INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 80 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 back with blind Hodr Odinsson for a very short chapter. We last saw Hodr in Ch 70 as he traveled back to Gladsheim in the company of the smith, Lopt. The smith had given Hodr a magic spear which unexpectedly restored Hodr’s sight…at least to an extent. Lopt is the one whose horse trampled Hodr — and would’ve killed him had Hodr not eaten Yggdrasil’s fruit.

Hodr has returned to Gladsheim to patch things up with his father. Hodr also wants to marry a woman named Alara. Alara does not want to eat Yggdrasil’s fruit…and Hodr’s not sure if he wants to give that fruit up for Alara. So, he has a decision to make.

Let’s rejoin him now.

Chapter Eighty
Hodr
“So all it did was knock him off his feet?” Lopt said, laughter in his voice.
Hodr smiled at the memory. “Not just off his feet but through the wall behind him. My mother was not happy.”
“And it didn’t hurt him?”
“Not at all. When he stepped back through the hole in the wall, grinning, all the folk in the hall started chanting his name.” His smile soured. “Afterward, Thor just laughed, clapped Baldr on the shoulder—which nearly knocked him down again—and went back to drinking.”
Lopt laughed. “What company you grew up in, Jarl. Was every Midwinter like that?”
“No, my mother would’ve tossed Thor out if he’d broken the wall again. They spent a drafty fortnight in that hall before it was fixed.”
“But that’s a tradition, right? Throwing things at Baldr?”
Hodr nodded, his smile fading. “It became one, yes. But only once with Thor and Mjolnir.”
“Does everyone participate?”
“It’s not as popular as it was, but there’s always some who do. There’s more to the celebration that goes on before that, too, which usually means folk are too drunk to hit anything by the time Baldr stands on the stump.”
Lopt shook his head with a grin as he steered the unladen cart back toward the way house he said he frequented in Gladsheim. It was in the lower tier, not far from where the Einherjar maintained a small fort inside the walls.
It was slow going. The streets were packed with people making their last preparations before the three night Midwinter festival. Animals were being fed, children cared for, guests welcomed, and firewood stacked. Many were helping finish the long stands that held the food and drink which were provided by the jarls to all comers at the festival. Still others were setting up the various games – stone and axe throwing, archery, skating on the river, wrestling and, of course, drinking.
“In my village, it’s the same as this,” Lopt said, sweeping one arm to encompass the preparations, “but on a much smaller scale. Once my father grew wealthy enough, he started paying for skalds to come. They sang many songs—and they’re the reason I know of you, Jarl.”
Hodr nodded to show he’d heard. Memories far more vivid than the sight his new spear provided swamped him of the great hall in Gladsheim, up there on the high center hill, strung with decorations inside and out, its tall columns of polished, carved wood glowing gold in the torchlight. As if he were there again he heard the clatter of weapons falling to the floor, the cheers, laughter and song. He saw again those who danced and pounded the tables for more roasted boar and bitter ale—as well as the ring of warriors who formed a cheering, clapping circle around his brother.
“Jarl?” Lopt asked.
He shook his head and realized the cart had stopped. Spear in hand, he saw the pale light cast by the torches and braziers, as well as the dim outlines of the way house, its stable, and the small yard for the horses.
“My mind was elsewhere,” he said, stepping down from the cart. “Let’s eat and hopefully rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day. And stop calling me that. Especially here.”

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 80 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it.

Not much happening myth-wise in that chapter. This short chapter really just serves to advance Hodr’s plot — to show that he’s arrived in Gladsheim.

Readers know, from Ch 78, that the witch Angrboda told Odin that Hodr would kill his brother Baldr. So we also have, ideally, a bit of tension building in this chapter.

Next week we’re back with Vidar.

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.
  
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.

Again, the numbering differences across the translations persists still. This will resolve itself soon.

Bellows, Verse 80
An unwise man, if a maiden's love
Or wealth he chances to win,
His pride will wax, but his wisdom never,
Straight forward he fares in conceit.

Larrington, Verse 79
The foolish man, if he manages to get
money or the love of a woman,
his arrogance increases, but not his common sense; on he goes deeply sunk in delusion.

Thanks for listening.