![Hammered [3]](https://fs.read-free.com/562825/thumbs/152x264/hammered-3.jpg)
of Asgard will have time to prepare a proper welcome for the upstart Roman
.
Ratatosk said with delicious anticipation.
His euphemism startled me, until I remembered that I was talking to a squirrel; I confirmed through the images and emotions in our mental bond that he was using the expression to mean the defeat of an enemy, nothing more.
I affirmed his thoughts and then fell silent as I considered the very real possibilities behind my lies. The Norns would be waiting by the trunk of Yggdrasil as we ascended to Asgard. I was certain they’d not know that it was I who was coming—not because I was a god like Bacchus from a different pantheon, but because my amulet protected me from divination—yet they’d probably know Ratatosk would be bringing someone or something with him at this particular time. They’d be curious at the very least, paranoid at the worst, and if the latter was true they might have planned something unpleasant. They might even send someone down the trunk to see who was riding on Ratatosk. As soon as I thought of it, I cast camouflage on myself, my clothes,and my sword as a precautionary measure. The Norse shouldn’t be able to penetrate it, if the mythology was to be believed; they were continually fooling one another in the
Eddas
with basic disguises, much less magical ones.
We still had a decently long trek ahead of us, which suggested to me it was an ideal time for a fishing expedition. I told Ratatosk that my creator, Eikinskjaldi, had given me only basic knowledge of Asgard. Would he be so kind as to fill in some gaps in my information? The squirrel was agreeable, so I peppered him with questions from the old myths: Was Loki still bound with his own son’s entrails? Yes. Was the Bifrost Bridge still functional, and did the god Heimdall still guard it? Yes. Had the eagle and the wyrm run out of insults for each other yet?
Ratatosk chuckled.
Do tell
.
That’s a good one
, I acknowledged.
Accurate yet succinct. Did the eagle offer a riposte?
He stopped again.
It’s been remarked upon before
, I admitted.
Ratatosk said, then began sprinting up the root once more. I didn’t agree that this was good. Confirmation that the Norns were expecting me sounded extraordinarily bad.
the squirrel continued,
What an odd relationship they have. Speaking of odd relationships, why is Idunn married to Bragi, the god of poets?
It wasn’t a subtle way to introduce the true object of my foray into Asgard, but I had a feeling Ratatosk didn’t require subtlety.
The squirrel slowed noticeably while he thought it over, but he didn’t stop this time. he said, then sped up again.
That is undoubtedly part of it
, I conceded.
But I think their lives must be very inconvenient. Do not Idunn’s apples grow far from the city of Asgard and therefore far from Bragi’s audience of the gods?
Ratatosk chattered shrilly, which startled me at first, until I felt through our bond that he was amused. That sound had been his laughter.
Ah, then my point is made. Where do they live?
.
Ratatosk said with delicious anticipation.
His euphemism startled me, until I remembered that I was talking to a squirrel; I confirmed through the images and emotions in our mental bond that he was using the expression to mean the defeat of an enemy, nothing more.
I affirmed his thoughts and then fell silent as I considered the very real possibilities behind my lies. The Norns would be waiting by the trunk of Yggdrasil as we ascended to Asgard. I was certain they’d not know that it was I who was coming—not because I was a god like Bacchus from a different pantheon, but because my amulet protected me from divination—yet they’d probably know Ratatosk would be bringing someone or something with him at this particular time. They’d be curious at the very least, paranoid at the worst, and if the latter was true they might have planned something unpleasant. They might even send someone down the trunk to see who was riding on Ratatosk. As soon as I thought of it, I cast camouflage on myself, my clothes,and my sword as a precautionary measure. The Norse shouldn’t be able to penetrate it, if the mythology was to be believed; they were continually fooling one another in the
Eddas
with basic disguises, much less magical ones.
We still had a decently long trek ahead of us, which suggested to me it was an ideal time for a fishing expedition. I told Ratatosk that my creator, Eikinskjaldi, had given me only basic knowledge of Asgard. Would he be so kind as to fill in some gaps in my information? The squirrel was agreeable, so I peppered him with questions from the old myths: Was Loki still bound with his own son’s entrails? Yes. Was the Bifrost Bridge still functional, and did the god Heimdall still guard it? Yes. Had the eagle and the wyrm run out of insults for each other yet?
Do tell
.
That’s a good one
, I acknowledged.
Accurate yet succinct. Did the eagle offer a riposte?
It’s been remarked upon before
, I admitted.
What an odd relationship they have. Speaking of odd relationships, why is Idunn married to Bragi, the god of poets?
It wasn’t a subtle way to introduce the true object of my foray into Asgard, but I had a feeling Ratatosk didn’t require subtlety.
The squirrel slowed noticeably while he thought it over, but he didn’t stop this time. he said, then sped up again.
That is undoubtedly part of it
, I conceded.
But I think their lives must be very inconvenient. Do not Idunn’s apples grow far from the city of Asgard and therefore far from Bragi’s audience of the gods?
Ratatosk chattered shrilly, which startled me at first, until I felt through our bond that he was amused. That sound had been his laughter.
Ah, then my point is made. Where do they live?
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