Thor's Wrath by JTT Ryder

Author:JTT Ryder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Old World Heroism
Published: 2023-03-22T19:08:51+00:00

CHAPTER VI

The God of Justice

The Norns have spun something weird,” Frida said as she eyed the bound Asgeir. He was being held captive inside the weaving hut. His legs had gone numb, and his fingers hardly tingled.

Caught again by Frida! Where is my fylgja to guide me away from her? Why have I become snared by her and her kin?

Candlelight danced by him as two she-thralls stacked another two dried turf blocks onto a pile.

“The Norns spin the fate of all men on Midgard. Your thread must be frayed and hooped. How can one young man cause so much havoc?” she asked as she sat in a chair, eying him as she wove a fat bone-needle through a half-finished sock.

“There is so much work to be done. So much wool to be threshed. So many udders that need milking. You scared my thralls all the way down the mountain, like spooked deer. We’re so far behind, and it’s nearly the last slaughter. And that is just the crime you committed since dawn. My son is a hunter, and he tracks, traps, and hunts well. We promised a fox or a marten would line the hood of Sakka, his bride. You ruined that,” she said, nonplussed, as she bound more thread onto the green sock. “You ruined too much.”

The twine chafed his wrists as he balled his fists. I hate you! It’s you whose thread I have been wound in, when you plotted to murder Ulf! You and your son are rotten fruit from the same diseased tree.

Frida wound and bound the sock with the thick bone needle. The light danced about her blond locks under her linen wimple while she leaned back on the chair. The she-thralls toiled about at a table, chopping onions and carrots for the midday soup.

“You would have been a murderer, and so would your son. How could you?” Asgeir asked.

“How could I? You’re a wedding night’s thief,” she said. “You’re the puppy of a rampaging, crazed old dotard that has brought the fires of Muspelheim to our humble Laerdal.”

“I didn’t want any of this. I should be back on my farm preparing for the slaughter. Yet you’re still a would-be-murderer.”

“Last night’s crimes will ring louder than your accusation.”

“You have no honor.”

She stopped her binding, and looked up at Asgeir. “I have no honor? I, who had left my home as a young soil-girl, not at the behest of my father, but of my own will? I, who volunteered to marry Rudolf High-Hat to ease the war between the Geats and the Svears? I, who stay loyal to my husband, though he can never set foot along the Norvegr again? I have no honor? And which adder hisses that at me? The dirty polecat that made the beast with two backs with an innocent, unwed maiden?”

She’s right—by Thor—she’s right. What was I thinking? Blast it! I have none to blame but myself. But that sweet Sakka—Arild doesn’t deserve her!

With that last word her voice cracked, her twang thickened, and she slammed the needle and sock down on the hard-dirt floor.

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