Journey of an Einherji - The Sword of Summer

Eagle on the Prowl

None of us said much as we headed back through the park. The air smelled of incoming snow, the wind howled like whispers passing by at high speeds.

Blitz limped along, zigzaging from shadow to shadow as best he could. Hearth's brightly striped scarf didn't match his grimace. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets. I guessed he didn't want to talk.

Magnus walked between me and Sam. His brow's furrowed, worried, he also looked around with wide eyes whenever the wind howled. Maybe it reminded him of wolves.

We were passing near the footbridge when Sam grumbled.

"Mimir. I should have known he was involved."

Magnus glanced over.

"A few minutes ago, you were all, <<Lord Mimir, you honour us; we're not worthy>>."

"Of course I showed respect when he was right in front of me! He's one of the oldest gods. But he's unpredictable. It's never been clear whose side he's on."

Blitzen jumped to the shade of a willow tee, alarming several ducks.

"The Capo is one the side of everybody in the world who doesn't want to die. Isn't that enough?"

"I suppose you two work for him of your own free will?" - Sam laughed - "You didn't drink from his well and pay the price?"

Neither Blitz nor Hearth responded.

"That's what I thought." - Sam said - "I'm not part of Mimir's plan because I would never blindly go along with it and drink his magical knowledge Kool-Aid."

"I think you're angry because he said that you were never part of the plan." - I said, the way one comments on the weather - "That what you did wasn't supposed to happen and that you could fuck things up."

"I'm not angry." - Sam said louder - "I don't care what Mimir said, I did what I was..." - she stopped herself.

"It doesn't taste like Kool-Aid." - Blitz said after a pause - "It's more like root beer with a hint of clove."

Sam turned to Magnus.

"I'm telling you, this doesn't add up. Finding the Sword of Summer, I get that. But taking it to the very place where Surt wants to use it? Unwise."

"Yeah, but if  have the sword-"

"Magnus," - Sam interrupted - "the sword is destined to fall into Surt's hands sooner or later. At Ragnarok, your father will die because he gave his sword away. Surt will kill him with it. That's what most of the stories say, anyway."

I didn't think I would ever understand this: How could the gods avoid going mad if they knew centuries ago, that they were going to die? Or how could they not try to change it, even if they shouldn't?

"Why does Surt hate Frey so much?" - Magnus asked - "Couldn't he pick a big strong war god?"

"Kid, Surt wants death and destruction." - Blitz frowned - "He wants fire to run rampant across the Nine Worlds. A war god can't stop that. Frey can. He's the god of the growing season, the god of health and new life. He keeps the extremes in check, both fire and ice. There's nothing Surt hates worse than being restrained. Frey is his natural enemy."

"And I suppose that honour falls onto, Magnus as well." - I said.

"Yeah." - Blitz sighed.

"Great." - Magnus said sarcastically, then asked -  "If Frey knew what his fate would be. Why did ge give up his blade in the first place?"