Page 24 of Last Thrall of Asgard

So, where were we?

“If you can walk, my friend, feel free to take a seat at the table,” Loki said from the kitchen. “Thistricksterknows well how to feast. It’s part of why I’m everyone’s favorite! Or was.”

I snorted. Although, I supposed there were just as many stories of Loki having fun with the other gods, Thor in particular, as ones of him annoying them.

I did as requested, finding movement easier than expected, as if my ass had been treated by a healer, leaving only the faintest of remaining aches. I was also back in my clothing, despite having leapt into the lake naked. Alongside Loki’s snake and Heimdall’s horn and all-seeing eye had been added Freyr’s sword. What other stitching would I receive, I wondered?

With my hair loose, I swept it to one side and let it hang free. Loki set the table with all manner of delicious smelling food and completed our feast with two large mugs of ale before he joined me.

“To our fruitful partnership!” He raised his mug in a toast.

I raised mine in kind. Perhaps Lokiwasa delight, in the right instances.

Whatever remaining ills I might have had were soothed by that first gulp.

“Fuck. This is the best ale I’ve ever tasted.”

“Naturally. The food is even better.”

There was everything I could have wanted: meat, cheese, vegetables, bread and butter, fruit and honey. I partook of it all, and rightly praised Loki after every bite. I wouldn’t butter him up the way I had my bread. The praises were genuine. I had never feasted so grandly in all my life.

By our second mugs of ale, I was downright giddy.

“Tell me then, farm boy,” Loki began as my appetite dwindled, stuffed full and content, “what else do you like besides good food and ale?”

“I never actually farmed as any of my thrall tasks, you know.”

“Oh? What did you do?”

“You don’t know?”

“I am not the watchman.” Loki gulped from his own refilled ale, and then rested his chin on his hand, batting long lashes at me like some maiden trying to woo above her station.

Whythatwas the way I interpreted it, I tried to ignore. “I cared for the horses,” I said, and immediately realized the depth of humor in that, given current company.

Loki grinned.

“One word about me shoveling shit, and I’ll lose my taste for ale.”

“No shit-talking! Understood. What else did you do?”

“I mostly fed and cared for the horses, ensuring those that plowed versus those that were ridden were fit for their tasks. I occasionally helped carry in supplies to the kitchen and stored what was harvested from farming, but my tasks were easier thanmost others. So as not to diminish my beauty or soft touch.” I sneered at the echo of words Thorsten had once said to me.

“And if you could have chosen something else to do with your life?” Loki asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had the luxury to wonder. Daydreams don’t make reality easier. Although I did like being taught the needle and thread. And woodcarving. Even dyeing fabrics and choosing which threads were best for their stitching had its charms.”

“An artist then!”

“Perhaps.”

“And a lover of stories, yes? You know ours. I’m sure you’ve told them on occasion too.”

“From time to time.”

“That’s artistry as well—storytelling. And so much better than warcraft, if you ask me.”

“I won’t argue with that.” I had never known war, but the prospect seemed terrifying, to fight and die for something you might not even care about.

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