Chapter 4
RAVNUR
I still hadn’t heard from Freyr. I’d barely seen him, other than in passing while he was headed off to handle one crisis or another as lord of the realm.
But as his most trusted hirdman, I knew there couldn’t be too much more that should steal his time today.
He had promised he would seek me out once he was ready for another excursion. Another courtship stroll.
During which he expected me to regale him with my favorite story.
I knew the one I would tell, and I had told variations of it often, but I’d still found myself rehearsing it in my head all day. How should it be done? Grander than usual? Softer perhaps, more intimate, like whispered secrets between confidantes? Should I stretch the tale out or keep it concise?
The waiting and wondering was what had my thoughts twisted and my insides equally tied up in knots.
With all my own chores done for the day, I was now listlessly strolling alone through the square, trying to decide from which food cart I might purchase—while secretly hoping Freyr would suddenly appear beside me to help make the decision for me.
I wasn’t in the mood to cook and eat alone, so I knew I would choose something from a cart.
There were some near the edge of the square, nearer to my home—which was also nearer to Freyr’s.
With the sun setting and the smells of evening meal options wafting all around me, I found my feet naturally gravitating toward our neighbored dwellings, despite having come from there when I started out.
I pressed a hand to my chest, to where the pendant intended for Freyr was an ever-present reminder of all I longed for against my skin.
Perhaps I was being too impatient.
Or perhaps… Freyr had changed his mind about us.
“I lent you my cart, and you returned it damaged!”
“It was an accident! I offered to replace it!”
“With your shoddy craftsmanship? Don’t make me laugh!”
“Gentlemen, please!” Freyr’s voice rose above the others, halting my steps and drawing my attention to the side of his home opposite mine.
There he stood, glorious and commanding as ever, trying to get between a bickering baker and carpenter who I knew to usually be friends.
“You two are as close as brothers, and you’re fighting over owing one another? ”
The pair seemed startled to have drawn the attention of our lord, clearly not realizing where they had been standing for this altercation.
The cart in question—I was not sure if it was the original or the replacement—had one wheel off and the wood was cracked where it had toppled and impacted with the ground.
The baker and carpenter looked appropriately humbled by Freyr’s intercession.
“Forgive us for disturbing you, my lord,” the carpenter said, “but enough is enough. A true brother would be more respectful of another’s treasures and apologize appropriately.”
“I tried!” the baker protested.
“Please!” his friend dismissed, gesturing at the cart and then to Freyr. “Would you accept this clumsy excuse for a replacement?”
“I would accept my brother’s attempt to make amends.
” Freyr paused after saying it, as if taken away by errant thoughts, and a strange smile flitted across his expression as he glanced back at his home before returning to the now humbled carpenter and smug baker.
“Also, a gift given out of love should always be treasured, even if not up to par with a treasure lost. You could not expect a baker to have the skills of a carpenter, but nevertheless, he tried his best to honor you without burdening you after his mistake. Perhaps that is the true problem, to think honesty between friends is a burden. You should fix what has been broken together. Forge it anew as brothers, and you might end up with something better than the original, treasure and relationship both.”
I pressed my hand harder against the hidden pendant.
Seeking it out had become a terrible habit.
A crutch. But it gave me comfort. The movement also drew Freyr’s attention to me as mine was on him, and the genuine if haunted smile he offered me was all I would ever ask of him—for the chance to be a beacon leading him through the storm clouds of his past.
It was time I unburdened myself of this pendant, but first, I owed Freyr something else.
“Lest we forget our lessons old?” I called, catching the attention of the feuding friends, along with many townsfolk who had congregated to overhear the dispute.
Most had yet to take up seats for the evening meal, so I leapt upon the nearest table and cried out louder across the square. “Shall we hear a tale, dear friends, about slights and gifts and making amends?”
I was not the only storyteller in town, but I was a favorite and drew more of a crowd as those nearest to me answered.
“Tell us a tale, Ravnur!”
“Let’s hear it then!”
“Speak on, bard!”
I scanned the crowd, ensuring my audience was listening well enough and starting to hush, despite the evening din. Then I returned my gaze to Freyr and said, “This also happens to be my favorite story, one about our king, though before his eventual entrance, it starts with the god of mischief.”
Freyr’s smile widened, as if to say he knew which tale I had chosen.
He likely did. But not the ending.
Beginning a rhythmic clap, I urged the crowd to join in and help me keep the beat. Reciting the tale I’d prepared—albeit for a private performance originally—I leapt from table to table, ever keeping my lord within my sights.
CLAP
CLAP
CLAP
CLAP
“Loki, in his impishness, had gone to visit Thor,
when lo, discovered Sif asleep and snuck in through her door.
With conjured shears, his knavery did coax him to be bold
and sliced it all from nape of neck, Sif’s magic hair of gold.
“Found him then, Thor raged and raged and chased him ’round the room,
caused Sif to rouse from slumber and to see the truth with gloom.
Bid Loki fix this slight, Thor did, and Loki did agree,
promising replacement all would envy just to see.
“Brothers Brokkr and Sindri assist him, he entreated
and tricked them into helping lest they fear they’d be defeated.
Proved him wrong for free by making golden wire so fine,
each strand was grander than the master, specially combined.
“‘But can you make art greater after making hair so flawless?
You’ve trumped yourselves and not again can match it to take solace.’
“His words stung true and prompted making treasure after treasure,
first Odin’s spear, then Skidbladnir, and Gull next for good measure.
Mjolnir was the last as Brokkr and Sindri caught on,
but so inspired were they, asked only who to gift upon.
“Sif and Thor and Odin clear, but for the boat and boar?
The brothers chose the god who is the furthermost adored.
Fricco helmed the boat for every seaward Aesir battle
and hunted upon Gullinbursti for the rarest jackal.”
“But while Loki might have started off this story crass,
’twas Fricco whose first mount of Gull did land him on his ass!”
The crowd erupted into laughter and loud applause, and I immediately swung low into a deep bow. Gentle ribbing of Freyr was no rare occurrence—he encouraged it—but that was a newly heard retelling, with an ending only I had ever known before.
“Betrayer!” Freyr yelled over the crowd’s enjoyment, quite obviously having enjoyed it himself and in no way actually upset. “I told you that in confidence!”
Freyr’s amiable response made everyone laugh harder.
I dropped down from the table I had ended on to approach him and answered him quietly between us, “You did, but to hear it made you smile more genuinely than I can last remember seeing.”
Freyr’s smile dropped, and for a moment, he looked so mournful, I wondered if I had read him wrong. Then he grasped my wrist with a lurch. “Come,” he ordered, and tugged me after him through the crowd.
We seemed to disappear in the chaos, like camouflaged animals hiding in the brush. Another trick only the god of nature could manage.
Freyr didn’t stop until we were tucked between homes in a narrow alleyway, close-quartered in the shadowed dark. He looked wild as he turned to me, unpredictable while backing me against the building’s surface.
“I-I hope you aren’t actually angry?” I stammered.
“Of course not!” Freyr assured me, despite the glint in his eyes that I couldn’t fully read. “You told the story splendidly.”
The tension dropped from my shoulders, and I allowed myself to relax. “I might be a little angry, honestly. Much as I enjoyed sharing that new ending, it was nice being the only one who knew it.”
“And Gerdr.” Freyr’s brow pinched immediately—as did mine, I imagined. “That did not need mentioning, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Knowing that doesn’t dwindle any of its specialness.”
There was so much warmth in Freyr, a heat that radiated from him always, felt only too keenly with him so close. “I have—”
“I have something for you!” I blurted, already pressing a hand to the concealed pendant. “Oh! Now I’m sorry! What were you going to say?”
Freyr smiled. “That I have something for you.”
“You do? You first then, please!”
My mind couldn’t fathom anything Freyr might have for me, other than a replacement for my broken bowstring. What he actually had humbled me the moment he pulled it from his belt.
It was the finest ebony drinking horn I had ever seen.
“This might not be spun from gold or any forged weaponry, but I do hope you like it.” He passed the beautifully prepared horn into my hands. “I am sorry it’s so much later in the day than I’d planned. It took me a bit longer than expected to get it right.”
The finish was so incredibly smooth, I could hardly believe it was for me and not intended for another monarch or god. “It’s stunning. You made this for me?”
“Well, I didn’t birth the ram that grew it, but it is from the one I slayed.”
Much as Freyr had outdone me yesterday, he was outdoing me again in the thoughtfulness of this gift. “What I have for you seems so much less special now since I had it made for you. I’m not much more of a crafter than I am a hunter.”
“Nonsense,” Freyr countered. “Intent means as much as personal skill. What did those feuding friends come to learn, just as your story teaches?”
“Be careful when mounting a new steed?”
Freyr laughed. “Fair enough. But also that if you cannot craft something yourself, it is just as acceptable and sometimes more thoughtful to seek out the most talented of crafters to do so for you, for the thought remains.”
I clutched the drinking horn to my chest before carefully slotting it into a loop on my belt so my hands could be free to present my gift.
“I hope so. I was nervous to present this to you and ended up wearing it myself ever since your return. But it is all my design by our best local crafters.” I reached behind my neck to untie the cord of the necklace first and then lifted it from beneath my tunic to hold it out to Freyr.
“This is…” He trailed off before finishing his exclamation, but the radiant wonder on his face said so much. His eyes even looked a bit damp, especially after reaching out and turning the front of the sword pendant with his “beginnings” rune to find the outline of my raven on the back.
I suppose it was like a signature.
And a promise.
“This is very thoughtful,” Freyr said at last, “and very beautiful. I adore it. Would you help me with it?” He reached behind his neck to lift the length of his hair.
I felt as though my hands must be noticeably shaking as I reached up to tie the cord, bringing me even nearer to my king.
The scent of never-ending summer enveloped me.
I had never allowed myself to believe this moment would come, seeing my design resting upon Freyr’s chest instead of staying hidden upon mine.
He lowered his hair once I was finished and caught my hands before they could retract completely. The square was a distant murmur. The alleyway was continuing to darken as the sun set. Only Freyr’s eyes gleamed in that hazy dark, and the silver of my pendant, now his.
I dared not breathe as, in perfect tandem, Freyr leaned down just as I leaned up.
We kissed, no interruption, no hesitation. He pulled my hands back around his neck to clasp them there and moved his to my waist, tugging me even closer. I was almost too astounded, too thrilled to seek more, but I would not waste this moment.
Pushing forward until Freyr was the one with his back against a wall, I probed his lips gently with my tongue, and he parted them to accept it.
To pin my lord and slot my legs between his thighs was as blissful as any fever dream, envisioning this moment but never believing I could have it, not any more than finally having given him my gift.
“Ravnur! Where did that boy go?”
We snapped apart, but though our lips disconnected, for a moment, my body sank against his, and I shivered to have finally learned his taste.
Like the freshest fruits, vegetables, and herbs at the height of harvest rolled into one indefinable flavor.
Freyr stroked my cheek, and I leaned into his caress before finally stepping back just as we were discovered.
“There you are! Oh! Apologies, my lord, but Ravnur cannot possibly leave us hanging on one story after such a masterful telling. Another!”
As we were very nearly dragged back into the square, I overheard the bickering friends from earlier making amends at one of the tables.
“I should have accepted the new cart as the kind gesture you intended.”
“No, no. I should have had an actual craftsman make you a new one instead of bungling the attempt. I am rubbish with wood!”
“You are. But brilliant with a loaf of bread!”
They laughed and clanked their ale horns together.
Though neither was nearly as beautiful as the one on my belt.
Before summoning the crowd’s attention again for another tale, I turned to grab Freyr by the collar of his tunic, pulled him close, and said, “Get me something to eat from one of the food stalls, whichever you prefer, so we might eat together after my encore?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Freyr grinned.
Oh, the pleasure had absolutely been mine.