The Prodigal Son Returns

My satisfaction was short-lived, for as Leif stepped into a patch of fading sunlight, I could see he was bruised and cut about the face, his lower lip crusted with dried blood. He was dressed in faded denims and a blue shirt that had seen better days. He wore a red bandanna knotted about his neck, which he kept tugging at nervously. Worn black boots and a leather belt completed his ensemble. His blond hair was still slightly shaggy, making him resemble a lost waif. Indeed, the look in his brown eyes was one of wariness, like a stray dog unsure of the welcome he'd receive. It reminded me with a sharp pang of the morning I'd found him on my porch, beaten half to death and terrified out of his wits. I have ever had a soft spot for those poor unfortunate wretches life has abused without mercy, and in spite of my anger, I could not help feeling sorry for him.

"She do that to you?" I queried gently, indicating his face. I thought it likely, given Belle's fierce temper when she was roused.

Leif shook his head once. "No. Well, she gave me that cut on my lip, but the rest I had from before."

"I see." I remarked, and waited for the rest of his explanation.

Instead Belle jumped in, saying remorsefully, "I'd never have done that if I'd known his father'd been at him. But I lost my temper and wouldn't let him talk . . ." she trailed off in shame.

"It's nothing, I deserved it and some worse, leaving you like that," Leif said quickly, his eyes now burning brightly with concern and love, I saw to my utter astonishment. "I never meant for things to turn out like this, Belle. I should have left well enough alone, but I didn't and now things are messed up as usual." He hung his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I know it's not much and you'll probably not ever forgive me, but it's all I can say. I never meant to hurt you, or Belle either."

I cleared my throat. "What's between you and Belle is your own affair, young man. I'll leave that to you two to work out. As far as your apprenticeship goes, you were free to leave whenever you wished, though I hoped you'd give me some notice. But there is one question I want answered. Where in blazes is Gungnir?"

I expected him to look away, unable to meet my gaze. Instead he straightened up and looked me square in the face. "My father took it. I wasn't going to let him have it, not till he agreed to let me marry Belle, but he's never been one to let anybody dictate terms to him, and he found out where I hid it and came to fetch it himself. I tried to stop him, but he was too strong and too angry with me to listen to reason. I'm sorry, Master. I thought I could trust him . . .my mistake cost all of us dearly."

"That it did, lad," I said gravely, and saw him go pale at my words. I reached out a hand and laid it gently on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "But I forgive you for it."

"You do? But why?"

"Because you're not the first kid to make a mistake, Leif Malasteinsson. All of us do at your age. Me included." I answered honestly. Norns was that ever true. At his age, I'd bounced from one mistake to the next like a rubber ball. "Besides, a wise man once said, to err is human, to forgive divine. And we immortals are at least partially divine, so I can forgive you without too much of a fuss, right?"

He eyed me askance, as if wondering when I'd stop being so nice and start swinging at him. "You're not kidding, are you? You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes," I reassured him, and saw his lower lip begin to tremble. "Come on," I said quickly, before he lost his composure in front of Belle. "Let's take a walk and you can start at the beginning."

He hesitated, darting a glance at Belle, who smiled at him and said, "Go on, Leif. Tell Father what you told me. He'll understand."

Looking like he'd just received a writ of execution, Leif followed me across the picket line and out onto the prairie. We walked along in silence for a few moments, allowing Leif to gather his thoughts. At last I said, "What made you steal the damned spear in the first place? Did your father order you to do it?"

"No. It was my own idea," he admitted softly. "Back when I was courting Belle, and I knew that I truly loved her and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I wanted to see if my father would at least give his consent to the match. I told myself it didn't really matter if he did or not, I'd still marry Belle anyhow, but I wanted . . ." He coughed suddenly, and I saw the anguish he tried to hide. But he brushed it aside and continued after a moment. "All of my life I've been the youngest and the least of my family, the one nobody notices, except to make fun of or do some chore that nobody else will do. That was why I volunteered to serve in Valhalla, because I thought it would show my father that I was just as brave and good as my older brothers and my sister. I wanted him to be proud of me for once. But he didn't see it that way. He looked at it as a way to get me off his hands. When he learned what had happened and how I'd became your apprentice, I thought he'd be angry at how I'd been mistreated and grateful I'd found a place where I was happy and learning something useful. It's what I'd have felt if I'd had a son," Leif said bitterly. "I should have known better. Lord Malastein cares only for his own reputation, not the welfare of his children. He was furious when he learned what I'd done and he said he was sorry my mother ever bore me. He called me a worthless good-for-nothing and wanted to know how I'd pay back our debt as the apprentice of a magician of dubious origins."

"When did you see him?"

"I never saw him face to face until recently. Those other times, I used a scrying bowl. I told him that once I was a fully trained magician I could hire myself out and name my own fee and in that way the debt would be paid. He didn't much like it, but I guess he figured it was the best he was going to get from me. When I told Belle, she was all for telling him to go straight to Hel, but somehow I just couldn't do that. After all, he was still my father. I hoped that once he cooled down he'd see sense and admit that I was right for once. I was stupid, I know! I'd have better luck catching the moon than gaining his approval." He heaved a sharp sigh and looked away from me.

"Son, I can't fault you for trying to win your father's approval, only the methods you used. Why choose the Spear of War, why not some other treasure of Valhalla?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing. That day . . .I'd gone to the hall to sell the cheese and milk and I was thinking about buying a betrothal ring for Belle. I couldn't wait to get married. But I felt bad about not informing my family about the match, and so I sent a message to my mother. She answered that my father refused to sanction a marriage between a son of his house and a foundling, even if she was the adopted daughter of the Magician of Asgard. That shouldn't have bothered me, I'd known for years his attitude towards Aesir and people with no known ancestors. But it did bother me. A lot. I knew Belle was worth twenty of those highborn Vanir girls he'd been considering, and I wanted him to meet her so he could see for himself just how wrong he was. But I knew he'd never even consider setting foot in a banquet hall without some kind of incentive. While I was mulling all this over in my head, I chanced to look up and see Gungnir hanging there. Now there was a prize tempting enough to make a miser sweat gold. Father had been after the spear for centuries, just like any ambitious Vanir lord with a grudge against the Aesir. If I could get the spear for him, perhaps he'd forgive me, and give his consent to my marriage and then everything would be all right."

"And did it never once occur to you that you would be starting a war by your little gambit?" I snapped, suddenly angry at his naivete.

He hung his head. "I wasn't just going to hand the spear over to him. I was going to make him swear first, by the Norns and his family name, that he wouldn't use the spear for revenge or war, that he'd put it away and never use it. That was why I planned to steal the spear and then hide it in Midgard. Father hadn't gone down to the mortal realm in centuries, he'd never find it there. I figured if I was quick enough, I could spirit Gungnir away and no one would ever connect me to its disappearance. I intended to return in a few days with Belle's ring and a proposal, but it didn't work out that way. My father demanded I hand over Gungnir and then he'd swear the oath, and I refused. He came after me then, swearing he'd take it away by force and I ran and hid down on Midgard. After a week I sent him a message saying that all he had to do was agree to my terms and Gungnir was his. He replied he'd think about it. So I waited. I knew Thor would send someone from Asgard to find Gungnir, but I never thought it would be you, sir, or that Belle would come too."

"Or that I'd be able to find you so quickly," I added. "Why didn't you move the spear right away, Leif?"

"Two reasons. One, I was afraid to tip my hand too soon and the other was because I was having serious doubts about trusting my father. Finally though he agreed to swear the oath and he requested I meet him at night behind the wagon. So I did and at first he was all sweetness and light, swearing he'd use the spear for the good of the Vanir only. I wanted him to promise me more though, so I wouldn't give it to him right away. Swear the oath you promised, Father, I cried. Then and only then will the spear be yours. He laughed in my face then, said I was nothing but an impudent whelp too big for his britches. You forget who owes whom, brat! What's yours is mine, boy, till you come of age. Now give me the spear. I wouldn't. In fact I took it and ran, but I couldn't run forever. Father's actually a pretty good tracker when he cares to be so, and eventually he caught up to me. We fought, but like I said, I wasn't strong enough to stop him, and in the end he took the spear and conjured up that mage storm. I thought it was just an ordinary storm, not—not something that would do so much damage, Loki, I swear it!"

He looked at me then, and in his eyes was the stricken look of a youngster whose magic had gone awry and cost the lives of innocents. "I couldn't stop him, sir!" he sniffled, blinking back tears furiously. "Once he had Gungnir in his hands he changed somehow. He seemed bigger somehow, stronger . . .his aura—it grew to ten times what it was. I never saw anything like it in my life. And then he looked down at me, the spear gripped in his hand, and I was scared to death. I thought for sure he was going to kill me for daring to defy him. But all he did was sneer at me and hit me across the face a few times. I guess he thought I was too worthless to kill. All I know is that he spun the spear in the air a few times and then that hellspawned tornado was born. He sent it off with a flick of his wrist, then he chuckled and said to give his greetings to you, Master Loki, and to give my new bride something to remember on our wedding night—if she would still have me, that is." He muttered this last to the ground.

I swore heatedly and gave him a comforting pat. "He's nothing but a bastard, Leif. You shouldn't pay any attention to what he tells you, son."

"I won't. At least not any more," he promised. "He's played me for a fool for the last time. I'm through wasting my time trying to please him. What'd it ever get me except bruises and a whipping anyhow? I should've known better. To him I'll always be the useless younger son, the misfit that nobody gives a damn about." Angry tears were glinting in Leif's eyes now. "I'm sorry I ever thought he was worth stealing Gungnir for. He's not worth a plugged nickel, as these Westerners say. And to think I betrayed you for him, the only ones who've ever treated me decently. . . ." He choked back a sob. "Belle, I still can't understand how she can forgive me after what I've done . . .if it was me, I'd spit in my face."

"Belle has a kind heart, Leif. She understands the importance of forgiveness and true repentance. As do I. A man named Jesus taught me well."

"The White Christ?"

"The same. He said that there is no sin too great to forgive, if the sinner is honestly and truly repentant of it. Which I can see that you are, son."

"But . . .I betrayed and abandoned your teachings and your daughter. Not to mention stole the Spear of War right from under Thor's nose and probably started a war between your people and mine. How can you not want vengeance for that?"

"Vengeance is the way of an Aesir warlord, Leif. Or a Vanir one, come to think of it. I am neither. What good will it do if I were to use magic to beat you senseless, boy? Will it change the fact that Gungnir is gone? No. Will it make what you did any better? No. All it'll do is quench my anger for a brief instant and make you sorry you ever came back to me. And I promised myself long ago that no apprentice of mine would ever have to suffer my temper for an unwitting mistake. And that is what this was, right, Leif Malasteinsson?" I asked sternly, fixing him with my most judgmental glare.

He nodded miserably, but he did not hesitate to meet my eyes. I could tell his remorse was genuine, and he had not lied to me about the reasons behind his actions. I could spot a practiced liar from twenty feet away.

"Besides, my daughter would never forgive me if I turned her betrothed into a cockroach," I added mischievously.

"Guess not," Leif smiled. "I'll do everything I can to help you get Gungnir back, sir. I never thought he'd go back on his word like that. He used to tell us that a nobleman's word was sacrosanct." Leif spat.

"You never know what a man will do once he gets his hands on a powerful arcane object," I said wisely. "Especially one as old and strong as the Spear of War and Death. Its influence is unpredictable, and it preys on all those feelings of revenge and hate we carry in our souls."

"What are you saying? That my father isn't responsible for that mage storm or his actions?"

"Not at all. A strong-willed man like him should be able to fight off the spear's influence if he wants to. Apparently, he finds it easier to let hatred and contempt dominate his actions. There is no excuse for what he's done—to you or to my poor mortal friends. If you want to truly redeem yourself, son, you can start by telling me where you think your father might have gone."

"I'll do better than that, Loki. I'll take you back to his home. That's where he probably is, showing off his newest prize to the family and telling them how he took it from his too-trusting, too-dumb youngest child. I want to get Gungnir back as much as you do, if only to prove to him that I can and he's not the perfect nobleman he's always claimed."

"Good. We could use your help. Now quit wallowing in guilt and forgive yourself, young man, before I lose my temper and whack you one," I threatened with a mock-growl.

"Yes sir, Master," my apprentice said. "And thank you."

I drew him into my arms and hugged him. "No need to thank me, lad. I was a desperate fool once upon a time too. Now put a smile on your face and go back and kiss your betrothed, Leif Malasteinsson, for you've neglected her shamefully this past month!" I ordered, laughing.

"As you will, sir," Leif agreed, then winked saucily at me and headed back towards the camp where Belle waited.