The Ragnarok diaries

The Middle

The big tournament fights luckily didn't happen that often, I think mainly because the Grandmaster was currently quite short of contenders, so he had devised other ways of passing the time. He, did of course, have his Champion, but he was for special fights and occasions only.

OK, so this, unlike the fight, I do remember clearly.

"We have to do what???" I cried as I picked and clutched a minute gold bikini in disbelief.

"The Grandmaster likes to show his gladiators off to his top clients so they clean us up, oil us down and get us to serve drinks and generally walk around looking buff" said Korg who was trying, and failing, to pick up a long length of the same gold fabric with his huge boulder hands.

"You might have to help me with this loin-cloth actually, Mike used to do it, but..." Korg looked as sad as a face made of granite could for a moment as we remembered the poor departed mountain man "and I'm not asking Miekke" he concluded, rather sensibly since his friend had knives for hands.

"And do it tight, last time I had women trying to play with my pebbles all night" Despite the appalling situation I was sure about to unfold I burst into helpless giggles.

"It wasn't funny" Korg sniffed, hurt by my laughter. I patted his arm consolingly, accidently starting a small rockfall of shale.

From my studies in Roman history when I was an undergrad student, I knew that this had been a common ritual back back on Earth - all the rich and powerful liked a bit of rough to grope and leer at. Only thing was that I had never thought I'd be the bit of rough.

The only upside of the whole demeaning thing was that I got the chance to have a wash and change into something other than the leather armour I'd been wearing for days. A team of giggling women had descended into the gladiator pen tasked with getting us ready for the evening's entertainment. The two that had brushed and done up my hair looked quite annoyed they had missed out on helping one of the other male fighters who were taking great delight in being oiled all over.

They awkwardly held the perfumed oil bottle out to me, but I declined. I looked silly enough wearing a bikini with a little train of fabric attached to my arse like a chicken, let alone being shiny. The gold arm rings they wrapped around my upper arms were a nice touch though, I had to concede, and they hide the scar of my healing war-wound. They might also come in useful as I could try and ram them down the throat of anyone who tried to touch my pebbles or anything else.

Deciding I should find out how ridiculous I really did look, I tentatively stepped in front of a full length mirror. My blonde hair had been curled and pinned up so I looked less scruffy than usual when it was down on my shoulders loose. As someone who on Earth wore a one piece to the beach and still felt self conscious, I was shocked that I was delighted by the reflection staring back at me. My body looked strong but lush - curves and strength combined. For all I hated the idea of a bikini it certainly did great things for my boobs, I had to admit. I felt like a warrior princess and the knowledge that I still had Loki's knife in my boot gave me a sense of power and confidence.

The column of gladiators made an impressive sight as we walked silently and impassively into the huge neon-lit ballroom, pulsing with techo synth. We were directed to stand along the wall, like a live art installation or cattle market. We were the walking advertising for the power and wealth of the Grandmaster while the guests danced languidly or lounged on huge bright velvet couches. As the only woman in the line I could feel the eyes of the party goers on my body so I made sure I kept my eyes resolutely above their heads and looked around room instead, taking in the fantastically dressed party goers.

We'd been warned that any violence or attempt at escape would have rather fatal consequences, but I still couldn't keep my eyes from darting to the guarded doors looking for an opportunity to find a way out. Of course, even if I'd made it out the doors I had no idea how to get back to Earth, and outside the city seemed more perilous than in here. Frankly, after seeing what lived out in the rubbish dumps, dying in the arena was a better way to go than being cannibalised.