Stories Of Zoltah

The Asphodel Meadows

Thor and Loki strode quickly through the abandoned market square in Norburg, with Brokkir shuffling closely behind – glaring his beady eyes ahead and gripping the neck of Ivaldi's hammer tightly. From the distance, the voices chanting Freyya's name grew louder the further they followed, and turning a corner into a rocky, wide pathway lined with trees on either side, they came to a sudden halt. Up ahead, an approaching procession jam-packed the horizon, led at the front, Thor and Loki noticed, by Lagertha and her personal guard, while Freyya grinned uncontrollably next to a woman they hadn't seen before, blushing profusely as she walked close to Bjorn who kept her hand held in his.

Glancing at each other, the brothers couldn't help but smile at the sight – had Bjorn found love? But their amusement was soon laid to rest when they noticed, ambling at the far side of the front flank, with his face a mask of utter disgruntlement, Azrin, noticeably the only one among the throng who appeared displeased with the current proceedings.

"What do you think has happened here?" Thor asked Loki, keeping both eyes fixed ahead. The bustling crowd was making its way down along the steep street, washing in like the high waves from an ocean.

"Knowing Freyya, something heroic," answered Loki, "a far more pressing question, should be what is Azrin doing here?"

"Azrin is here?" Brokkir, startled, tried to force open his swollen eyes but failed.

Neither Thor nor Loki answered him, as they both stared at their elder brother, forcing a smile from the distance as he too fixed his gaze upon them.

After several moments of waiting with bated breath, the procession had finally descended the hill – most of them erupting in cheers at the sight of Thor, while others had to be restrained by Lagertha's guard from pouncing on Loki. With a weak smile, the Asgardian trickster backed away and stood behind Thor, peering out from behind his thickset frame as he called out to Lagertha:

"Villagers of Norburg!" he said in a shrill, nervous voice, "I come in peace – "

"Return our totem pole you skelmir!" demanded a voice from the agitated crowd.

Lagertha, biting her lip and clenching her fists tightly, raised a hand to the air and motioned for calm.

Immediately, the ruckus subsided, replaced by an eerie silence, only broken by Brokkir, who, gazing every which way blindly, kept asking what was happening and whether Azrin was involved.

"Villagers!" shouted Lagertha, her eyes burning into Loki, who smiled nervously from behind Thor, "I know how you feel as I too want nothing more than vengeance on Loki... but I ask that you remember he is still a drottinn... a worthless one, but a drottinn nonetheless,"

The jostling crowd restrained by the warriors relented, the men and women itching to place Loki within their grip grumbling as they finally stood still. Meanwhile, Bjorn and Gertrud who were lost in their own world as they gazed deep into each other's eyes, hardly noticed what was happening around them.

"Perhaps it is better If I speak..." suggested Thor, speaking sideways to Loki, who promptly nodded in agreement.

"Thank you chieftainess..." he began, but she fixed him with a scolding glare, "I mean... Lagertha," he went on in a soft voice, drawing everyone's attention as they seemed to smile fondly at each other. Then clearing his throat as though to change topic, Thor continued; "We are here for Freyya – we need her for an urgent matter that simply cannot wait,"

Azrin raised a brow and stepped forward, clasping both bony hands together.

"And what matter is so urgent that she must leave with you at once?" he drawled, eyeing Thor from braided head to booted toe; thickset and brutish – what the Asgardians saw in him, Azrin certainly couldn't see it.