Hotel Valhalla [Magnus Chase Series]

My Chat With Freya

   By Snorri Sturluson

  When Helgi scheduled an interview for me with the lovely goddess Freya, I
found myself wishing I’d spent more time battling in the fields and less dining on slabs of Saehrimnir.
  But then I recalled that because I was dead, my physique wouldn’t change no matter how much I exercised. I settled for spritzing myself liberally with my favorite lady-pleasing cologne, Thane for Men.
  I was about to make my way through Yggdrasil to Vanaheim when Thor stopped me, shoved an envelope in my hand, and ordered me to deliver it to Freya. Naturally, I was only too happy to help.
  With my raven scribe at my side, I arrived in the throne room of Sessrumnir, Freya’s mansion, at the appointed hour. Instead of the goddess, however, I found a scruffy-looking individual wearing a multihued short-sleeved garment bearing the words:

KEEP CALM AND FOLKVANGER ON

lounging on the dais.

MAN: Whoa, dude, are you supposed to be in here?

SNORRI STURLUSON: Yes. The goddess Freya herself is to honor me with her presence.

M: Cool. I’m Miles. And judging by your body odor [leans close and
sniffs SS], I’m guessing you’re a Fart Elf.

SS [indignant]: I am a thane.

M: Sorry, my bad. Well, a thane, I’m not sure when Freya’s going to be home. Can I get you a beverage item or some salty snackage while you’re
waiting?

  I was saved from being rude by the arrival of Freya in her cat-drawn
chariot. She was every bit as radiant as I remembered her.
  With her was a young woman—newly deceased, by her bewildered look.

FREYA: Snorri, darling. It’s been too long. [Air-kisses SS.] Mwah. Mwah.
Miles, be a love and take—what was your name again, dear?

WOMAN: Ag-Agnes.

F: Hmm. [Taps finger on lips.] Are you quite certain Ag-Agnes is the
name you want for the rest of your death?

AG-AGNES: What do you mean the rest of my death?

F: Maybe something a little perkier. Let’s see. [Strokes cats.] I think Kitty will do nicely. That’s what we’ll call you, my dear.

KITTY: Who are you people?

F: Miles, explain everything to Kitty, will you?

M: I’m on it. [Fires a finger gun at SS.] Catch ya later, A thane. Here,
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty!

K: Seriously. What is going on?

F: Oh, darling, don’t you see? You’re dead.

K: I’m dead?

M [grabbing Kitty in a headlock and giving her knuckle noogies]: Come
on, Kit-Kat, it’s not so bad!

K: I’m dead?

[Miles and Kitty depart.]

F: Sweet girl. She makes designer eyewear. [Slips on bejeweled cat-eyed
spectacles.] When she died, I just knew I had to have her for Folkvanger.

SS: Valhalla’s loss, I’m sure. How did she perish?

F: A gas explosion. She died while dragging someone from the fire.
Speaking of gas [sniffs SS], you’re rather pungent.

SS: Am I?

F: Yes. Do take a step back, dear. My eyes are starting to water red-gold.

SS: My apologies. Before I forget, I have a message for you from Thor.

F [reads Thor’s note*]: Oh, Odin’s Eye, not again. Snorri, sweetie, we’ll have to reschedule. Thor needs to borrow something of mine right away. Can you deliver it to him?

SS: Your wish is my command, my lady. What am I to bring?

F: My magic cloak of falcon feathers. He has to fly to Jotunheim to search for…well, I’m not at liberty to say.

SS: Might I use the cloak to return to Asgard?

F: I’d like nothing better than to allow that.

SS: Wonderful!

F: But no. I’m concerned your odor would negatively affect the feathers.
You understand, of course. Carry it at arm’s length, will you? Off you go now, there’s a love.

  As of publication time, my interview with the dazzling goddess had not
been rescheduled.