Chapter 8 – Mead

Fenrir, Vali, and Sleipnir were outside playing in the forest, Jor was busy with the little ducklings, and Nari was now reading Shakespeare’s Richard III and mumbling something about how the humans hadn’t completely forgotten about the gods, since this Richard guy was somewhat similar to Odin – right down to having his two nephews killed, which, considering that Loki and Odin mixed blood, is basically what Vali and Nari are to Odin. Hel had pulled out one of the puzzles her half brothers got for her, and was attempting to find the piece with the point of the nisse hat with the help of Sigyn who had cleared away after dinner and loaded the dishwasher. Ian had, occasionally, been tempted to ask why Sigyn was the one doing all the housework, but then reminded himself that Loki would not be above putting laundry soap in the dishwasher just to see what would happen, much less opposed to throwing the knives around if he was asked to do the cooking. Perhaps, Ian decided, it was less of a gender role and more of a safety precaution in this house. 

“How about a drink?” Loki offered, leaning back on the couch he shared with the ladies. 

“Sure,” Ian shrugged. “That would be nice.” 

“I have a batch of nice, old fashioned mead, like the stuff that used to flow from Heidrun to the basin in Valhalla – but I also have something called beer, which I’ve been told is more in fashion now.” Not the slightest bit in doubt what they were supposed to answer, they both agreed to try the mead. Loki came back with glasses for everyone, a pitcher of mead, and a six pack. 

“Hakon the Good once claimed,” Hel informed. “That Yule lasts as long as the mead lasts, so drink slowly.” Ian accepted the glass of mead Loki handed him with a soft chuckled. 

“And how long did his Yule last?” he inquired. 

“About three days,” Hel answered with a soft chuckle to match his. 

“Imagine drinking for three days straight,” Max laughed with a shake of his head. 

“Lightweight,” Loki assured them. With cautious lips Max and Ian both took a hesitant sip at the same time, letting the dark golden liquid rest in the mouth before swallowing. 

“Not what I expected,” Ian admitted. 

“Yeah, it’s definitely more… more wine like than beer like.” Both of them were acutely aware that Loki was watching them intently, waiting to see their reaction. They both took a sip more. 

“It’s actually not bad,” Max declared. “Kinda sweet, like…” Ian took another sip. 

“Like honey?” he replied unsurely. Loki smiled widely. 

“Is there honey in this?” Max demanded. 

“Well, it’s mead,” Loki replied. “Of course there’s honey in it.” Max took another sip, leaning back and enjoying it. 

“Not half bad,” he declared. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Ian agreed. “No need to bring the beer out too.” Loki laughed. 

“Well, actually,” he said, ripping a beer from the plastic and showing it to the guys. On a red circle, in the old English font, were written clearly in white letters: “Thor”. No doubt it was a brand name. Max smiled softly, but Ian let out a chuckle. 

“Guess your nephew is still famous,” he commented. 

“It tastes like dog’s piss though,” Loki informed them gleefully. 

“Really?” Ian said. “Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” He opened up a can and took a sip. “Yeah, okay, American beer is definitely better.” He put the beer resolutely back down on the table and didn’t touch it again. Even Max had to admit he couldn’t quite decipher if Ian was being truthful or telling Loki what he obviously wanted to hear, but it hardly mattered. 

“Why don’t you tell us a story?” Sigyn suggested instead. “Something to entertain,” she said, still looking at the puzzle in front of her. Loki didn’t need any further prompting before launching into the story. 

“I know you two don’t know Odin like the rest of us do, but I think you know enough,” he stated. “He tied up Fenrir because it was prophesied that Fenrir would kill him. He had Nari and Vali killed, he had his own son killed. Odin is not above doing whatever it takes. What you may not know yet, is that Odin is a slut for wisdom – and yet, somehow he never seems to get any smarter. This is the story of how he killed and whored to get a special mead that supposedly granted great wisdom and creativity. The mead was kept hidden by the Jotun Suttung, who had entrusted it to his daughter, Gunnlod. Odin first went to Suttung’s brother Baugi disguised as a farmhand. When walking there, he noticed nine farmhands cutting the hay. Seeing an opportunity, he offered to sharpen their scythes with a whetstone, and they, not knowing that kind strangers often turn out to be selfish gods in disguise, gladly accepted the offer. When he was done they marveled at how well their scythes cut now and said that it must truly be the best whetstone in all of existence – and if they might buy it off of him. Okay, so maybe they were a bit stupid, not realizing that ‘the best whetstone in all of existence’ would belong to a god, but hey, only Odin would think stupidity a mortal offence. Odin agreed and tossed the whetstone up in the air. A scramble ensued to catch the whetstone, and in the scramble the eager farmhands managed to all cut each other with their scythes, and so all nine of them died. That, at least, is how Odin told it. 

“He then went to Baugi and introduced himself as Bölverkr. He told the tale of the unfortunate fate of the nine workers who in a brawl had killed each other on the field, and he offered to take their place for the remainder of the season and do their work – but in return Baugi would have to help him obtain some of the famous mead of wisdom. Baugi said he had no control over his brother or the mead, and that Suttung was zealous about keeping it to himself, but Baugi would try to broker between them. And so Odin stayed the season out, working the fields – which, honestly, I would have loved to have seen. He was never above getting physical, that much I will give him. 

“At the end of the season Baugi went with Odin, still disguised as Bölverkr, and sought out Suttung. Suttung, as you might imagine, did not fancy giving his precious mead to his brother’s farm hand, not even a sip. Odin and Baugi left empty handed, but Odin in no way let Baugi go so easily. He forced the Jotun to show him to the cave where Gunnlod was guarding the mead. Standing by the cliff wall he handed Baugi a drill and ordered him to drill through the cliff – for Odin only does the work himself when he cannot pawn it off on others. Baugi drilled, and when he was done Odin blew into the whole to check. When the dust blew back in his face, he knew the Jotun had lied to him, and ordered Baugi to finish the whole. This time Baugi obeyed, and when Odin blew into the whole again the debris went out on the other side. 

“Here Odin turned himself into a snake and quickly slithered into the hole, Baugi, having realized his treachery, stabbed at him, but Odin was too quick. Once through the whole and into the cave, Odin changed himself into a handsome young man and approached Gunnlod. Gunnlod, having been isolated and alone for so long, instantly fancied the handsome stranger. Odin proposed a deal to her: if he spent three nights with her, she would give him three sips of the precious mead – and Gunnlod agreed. Now, for some reason, he never really went into detail with what happened during those three nights, I’m not quite sure why,” Loki said with a smile and a wink. “It cannot possibly have been that the ruler of Asgard, the King of Valhalla himself, did something untoward with a Jotun, he would never stoop so low – he knows what kind of offspring a Jotun can foster, and he fears them greatly,” he said with an approving look at his daughter. Hel looked up from the puzzle for a second, and despite her usual cool demeanor when it comes to her father, there was what could almost be called a happy blush in her cheek at the praise. 

“After the three, supposedly entirely innocent, nights were over Gunnlod kept her promise and gave Odin three sips of the mead, one sip from each of the vats. In one swallow Odin emptied the first vat, and before Gunnlod could stop him, he had emptied the other two too. He then changed his shape into an eagle and flew out of the cave entrance and headed to Asgard. Now, somewhere along the way, Suttung figured out what was going on, and set off in pursuit of Odin – so Odin clearly wasn’t as clever as he had imagined. But he did make it home just before Suttung caught up to him, and the mead is now in his possession. He gives it to whoever he deems worthy, and those he grants it to become true masters of poetry and art. 

“At least that is how the story goes, but Odin does like to take credit when none is him due, and shred responsibility wherever he can.” The listeners chuckled. Whether Loki’s story, and small embellishments, were actually true or not, he was entertaining to listen to. 

“I for one would rather have a mead that granted me the ability to read like Nari over there,” Max commented, looking at the young man still completely engulfed in his book and seemingly lost to the world around him. “That would sure make work a lot easier.” At that Nari’s head shot up as if he had unmuted the conversation at the mention of a key word. 

“You read for a living?” he asked as if Max had just declared he was paid to sit on a beach and sip margaritas. 

“Well, sort of,” Max agreed. “I’m a lawyer, I often have to look up case law or precedent on a case, and there’s a lot of briefs and contracts and laws to read.” Nari put the book away and began a hailstorm of questions aimed at Max. Not till the mead pitcher had been emptied and filled three times over and the date had officially changed did the questions light up. 

“And what about you?” he asked Ian instead. “Do you read too?” 

“I do read, yeah,” Ian said. “But not for work. I drive an ambulance, I go to people who are hurt and I get them to the hospital. Not as thrilling as law books, I know,” he said with a smile as Nari lost all interest in him and looked back at Max again. 

“It’s not like reading stories though, kid,” Max assured him. “The texts are a lot less interesting.” But Nari would not let anyone else be the judge of that for him. 

Has Nari found a new obsession to fill his time, and will he be moving from Classical literature to law books and bar reviews? Does Thor really taste as bad as Ian let on, and how much does one have to pay for a Thor six-pack? And did Loki forget something today? There are four days left of Yule, so we will see.