INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 44 of the Kinsmen Die podcast, home of fantasy fiction based on Norse mythology that’s written and read by me, Matt Bishop.

In this podcast I read my first novel, Kinsmen Die, one chapter at a time. And, with each episode, when it makes sense, I provide some commentary about the source materials I’ve referenced in the text.

This week, we’re with Frigg as she continues the conversation she has with Odin.

In the last chapter they were discussing recent events and how Odin would have to deal with Saglund, the Einherjar hersir. This chapter expands on that a little bit, Frigg advances her personal goals, and there’s a bit more backstory and world building going on.

So, let’s get to it.

Chapter Forty-Four
Frigg
Frigg watched her words sink in.
“You left me in charge, Odin. I enforced your will and made my own felt in many ways, once I got used to holding the reins. There’s no doubt I’ve been very effective in some areas. But at the same time, the folk have an ebb and flow much different than ours has become.”
“We lead, they follow,” Odin said, spreading his hands wide. Draupnir’s heavy, intricately detailed coils of gold glittered around his wrist.
“Says the man who hasn’t been here.” She made sure to smile as she said it. Even so, his features darkened.
“I don’t say that to anger you, Odin, but to remind you that things here have changed. Take the sympathizers we mentioned at Ithavoll – the Sons of Muspell. The wardens have standing orders to break up the crowds who gather to hear the Sons speak, but they’ve been doing that for nearly ten winters now. The crowds have gradually grown bigger and less easy to disperse.”
“Let me guess, these so-called Sons want peace with the Jotunn.”
She nodded. “In part, yes. Can you blame them? For forty winters, all they’ve known is peace. Only the aged—and us—remember the Last War. And only we jarls remember anything earlier.”
“And what if our bloodied nose in Háls blossoms into war? Will this peaceful generation of Aesir fight?”
“My point is that most don’t understand the old hatred and fear of the Jotunn. They’ve grown comfortable in their lives.”
“That’ll change when their children are spitted on Jotunn spears and their homes are ablaze,” Odin said harshly.
The flames of her vision danced around Odin’s head, even as the shadowy hall gaped around him like a wolf’s maw. She closed her eyes.
“Frigg? What’s wrong?”
She opened her eyes to a field of fire that stretched out behind Odin. Black smoke billowed into a gray sky. His face in her vision was bloodied and black with soot. His gray eyes were furious. Gungnir gleamed golden in his upraised fist.
“Frigg?” His voice was more earnest now. He touched her hand, her shoulder.
She shook her head, blinked, and the vision winked out. “Can we not speak of peace now, Odin? We have all of us grown too old for war.”
“What did you see?”
She forced herself to sit straight-backed and looked him square in his deep-set eyes, chips of flint above sharp features and a beard graying despite centuries of eating Yggdrasil’s fruit. She had strands of silver in her own hair, of course. That was what sacrifice meant. She’d gladly pay more to keep Baldr alive.
He surprised her by leaning back and saying, “Tell me what you and Baldr have achieved with respect to the Jotunn.”
She’d expected him to press for details of the vision she’d just had. Instead, he was asking her to share her knowledge, to further tell him what had been happening. It felt like a good sign, not that he was ready to abdicate but perhaps that he’d acknowledged that Gladsheim had changed. Or he simply didn’t want another argument.
“Probably the first thing to understand is that all trade with us goes through lands controlled by the Hill tribe.”
“That can’t be making them popular with the other tribes.”
“No, it isn’t. But it’s also giving them the means to persuade the others of the futility of opposing us.”
“And are they convinced?”
“Baldr thinks so. And he thinks that the carrot—letting them out to settle in the lands to our south—will sway the argument. He truly believes the Jotunn are dying out. He says their women haven’t borne living children in several winters. He’s held their stillborn in his hands. If it continues—”
“But you said food has been flowing into Utgard for a long time now.”
“It hasn’t made a difference. Baldr can’t explain it.”
“Even Hill’s been affected?”
“All of them.” She nodded, not bothering to keep the sadness from her face. She had been born into the Hill tribe.
Odin frowned and looked away, but not before she glimpsed satisfaction in his face. Best to try lancing it now.
She leaned forward. “I know that none of us except Tyr and Heimdall can even hope to understand what you experienced at Ymir’s hands, but I think Baldr’s right. Even the Sons are right in their misguided way.”
“What if everything’s been an act, Frigg? Everything. They trot out all the old men and women while hiding the children. Heimdall may as well be blind and deaf with all he drinks, and—”
“And I’ve sat upon the High Seat, Odin. I’ve looked, as you taught me. I don’t think they’re deceiving us. If they are, then I still don’t see how they could have maintained the deception for so very long. We’re talking hundreds of winters in total.”
“So your point is what? Even if they have deceived us, we can still defeat them?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “At most, they have a thousand warriors. Eight hundred or so now, given what Vidar just did. We have nearly two thousand Einherjar and more than six thousand in the army. We can muster double that if we call up the garrisons between here and Ifington. If it comes to war, we’ll destroy them.”
“You say the sweetest things,” he said with a smile.
She smacked him on the arm.
His face grew serious. “After Ymir murdered my parents and slaughtered Audhumbla, I saw him for the devouring monster he was. We had been one tribe—but after he did what he did, and I did what honor demanded—that tribe splintered, me and mine against them and theirs.”
She reached out and took his hand. “We have an opportunity to move beyond all that horror. To set a better example and heal the old wound that divides us.”
“I’m not sure I’m the best person to do that.”
“Then step down,” she said immediately. “Let Baldr become Alfather and Nanna, Almother.”
Her words hung in the air like arrows nearing the top of their flight. Disbelief danced on Odin’s face. No, not disbelief; he was dumbfounded. But she’d said it. She hadn’t planned on it—not this soon, anyway. But now that it was said, she felt as if a boot had been lifted from her heart.
A loud knock came at the door, and the side door swung in.
Fimafeng slipped through. “Your pardon, Hár Frigg, Alfather. The Jotunn envoy has arrived. What shall I tell him?”
Odin shifted in his chair, a thoughtful expression in his eyes as he looked at her. He hadn’t seemed to hear the steward, so she answered again.
“Please ask him to wait. With our apologies and respect. The Alfather and I will be just a little longer.”
“Yes, Hár Frigg.”
Moments later, after a creak of hinges and a soft thud, Odin blew out a long, low breath and, quite mildly, asked, “Are you joking?”
She shook her head. “I’m quite serious.”
He shoved himself up from the chair, a lean gray wolf, and stalked several paces away. “Abdicate? Now?” He thrust an arm out toward the west. “Vithi attacked.” His other arm waved toward the door. “And their envoy is here to shower us with apologies and platitudes about it being some rogue tribe that hates Aesir, and they can’t control every individual tribe. Everything we’ve heard a thousand times.” He snorted. “If we show weakness, they’ll attack again. They’ve proven they can get a warband through to us. What if they can do it again with two or three warbands? Or more? Even three hundred warriors rampaging through Asgard would kill thousands. They hate us, Frigg. Hate me, for all I’ve done against them since Ymir did what he did.”
He raised a hand, one finger pointed up. “But they also fear me. And that keeps them in check.”
She rose and faced him. “And that’s exactly why you must step down.”
He gave her a look that said she was out of her mind.
“We need to show them a different way. That we can change.”
“But... why? If they are in fact dying out, why not just wait? Keep them contained, and the problem solves itself.”
“You’re all right with all of them dying? All of them? Is that what you’ve wanted all this time?”
He waved a hand dismissively and turned away.
“Don’t you turn away from me.” She grabbed his arm. “I’m Jotunn, just as you are. And your children are at least half Jotunn.”
“The ‘one people’ argument? Did you get that from Baldr or the other way around? I forget.”
She grabbed his arm and looked him right in the face. “We can’t let them all die, Odin. It’s wrong.”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes, so she knew that her strikes were hitting home. “Say Baldr and Nanna ascend to Gladsheim’s throne. You remain leader of the Einherjar. Some of them go with the folk we send to settle those new western lands you found, and you mark out the places in the south we’ll permit the Jotunn to settle – but always near a loyal Einherjar garrison.”
“The only message we’d send by my abdication is that we’re weak.”
“Between you, Thor, and now Vidar, along with all the other jarls, are we actually weaker with you off that chair?” She pointed at the seat he’d just vacated. “With the Sigfather unchained, so to speak, I’d argue we’re stronger.”
He pursed his lips and looked thoughtful.
“Consider what we gain if we expand our borders to the west and south. Maybe new trade with those other Aesir you mentioned. New settlements. And we bleed some of the tension from this locked-shield contest with the Jotunn. They get to settle new lands, surrounded by us. How long do you think it’ll take to integrate that first colony? A hundred winters? To us, that’s nothing.”
“So what you’re really saying is that we hold one hand out in peace but the keep the other clenched and ready to fight?”
“If you want to put it that way, yes. At least it’s better than what we’ve been doing for the last few hundred winters.”
“We’d have to completely control where they settle,” he said. “That’s not negotiable.”
She could feel him giving grudging way. She nodded. “Of course. Not even Baldr will disagree with that. It’s safer for the Jotunn, as well.”
“And only one settlement at first. Maybe two.”
Was she actually convincing him to both step down and let the Jotunn out? “I think that would work, but only if we promise more over time—maybe one every three winters or something. Each in a place chosen and controlled by us. They won’t like that, but maybe we designate a larger region and say that anywhere within it is acceptable.”
“So long as we can control the ways in and out, that would be all right,” he said. “You don’t give a dangerous wolf a long leash. You gave him a short, strong one.”
“We have nothing but time, Odin. They don’t. They’ll be anxious to make a deal.”
He held her gaze for long heartbeats. “I’ll think on it, Frigg,” he said finally.
He must have read disbelief on her face, for he took her by the shoulders, looked right at her, and repeated, “I’ll think on it.”
Had she really just taken the first step toward freeing herself from the burden of ruling? It couldn’t have been that easy.
A knock banged on the door. Fimafeng stepped in and shut the door behind him. “Your pardon. Are you ready now for the Jotunn envoy, Alfather, Hár Frigg?”
She looked the question at Odin, and he nodded.
“Yes, we’re ready,” she said. “Please show him in.”
“Very good, Almother.”
The steward bowed, hauled on the door, and slipped through, pulling it shut behind him.
She turned and found one of Odin’s sunnier smiles directed at her. “You really have grown used to ruling in my absence, haven’t you?”
“I’ve had little choice, Alfather,” she said, sketching an elaborate bow.
He snorted, gray eyes twinkling. “Then you’ll join me now and not skulk behind that curtain.”
“That was my idea,” she reminded him. “Saglund would have acted differently if I had been here. He would have been insulted I was present while he, the great Einherjar hersir, and you, the father of victory himself, spoke.”
He frowned and stepped back toward his chair. “And will the Jotunn envoy be similarly insulted?”
She shook her head. “We’re used to one another. It’ll be best if you sit, though. It might make you seem slightly less intimidating.”
“As you command, Almother.” He sat down just as the door creaked open while she remained standing.

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 44 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. 

This chapter picked up one of Frigg’s threads — wanting Odin to abdicate. She was surprised by his willingness to consider the idea.

We also got a little more backstory on the Sons of Muspell. According to Simek, the word Muspell is probably a Germanic term for “the world conflagration causing the end of the world.”

In the Gylfaginning, which is part of Snorri’s Prose Edda, the term Muspell and Muspellheim are used to describe the “world in the southern region, which was named Múspell; it is light and hot; that region is glowing and burning, and impassable to such as are outlanders and have not their holdings there.”

The "Ginnungagap, which faced toward the northern quarter, became filled with heaviness, and masses of ice and rime, and from within, drizzling rain and gusts; but the southern part of the Yawning Void was lighted by those sparks and glowing masses which flew out of Múspellheim." … 

"Just as cold arose out of Niflheim, and all terrible things, so also all that looked toward Múspellheim became hot and glowing; but Ginnungagap was as mild as windless air, and when the breath of heat met the rime, so that it melted and dripped, life was quickened from the yeast-drops, by the power of that which sent the heat, and became a man's form.

And that man is named Ymir, but the Rime-Giants call him Aurgelmir.

Ymir had a son named Thruthgelmir — the powerfully shouting one — who had six heads. Which is probably why he could shout so well. Simek says that Thruthgelmir and Aurgelmir are probably the same, but I wanted a fire giant. So, Thruthgelmir became that fire giant.

Thruthgelmir had a son named Bergelmir who is associated with frost in the sources. 

And I wanted a fire giant b/c I already had that realm — Muspellheim — associated with fire and heat. And, I had Surtr who is the “fire giant” who destroys the world and he rules in Muspellheim.

Thruthgelmir left the ancient land, as did his son Bergelmir and, of course, Odin and the others who eventually called themselves Aesir.

Thruthgelmir arrived in a hot, arid land with his family and other followers. One of his sons was named Muspell, he took over ruling the tribe and he named the land where they settled after himself.

Snorri calls Surtr — the fire giant who destroys the world — the leader of Muspell’s sons. So by creating that genealogy and backstory, I created a future power base for Surtr…but recall, the events told in my books are closer to the beginning of the story than the end. 

Who the Sons of Muspell are in these books remains a bit of a mystery.


Next week we’re back with Loki. Until then, if you have the time and inclination, please rate and/or review the podcast — that helps boost the show’s visibility. As does sharing it.

And if you’re so inclined, shoot me an email at mattbishopwrites@gmail.com.

I’d love to hear from you.
  
As always, I’m going to read from both the Bellows and Larrington translations of the Havamal, the sayings of the High One, Odin himself.

Bellows, Verse 44

If a friend thou hast whom thou fully wilt trust,
And good from him wouldst get,
Thy thoughts with his mingle, and gifts shalt thou make,
And fare to find him oft.

Larrington, Verse 44
You know, if you’ve a friend whom you really trust and from whom you want nothing but good,
you should mix your soul with his and exchange gifts, go and see him often.
 

Thanks for listening.