Stories Of Zoltah

Freyya

A mountain of a man, clad all in tanned leather, with a hooded and gloved, slender-figured girl perched atop the woollen fleece wrapped around his bulging, broad shoulders, trudged along a snow-covered trail in an equally frost-bitten village. All around him, villagers pointed and whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones; the women giggling and winking whimsically, while the men slowly nodded their braided and bearded heads in approval. Bjorn, the Asgardian warrior famed for his exploits on the ground – before the uplifting, had found himself in Norburg, the village at the farthest most end of Asgard in the south, nestled one forest away from the frosted mountain ranges where the menacing giants lurked; led there by Freyya, the youngest of Odin's four children, riding over his shoulders. Before they had left Valhalla days earlier, Freyya, tired and bored of being cooped up in the fortress day in and day out, had spiritedly suggested to her father that she be allowed to join this year's wild hunt. But succumbing to his wife's forbidding glare, the king of Asgard, had settled on allowing his only daughter to travel to Rakinsur instead - where a famed tournament was soon to be under way, taking place inside the duelling pits. However, Freyya had managed to convince Bjorn to take her to Norburg. There, every day was a festivity as wooden stalls lined the stone-paved paths around and leading up to the market square, their tables littered with an assortment of ale and mead. Up along the winding street, young boys nearly ten years old and freshly returned from a forage in the woods, hoisted and heaved the carcasses of slain boars to their mothers who waited behind makeshift stone ovens arranged back to back in a smoke – blanketed cluster. Here, portions of lean, roasted meat were for sale by the reed basket, and an eager crowd of rowdy men, all dressed in similar buttoned tunics, trousers and grey fur coats, jeered and shouted for their share. Bjorn paid no attention as he walked past behind them, both steely green eyes fixed ahead, while flakes of snow clung onto his thick, brown beard. Suddenly, a sharp tug stung at the top of his head, as Freyya dug both pale and thin hands into the warrior's braided blonde hair and pulled away.

"I'm hungry," she lunged to the side and swung forward, bringing her obscured face directly level with Bjorn's. With an amused smile, he glanced back at Freyya, her glassy, sky-blue eyes burning a hole into his. Though she looked younger to most, Freyya had recently turned thirteen years of age, and spent most of her time sparring with Bjorn in the courtyards of Valhalla, while on occasion she attacked her older brothers and delighted in chasing them around the fortress, relentlessly swinging her gleaming axe.

"We are nearly at the hall young Freyya," Bjorn boomed in a deep, patient voice, "and besides, was it not only an hour ago that we were offered a morsel to eat and yet you finished the entire pot?" He broke out into silent convulsions, his massive chest heaving with each stroke of muffled laughter.

"Hmmpf!" Freyya sniffed and sat back straight atop Bjorn's rising and dropping shoulders, her slender nose pointed in the air "I can't help what my stomach wants... and it wants it often!"

Bjorn raised a thickset hand to his face and brought his thick fingers dabbing away at the tears streaming out from his eyes. "Perhaps a reminder of one of our earlier lessons...", he craned his head upwards and strained both eyes to glance at Freyya, but only caught a glimpse of her palm, drooping over his forehead, "...you are always in control of your body, if only you harness control over your mind - for that is where true power lies."

"What does that have to do with pingeon stew?" said Freyya while sweeping her eyes across the market square. From her vantage point, it seemed like everyone was smaller, weaker; each and every one of them nearly less than half of Bjorn's size. Was this how giants felt all the time when they looked down?

"Ahhh, but you see, it has everything to do with the stew," replied Bjorn thoughtfully. "If you can tame your mind your body will follow, even your stomach if you so wish."