The Age Of Odin

Vidar are war gods. Tyr likewise. They're helping with our training, under Thor's overall command, and they're going to head up separate units when the time comes. I can see how sceptical you are about all this, Gid.'

Sceptical? That was putting it mildly. More like a massive case of chinny reckon.

'I was too, at the outset. But then…'

Ling's voice trailed off.

'We've seen stuff,' said Cy, picking up the thread. 'All of us. Since coming here. Stuff that… It in't easy to put into words.'

'Stuff that would make a convert out of an atheist,' said O'Donough. 'And unless or until you've seen it for yourself, you'll never believe, and why would you? It reminds me of my granda, my ma's pa, old Padraig MacBride, God rest him, who'd swear blind the Little People existed. Said he used to see them regular-like as a kid, fairy folk and leprechauns all cavorting in the copses and peat bogs around the village. Mind you, this was County Sligo before the war. His ma was probably slipping poteen into his milk to keep him docile, or else he was taking sly nips from the jar himself when the grown-ups' backs were turned. But Granda would become all het up and outrageous if you suggested he was making it up or pulling your leg. 'What one's own eyes behold,' he'd say, 'is never a lie.' And it's the same here, so 'tis.'

'Okay then,' I said. 'I'll bite. What have you all seen that's convinced you? Give me a rough idea.'

The four of them exchanged glances.

'There was this one time,' Cy began, 'it was earlier this month, actually…'

But before he could get any further, Odin thumped the table three times and stood up. Everyone shushed everyone else.

Speech.

'My warriors,' Odin said. 'Tonight we dine heartily, we drink deeply, we laugh and joke and boast and banter, as we ought. I have seen your delight in this repast and in one another's company, and it pleases me. I cannot, however, promise many more such occasions of merriment as this one. Enemy forces are gathering, like storm clouds amassing on the horizon. I have consulted with the Norns today, and the omens are grim. A war is coming. I have warned you of this before, and now do so again, with deeper certainty and sorrow. A war is imminent, and we must make ready for it. We have skirmished with opponents already, frost giants and the like, in order to hone our skills and foster solidarity among us. But our true adversaries await, and they will be like nothing we have hitherto faced. Henceforth we must gird ourselves for attack. It may not come tomorrow, but it will come soon. So enjoy yourselves tonight. Shortly you will be pitting yourselves in combat against an enemy of daunting might and numbers, and not all of you will survive these clashes.'

With that, he resumed his seat. The banqueting hall was quiet for several moments.

'Well, that's chirped everyone up, hasn't it?' I murmured to Cy, who gave a silent laugh.

Then, just as conversation was juddering back into life, a man at the very end of the top table got to his feet.

'That's Bragi,' Ling whispered to me across Cy. 'Another of Odin's illegitimate sons. The poet.'

'Is he going to —?'

'Afraid so. He's actually not that bad.'

Bragi cleared his throat, stroked his long, lank ZZ Top beard, and said, 'An ode.'

There were groans.

'A short one.'

There were cheers.

'It's brand new. I call it The Besting of Thor.'

Louder cheers, and a number of gazes turned my way. I had a bad feeling I knew what was coming.

In a voice that resounded to the rafters, Bragi began his recital:

For all his strength and all his thunder,

Our big, brash Thor had made a blunder.

He'd challenged Gid, a perfect stranger,

To brawl with him. To most, a danger;

For Thor in combat was undefeated.

This, though, had left him quite conceited.

What's more, his foe, whilst seeming game,

Was injured, ailing, wounded, lame.

An easy win, one might foresee

For Thor, but this was not to be.

Swifter than rainwater falls

Gid did strike him in the… place where it hurts.

There was laughter at that.

Then a head blow fast did follow,

Striking Thor where he's most hollow.

And more laughter, louder.

Cries of shock! Gasps of wonder!

Down he went, the god of thunder.

Who'd have thought, who could know,

He would end up eating snow?

Not for long — but long enough -

We saw that Thor was not so tough.

Then up he rose with raucous shout.

The outcome now was ne'er in doubt.

Thor was mad. He flipped his lid,

And started beating up poor Gid.

The man was lost, and suffered sore

'Neath the pounding fists of Thor.

He needed help. Who'd save his skin?

Vanir Freya then stepped in.

She stopped the fight and stayed her cousin

From hitting Gid another dozen…

…times.

'This isn't as easy as it looks,' Bragi excused himself.

Still, now we know vain cocksure Thor

Has less to boast of than before.