldn't you agree, my lords?"

Slowly, the other Aesir nodded.

Glut burst into tears. "Papa, he's lying! He woke up as I was passing by and he
grabbed me and he raped me!"

"Nice performance, girl, but it won't fly." I sneered. I gestured at myself. "If I
hauled you in here and raped you, how come I've still got my pants on?"

Some of the women began to snicker, and I knew I had won. But I was furious as
hell. I glared right back at Glut's father, who was turning the color of old cheese. "Odin,"
I said in my sweetest, most deadly tone. "Wouldn't you say that I'm the victim of a cruel
joke here? This witch here drugged me and then set me up by climbing into bed with me and
crying rape so I'd be forced into marrying her. And her father went along with it, since he
can't stand her and wants to be rid of her. I claim reparation for this niding's deed, this stain
upon my honor."

Odin was smirking. "Granted, Loki."

Glut's father was sputtering in horror. "But-but Odin, I had nothing to do with it! It
was all her idea! I didn't even know Loki was here last night."

"Papa, how could you!" his darling shrieked.

"Shut up, you stupid sow!" he bellowed. "This is all your fault. He could beggar me
now, and for what? Norns, why was I ever cursed with such a wretched child?" he moaned.

Now by Aesir law I could demand he pay me a share of gold equal to my outraged
dignity and he'd have no choice but to give it to me. But I didn't want money. "Are you
saying you had no knowledge of her activities, Haldir?" I pressed.

"None whatsoever, Loki. I swear it upon the World Tree."

"Then I absolve you of her guilt in this crime," I said magnanimously. "Which
means you and you alone get to pay the consequences of your actions, lady."

I gave her my best wolfish grin.

She wilted and began whining, "No! Papa, save me! Don't let him turn me into
anything unnatural."

Haldir winced. "Loki, please . . ."

"Turn you into something? I'd say you were already too many things, girl. A hag,
a shrew, and a man's worst nightmare. Even my magic can't compete with that," I said and
the others chuckled loudly. "Do you admit you drugged me and lied about everything?"

"Yes!" she pouted. "I made it all up. I'm sorry, Loki. Now will you let me go?"

"Oh no, princess. Sorry isn't enough this time. You might cozen your father like
that, but not me. This time you're going to get exactly what you deserve." I glanced at
Haldir. "Have I permission to punish your daughter, sir?"

"Yes, but no magic and no killing, I beg of you."

"Agreed." Then I hauled her over my knee and gave her the spanking of her life. She
fought and bit at me, but I was stronger and I didn't scruple to use my strength to pin her
down. I gave her about ten whacks, and after each one I listed some crime she was guilty
of. The Aesir watching were quite pleased with my justice, for all of them had been wanting
to do something like that for ages, but hadn't dared because of Haldir.

By the time I was done, they were laughing fit to die and even Haldir looked pleased
as punch. The only one who wasn't amused was Glut, who was bawling her pretty head off,
for real this time. I picked her up and set her before me. "Now then, young lady, might I
suggest you think twice before trying to play a nasty trick like that again on the Master of
Mischief?" I said sternly. "Because I always get even."

"I hate you, Loki!" she sobbed.

"Join the club, lady," I laughed, then shoved her toward her father. "Haldir, here's
your daughter. You know, you'd have saved yourself a lot of embarrassment if you'd done
that about ten years ago, man."

"I know. Thank you, Loki." Then he took his witch of a daughter back home, where
she remains to this day. Only she's more agreeable now thanks to my discipline, or so
Haldir informed me one day.

Wife number two according to the sagas is Angerboda, a giantess witch. Who picks
her teeth with human finger bones and eats bread made of their blood. Utterly revolting!
Now there are some really sweet looking giantesses, but Angerboda is not one of them. She
put the 'Ugh" in ugly. Her face looks worse than a toad's warty behind and the day I marry
her is the day I put out my eyes. Fenris' teeth, but couldn't they at least let me marry
somebody gorgeous, like maybe Freya? No, instead I get the Old Hag of the Mountain.
Thanks, it's always nice to be appreciated.

To add insult to injury they not only have me marrying her, but siring monsters with
her! As if! Looking at Angerboda fully clothed makes me want to faint, if she ever got naked
I think I might have a nervous breakdown. Want to know the names of our three children
according to popular rumor? Jorgmunder the Midgard Serpent, Fenris Wolf, and Hel, Queen
of the Dead.

Sure, blame me for all the world's ills. Why not throw in the Black Death and taxes
too while you're at it? Actually, I'm only responsible for one of those horrors. The other two
I had nothing to do with.

Jorgmunder, the Midgard Serpent, was an experiment of mine gone terribly wrong.
That much I'll take the blame for. I was experimenting with some new growth potion, trying
to increase the size of Odin's sheep and cattle. To test it, I fed some to a little water snake
I'd had in a small tank. He wasn't venomous, and he had nice looking rainbowed scales and
ate shrimp. The potion worked great. The first day the snake tripled in size. I started
feeding it mackerel. By the end of the week it was twenty feet long and I had to keep it
outside in a huge aquarium and feed it tuna. In a month it was some sixty feet long, as thick
as my body, and it didn't look as if it would ever stop growing. Or eating. It had an appetite
to rival ten giants.

I tried to reverse the potion, but by then it was too late. Jorgmunder had the magic
infused into its very bones and I couldn't remove it. It had also slowed its aging down until
it was almost immortal. And it was quickly outgrowing its aquarium and because it was
cramped it began to turn nasty.

So I did what I could to make the huge serpent happy. It was my fault it was like this
in the first place, so the least I could do was to find it a place where its size wouldn't be a
handicap and where it could get all the food it needed.

So I took it to Midgard and set it free in the ocean. Problem solved, right?

Well, sort of. Once in the sea, Jorgmunder grew to an unheard of one hundred and
fifty feet long and feasted on whales, seals, and the unfortunate ship that happened by. It
once ate an entire fleet of Viking longboats for a snack. I'm sure the Irish peasants that were
going to be raided thanked God that day. But on the whole, Jorgmunder isn't such a bad
creature, only eternally hungry, though as a snake it only needs to eat about once a week.
The rest of the time it spends napping at the bottom of the sea or swimming in the swift
arctic current.

Thor's tangled with the giant serpent a time or two, trying to prove he's the strongest
wrestler on Midgard or something. He lost. Big surprise. Jorgmunder's a constrictor, and
its coils exert a tremendous amount of pressure. To save his precious dignity, Thor the
Brave now claims one day he's going to whack Jorgmunder in the head with Mjolnir and
make himself a new pair of boots from its skin and a purse for Sif and a cloak too. Seems
kind of ridiculous when you think about it. The snake never did anything to him. Then
again, this is Thor. Need I say more?

Fenris Wolf was the result of the troll-wife Jarnvidja's breeding program to make a
wolf capable of slaying an immortal. It worked too damn well, I'm afraid. Fenris is the size
of a plow horse and has teeth the size of swords and a temper to match. Jarnvidja's fed him
on human flesh to make him savage, as if he needed the encouragement!

Though he's not much of a threat at the moment, since Odin captured him after his
last rampage through Asgard and has him chained to a rock in Muspelheim, where he howls
all night and gives the fire giants and salamanders insomnia. Fenris can't get free of the
golden chain that binds him, since it's a magical one made by everyone's favorite magician.
Another thing I never get credit for. Instead the skalds give Tyr—that preening son of a
goat—credit for leashing the giant wolf. Ha! First time Tyr caught sight of those teeth he
wet himself.

I know, I was there as his backup. It was left to me to sing the crazed beast to sleep
with one of my enchanted lullabyes, then sneak up and put the chain about his neck. I could
have become wolf chowder, not that anyone gave a damn so long as the beast was chained.
Tyr watched from behind a rock, shaking in his boots like a little girl. When we returned
to Valhalla, he got drunk and cut off his hand with an axe trying to demonstrate how he'd
fought his way past Fenris' jaws. And they say I'm a liar.

As for Hel being my daughter, well, we are related in a way. Distant cousins or
something on my mother's side. Her mother is Angerboda (poor thing!), but her father, like
mine, didn't choose to stick around and claim her as his child. I can't really blame the
fellow, it was probably all he could do to sleep with her mother. I wonder if he made her
wear a bag over her face? Or maybe he wore a blindfold. But Hel's a goddess in her own
right and doesn't need a man to prop up her legend any. She didn't inherit her mother's
looks, fortunately, but her eyes can freeze your bones when she's mad at you.

She used to be my apprentice though, which is probably how that rumor got started.
She still respects me as her mentor and on occasion will ask my advice, but that's as far as
it goes.

My third wife was supposed to be Sigyn and her I actually did have a relationship
with. She was my mistress for nearly a century and we had a very good time together. She
even moved into my house for a bit. It was more convenient that way. Sigyn was a fresh
faced blond who could sing and play the harp and enjoyed riding (horses and one lucky
magician). She was sweet and gentle, the exact opposite of shrewish Glut. We made each
other happy for a long time, but in the end I had to break it off because she was becoming
too attached to me and mentioning the W and M words (wife and marriage) too often.

After a century of sharing my house and my bed, she wasn't being unreasonable, and
she was funny and wry, but even so . . .I couldn't do it. I was very fond of her, wouldn't
have hurt her if I could have helped it, but I didn't love her. That coupled with my marriage
phobia put the nail in the coffin of our relationship. It wasn't fair for me to keep her hoping
for something more when there was nothing there to work with.

One morning after breakfast I gave her the bad news. She took it better than I
thought she would. She didn't throw anything at me, didn't hit me, and she only cried on
my shoulder for about ten minutes. I held her gently and whispered apologies in her ear that
I doubt she heard.

When she could talk again, she looked me right in the eye, her little chin quivering,
and said, "I always knew I could never have you forever, Loki. You told me that at the
beginning. But after so long I had hoped that you might have changed your mind. I should
have known better. You never lie about things that really matter." Two tears trickled down
her chin and she sniffled softly. "I just want you to know, I'd have liked to have a child with
you. Something to remember you by . . ."

Now I felt like crying. I'd been damn careful not to get her pregnant, not wanting
her to bear the stigma of having a bastard child. And all along she'd wanted one. The best
laid plans . . . "Aww, Sigyn, dearheart. I never knew that. I'm sorry. I never meant for it
to be like this." I said awkwardly, my clever tongue frozen into silence for once. I reached
out and wiped away her tears with a finger. "But I can't be a husband to you. I've got too
many secrets I can't share, too many scars in my past, and in the end we'd make each other
miserable. You deserve a man who can give you all of himself and I'll never be able to do
that, sweetheart."

"I'd settle for half of you."

I shook my head. "No, you shouldn't need to settle for half of anything, Sigyn.
Don't sell yourself short, lady. It was good while it lasted. Now go and find some man who
can make you truly happy. No regrets, all right?"

"All right." She gave me a shaky smile. "Someday, Loki, you're going to meet a woman
who's going to see right past that mask you've got wrapped around your heart. And she's
not going to care what secret shame you're hiding. She'll love you anyhow. Then, my
clever fox, you'll be snared for good and all. And you won't mind it a bit, cause you'll love
her right back."

"That'll never happen, girl," I chuckled. "But it's a nice dream."

"You never know. Even you don't see all the future, Magician of Asgard." Sigyn
said with a mysterious grin. Then she hugged me hard and whispered in my ear, "I'll never
regret what we shared, my love. Not in a thousand years. What you gave me is more
precious than gold."

"Sigyn, Sigyn. Please don't . . ." I sniffled, blinking back tears.

She put a finger to my lips. "Hush that tongue, Master Rogue. No regrets,
remember?" Then she kissed me, one last sweet burst of passion. Afterwards she packed
her things and returned to Valhalla to live as Frigga's handmaid, the way she'd done before
she'd met me.

I went back inside and got drunk, cursing myself for a fool.

I wouldn't have blamed her if she hated me afterwards and cursed me for a stone-
hearted bastard. But Sigyn doesn't have a mean bone in her body. In fact she remains to this
day a steadfast and loyal friend, one willing to defend me to the death against my enemies.
They got that part right at least.

Next up, the true story of Baldur the Brave and Loki!