Frigga rocked the baby in her arms, but the boy wouldn’t stop crying. For such a tiny thing, he managed an impressive volume.
“Wouldn’t you have preferred a solemn ceremony? The moon and the wind, and the silence. This could’ve been the perfect night for a blessing.”
“WeÆsirprefer the flourish of a proper feast.”
“Your son seems to disagree.”
“Oh, he just wants attention.” Frigga laughed. “Say hello to Thori Odinsson.”
Njord eyed the bawling infant with distaste. The baby was wrapped in a fine white cloth; his face reddened from crying.
“He’s tiny.”
“Yes.” Frigga’s eyes shone with love and excitement. “But he’ll grow into a great man. A worthy warrior.”
“Isn’t it the priestess’ place to foretell your son’s fate?” Njord teased.
“Pah! I’m his mother, and the goddess of clairvoyance and motherhood, among other things. Who could know better than me?”
“Why don’t you conduct the ceremony then?”
“Because my husband is, at times, a fool. As all men are.” She met Njord’s eyes straight on, her gaze assessing and full of ancient wisdom. “Hold him for a moment.”
“What?”
She was already handing him the screaming bundle, and Njord was too surprised to refuse.
“Calm him,” Frigga ordered as if she weren’t talking to a fellow god but to a humble nursemaid. “It won’t do if the future king of the gods cried through the reading of his birth runes.”
Njord glared at her. The small boy seemed to weigh nothing in his arms, and he rocked him awkwardly as he realized Frigga wouldn’t take him back just yet.
“I have to make sure that Odin’s fool of a High Priestess doesn’t ruin everything,” Frigga explained, smirking at the clumsy way Njord handled her child.
“Make sure you don’t take too long.”
As if acknowledging Njord’s voice, the boy opened his eyes, which he had narrowed while screaming, and looked up at Njord curiously. The blood-curdling screaming stopped.
“Uhm,hejthere.”
Blinking up at him with wide eyes, the little boy looked almost cute. Like this, the strong resemblance to his mother wasobvious: shining amber eyes and a shock of blond hair. Despite himself, Njord grinned. Odin wouldn’t like the fact that his heir looked nothing like him.
Tiny hands grabbed Njord’s hair, trying to get a hold of the silver beads woven into the strands.
“Stop that, you little menace.”
But as soon as Njord moved his hair out of reach, the boy’s expression darkened. He would start wailing again at any moment. Norns, no! Hurriedly, Njord offered his hair for pulling again.
Giggling in delight, the little godling yanked at the offered strands.
Ow.
By the sea, the boy had a lot of strength for such a tiny thing. Njord kept rocking the godling, gentle like the waves, humming a song about a sailor fighting a sea monster to keep him entertained.
How much longer would Frigga take?
Careful to neither stop rocking the child nor move his hair out of reach, Njord walked over to the well. It didn’t take long until he spotted Frigga surrounded by her handmaids, most of them valkyries and goddesses in their own right.
“That’s your ritual, little one,” Njord mumbled. The boy seemed to perk up every time he heard his voice, so Njord kept talking. “Your mommy set up the ceremony just for you, so your fate will be blessed under the World Tree.”
