Odd and the Frost Giants Read Free

flashes, of moments—nothing he could hold on to, nothing that comforted him. And then into the dream came a booming gloomy voice that said, “It wasn’t my fault.”
    A higher voice, bitterly amused, said, “Oh, right. I told you not to go pushing that tree down. You just didn’t listen.”
    “I was hungry. I could smell the honey. Youdon’t know what it was like, smelling that honey. It was better than mead. Better than roasted goose.” And then, the gloomy voice, so bass it made Odd’s stomach vibrate, changed its tone. “And you , of all people, don’t need to go blaming anyone else. It’s because of you we’re in this mess.”
    “I thought we had a deal. I thought we weren’t going to keep harping on about a trivial little mistake…”
    “You call this trivial?”
    And then a third voice, high and raw, screeched, “Silence.”
    There was silence. Odd rolled over. There was a glow from the fire embers, enough to see the inside of the hut, enough to confirm to Odd that there were not another three people in there with him. It was just him and the fox and the bear and the eagle…

    “It’s because of you we’re in this mess.”
    Whatever they are , thought Odd, they don’t seem to eat people.
    He sat up, leaned against the wall. The bear and the eagle both ignored him. The fox darted him a green-eyed glance.
    “You were talking,” said Odd.
    The animals looked at Odd and at one another. If they did not actually say “Who? Us?” it was there in their expressions, in the way they held themselves.
    “ Somebody was talking,” said Odd, “and it wasn’t me. There isn’t anyone else in here. That means it was you lot. And there’s no point in arguing.”
    “We weren’t arguing,” said the bear. “Because we can’t talk.” Then it said, “Oops.”
    The fox and the eagle glared at the bear, who put a paw over its eyes and looked ashamed of itself.
    Odd sighed. “Which one of you wants to explain what’s going on?” he said.
    “Nothing’s going on,” said the fox brightly. “Just a few talking animals. Nothing to worry about. Happens every day. We’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”
    The eagle fixed Odd with its one good eye. Then it turned to the fox. “Tell!”
    The fox shifted uncomfortably. “Why me?”
    “Oh,” said the bear, “I don’t know. Possibly because it’s all your fault ?”
    “That’s a bit much,” replied the fox. “Blaming the whole thing on a chap like that. It wasn’t like I set out to do this. It could have happened to any of us.”
    “ What could?” asked Odd, exasperated. “And why can you talk?”
    The bear pushed itself up onto all fours. It made a rumbling noise, then it said, “We cantalk because, O mortal child—do not be afraid—beneath these animal disguises we wear…well, not actual disguises, I mean we are actually a bear and a fox and a big bird, which is a rotten sort of thing to happen, but where was I…?”
    “Gods!” screeched the eagle.
    “Gods?” said Odd.
    “Aye. Gods,” said the bear. “I was just getting to that. I am great Thor, Lord of the Thunders. The eagle is Lord Odin, All-father, greatest of the Gods. And this runt-eared meddling fox is—”
    “Loki,” said the fox smoothly. “Blood-brother to the Gods. Smartest, sharpest, most brilliant of all the inhabitants of Asgard, or so they say—”
    “Brilliant?” snorted the bear.
    “You would have fallen for it. Anyone would,” said the fox.
    “Fallen for what ?” said Odd.
    A flash of green eyes, a sigh and the fox began. “I’ll tell you. And you’ll see. It could have happened to anyone. So, Asgard. Home of the mighty. In the middle of a plain, surrounded by an impregnable wall built for us by a Frost Giant. And it was due to me, I should add, that that wall did not cost us the Giant’s fee, which was unreasonably high.”
    “Freya,” said the bear. “The Giant wanted Freya. Most lovely of the Goddesses—with, obviously, the