Heavy clouds clung to distant mountains and teased the ancient pines nearby. I stepped out of the thick forest into a fallow field. The season of wildflowers had ended. The season of seeds and fading glories were underway.
The wind whipped around me but my leathers were made well. The cold of the Nine Worlds don’t bother me. It’s been a year since I last wore them. Two years since I was last here. “Hey! Girl! I told him you’d find us!” His voice boomed across the field like thunder.
I crossed the field in three steps. One step to enter, one step in mid-field, one step to leave. At a cottage in the middle of the fields, three people were casting tokens on a leather covered shield.
“Whose fate are we playing for this time, Thor?” Thor snorted at the question. “Unasked for I have come. With weapons I have none. With peace my hands are full. May I sit with you?” I bowed slightly in respect to the Aesir.
Thor’s mirth faded some. “Eh? You are suddenly formal? As many times we have walked as friends? What reason have you to be formal to me?” Loki came around the corner of the cottage. He looked at me with fiercely green eyes, but said nothing.
“It’s been a while, Goat-driver. My presence before was always controversial. And considering all that has happened since the last we cast lots together… I want no trouble.” I spoke to Thor. My eyes watched Loki directly, and the wide-eyed youth at the table indirectly.
The wind shifted and I caught a scent of bitter honey from Thor. Mead. I wasn’t surprised. He was appearing to me as a full grown adult after all. It’s a nice day. Why the fuck not.
Thor looked back to the youth still seated. He glanced at Loki and furrowed his brow slightly. He reached for his horn and filled it with more mead from a hanging skin.
“You were asked for, Weaver Free-Woman. The boy asked for you.” He held his horn out to me. “And I have no reason to have quarrel with you. You will sit with us, because I will be offended if you don’t.” His face held mirth. His eyes held severity.
I took the horn. “Then let my weapons stand guard with yours. And any that cross you this day, crosses me.” I took a politely formal sip from the horn. Thor snorted in derision at the gesture. I waited until he reached for the horn. With one hand I blocked his reach while I swiftly chugged the mead to his amusement.
Thor’s laughter chased birds from the fields. “You know the wiffley bastard that’s trying to hide behind the corner! Here, let me introduce you to [the boy].” He grabbed the youth and pulled him to his feet. “[Boy]! This is Weaver FarTraveled! She’s a storyteller.” A sudden smile split Thor’s beard. “Among other things. Among many other things!” He began laughing again in the way the pleasantly drunk often do.
“Hello.” I held out a hand in greeting. He looked at it in surprise.
“I didn’t think you’d be so clear…” My turn to laugh and smile.
“Sky-splitter! He’s still sober! What gives!” Thor only laughed (he laughed a lot this night) and handed the boy another filled horn.
“So, y’all never did tell me. Whose fate are we casting lots for?” I peered over the leather. It was marked the same as when we last cast lots.
Loki came and stood beside me. “[The boy’s] of course. Would be rude to do so without him present.” I smiled at Loki and nodded.
“Do the Norns know you’re tinkering in their shit again?” Loki looked away and began humming. Thor exploded with such a peal of laughter, he had to sit down. “Yea, that’s what I thought. I better sit this cast out, you guys. You know how I tend to skew shit.”
Another horn appeared in my hand. Thor’s hand rested on my shoulder. “Then tell us a story, Hel-touched. I would to hear a story from Weaver.”
Call me by name and ask for a story? I must comply. So far, I have not regretted the binding. “A story you have asked for, a story I will tell. What story wish you to hear, son of Odin?” Only the one that calls me by name can dictate what story I tell.
“Ask her how she got the feather cloak!” [The boy] spoke up again. I found his presence endearing. A welcome reminder that I myself, am merely another mortal. (It’s a Keri thing.)
“Feather cloak? You taking flying lessons from Freya?” At Thor’s question, Loki finally relaxed in true laughter.
“No, you dolt! Not falcon. Raven! Weaver has a raven-feather cloak.” Thor gave Loki stink-eye at his answer. The boy giggled. I just shook my head.
“Shut up, you hothead! I can’t hear her over your blabbing.” Thor shoved the cup with the tokens in Loki’s hand. “Here, do something constructive and toss lots while she speaks. Have some damn manners!”
The two sniped at each other in friendly threats while the boy and I just sat back and watched. I would have allowed them to continue, but Thor didcall me out. I’m now bound to tell a story or I won’t be permitted to leave the dream and wake up. (I think. That’s what it felt like.)
“So!” I slapped the table for attention. Three faces suddenly turned to me. “I had been to a different realm of the dead. One with a very demanding representative. I called her Ravenwoman in my ignorance, and the name stuck. At the time, I considered myself a ceremonial magician, and was leaning heavily towards Thelema. Well, that notion was stripped of me one day. And by stripped, I mean flayed off my skin.”
I took a sip of the warm, strong mead. “Would you know the rest? And are you going to cast or not, Loki?” Thor pounded the table demanding to hear the rest. His pounding made the marks jump out of place on the leather, ruining Loki’s sly attempt to ‘stack the deck’. Loki glared at me, but I only raised the horn and winked.
I continued the story while the three folk cast lots, argued about the interpretation, and tried to arrange outcomes to personal ideals. The morning segued to noon by the time my story was done. Thor demanded another story. I gleefully obliged, now being reminded just how much fun he and Loki could be to hang around.
Sif came in early afternoon, bringing us bread and cheese for a meal. I had not met her before and stood to greet her. She cast a judging eye on me, this woman dressed as a man, until Thor introduced me as Weaver Hel-touched. She dropped the judgement and asked if I saw Baldr during my trip there. I hadn’t. She began asking me about my travels in the Nine Worlds.
Sometime in the conversation, my awareness slipped away into deeper sleep. Last I remembered was leaning against Thor, horn in hand, teasing Loki for his sweet tooth.
Make of that, what you may.