1797: Loki's Neck

Author intrusion  (shameless advertising for one of my novels): A tale about another magical ship in Norse mythology.  ~ Excerpt from chapter 41 in SMITH'S HAMMER, book 4 in the Tapestry of Cumbria.

 Scene: In the meadhall of a Norse settlement in the heights of Cumbria, by the evening fire:

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"Who is Loki?" Gwen asked Unna.

"A mischief-maker," the Norse girl said. "A shapeshifter. The Æsir keep trying to banish him from Asgard."

Ormi scoffed. "Loki goes where Loki wills."

Unna nodded. "The wiliest of them all."

Ormi told how Loki the Trickster cut off the golden tresses of Thor's wife while she slept.

"Thor caught Loki and would have killed him," Unna said, "if the Trickster hadn't promised to make things right."

"You can't uncut hair." Gwen brushed at her own shaggy mop, still rueing the loss of her long red braid.

"Loki went down to Nidavellir," Unna said, "and got a dwarf to forge a living, growing wig from real gold."

"That wasn't enough to calm Thor's temper," Ormi went on. "So Loki promised to bring the Æsir five treasures even more priceless."

"He talked two of the dwarves into making a magic ship and a magic spear," Unna said.

"But the others wouldn't listen. None would help."

"Loki knew Thor would kill him unless he fulfilled his oath. So he plotted to trick the dwarves into helping."

Ormi leaped up on the bench and threw his arms wide. "Behold the marvelous ship Skidbladnir which calls up its own wind, and the spear that never misses its kill. I, Loki, declare that these are the crowning works of Nidavellir! No smith under-hill or over-hill could ever outdo such magnificence!"

"Crowning works? I can do better than that!" Abbi cried, joining in the role-play. "There's no finer dwarf-smith than me."

Ormi folded his arms. "I'll wager my head that you can't. This ship, this spear, they stand as the finest craftsmanship ever to come out of Nidavellir, or you can take my head!"

"The dwarves couldn't say nay to such a challenge," Unna said. "Their pride, you see, and the chance to put an end to Loki."

"I'm making Goldenbristles," said a little girl, pounding an imaginary hammer at an imaginary anvil at hearthside.

Other children bickered over who got to forge the great gold ring and the mighty hammer.

"Loki's plan went too well," Unna said. "The boar, the ring, and the hammer were taking fine form, looking far more splendid than the ship and the spear. Loki the wily shapeshifter turned himself into a stinging fly and bit the dwarves, trying to make them clumsy in their work."

Ormi darted about, pinching the children on cheek and arm and ribs. They shrieked and batted at him.

The settlement's blacksmith stepped out of shadow, towering over the youngsters, and joined the tale. "Thor takes the hammer, newly forged, and hurls it at a stone pillar." He mimed the throw. "The pillar cracks – and the hammer flies back to Thor's hand. 'The greatest of all the treasures!' Thor shouts, and turns to Loki. 'Mwah-hah-hah!'" With a menacing growl the blacksmith wheeled to face Ormi.

The lad made a show of cowering.

Children leaped about, waving imaginary axes. "You wagered your head!" one crowed. "And you lost!"

"Your head, your head!" the others chanted.

"Fine!" Ormi scowled as he took a bold stance. "Take my head then. But I never wagered my neck, so you must leave it untouched."

Gwen burst out laughing. "Clever Loki," she said as the children wrestled the older boy to the floor.

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