INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 82 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 Frigg, the wife of Odin and Almother of Gladsheim.

As readers we’ve learned quite a bit more than Frigg has since we last saw her in Chapter 77.

And yet Frigg has learned a few things, too. First, through her visions she believes that her son Baldr’s life is threatened. Frigg and Odin learned that the mistletoe in which they’d hidden Baldr’s spirit—this is what makes him invulnerable—was vandalized and taken.

Frigg believes that the witch Yelena was responsible for doing that. But she doesn’t know why or if Yelena was acting under her own initiative…for some reason…or another’s. Frigg, and Odin, also believe that Loki and perhaps Angrboda are involved in the plot on Baldr’s life. Odin left to summon Angrboda’s spirit and get answers. We know how that went — Odin was cursed by Angrboda and we last saw him wandering off into the wild forest near the Gjoll.

We also know, from much earlier chapters, that Loki does intend to murder Baldr during Midwinter and that the Jotunn plan to attack Gladsheim about a month after Midwinter. However, Angrboda told Odin that Hodr would be the one to kill Baldr. So there’s some confusion here as to what will actually happen.

With that short summary out of the way, let’s rejoin Frigg.

You can find me online at: https://mattwritesmyths.com/ The show's public site is here: https://rss.com/podcasts/fensalirpodcast-kinsmendie/ The source for my short reading from Snorri’s Prose Edda is here: https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/pre/pre04.htm The source for my reading from the Havamol is here:https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe04.htm Larrington’s translation of the Havamol can be found where books are sold online.

Chapter Eighty-Two
Frigg
The procession through Gladsheim worried Frigg. Baldr would first be carried around the Lower Tier, then the Middle Tier, and then the Upper Ring. During that entire time – from midday to midnight – even a one-eyed graybeard could strike that target. She winced at that thought, since her absent husband Odin partly fit that description. Still, the thought of Baldr prominently at risk worried her. There were only so many wardens she could have posted along the route and close to Baldr before the folk noticed and began to think it strange.
But Yelena was loose and was involved in the cutting out of the heart of the mistletoe in which they’d hidden Baldr’s spirit. And since Yelena was a shapeshifter, she could be anyone or anywhere. Loki, too, was a suspect, along with Angrboda, Loki’s dead wife. Odin had left to interrogate Angrboda’s spirit, but had not yet returned despite having promised, as he always did, to return before the Midwinter festivals began. Which were imminent. And where was Odin? Nowhere to be found, even by Heimdall.
She swore to herself and pushed those thoughts from her mind. Focus on what she could control. On her fingers, she listed the measures she’d taken. The Great Hall, which is where Baldr’s procession would arrive, was locked down—side doors barred, and wardens posted. 
Mistletoe itself could not be turned into a weapon, not by any means she knew. Odin might know a way, but he wasn’t here.
She pushed back the wave of anger and resentment that bubbled up at that thought. It didn’t help.
What might is the task she given Hermod—make sure nothing wooden in the hall could be pried loose and used against Baldr. Hermod had made triply sure that was the case.
She’d also told Fimafeng that no weapons of any kind would be permitted into the hall itself. Instead, stones would be thrown during the ritual, stored in barrels set before her platform and moved only when it was time to begin.
What else was there to do?
She’d already persuaded Heimdall to watch, and she’d alerted Tyr. But no other jarls would be present this Midwinter. Not unusual, but this year she would’ve liked the extra eyes. Especially since Yelena had killed Gulfinn—she’d foreseen his death. And that worried her. 
It wasn’t that Gulfinn’s passing was necessarily linked to any time that overlapped with her vision of Baldr burning in a flaming ship. But combined with Yelena, the cut mistletoe, and her other visions…Klakki being killed by Jotunn spears was just one example…but she’d also heard nothing about Vidar or his journey into Utgard. Heimdall couldn’t find him, which wasn’t that unusual given the low gray clouds and snowstorms that almost always covered those lands, but still, it was another burden on her shoulders. A burden that she bore alone.
She was on edge. She wanted to scream, to tear her hair, to curl up under a warm blanket and let someone else handle it. But there was no one else.
Instead, she paced back and forth in the room behind the platform in the Great Hall. She stared into the hearth, enjoying the heat and the snap and pop of the logs. Until the vision of Baldr burning in the ship surfaced in her mind.
What else? What was she missing? Other than death playing out in flames above the heads of everyone she set eyes on...
She snorted. Fire and death; death and fire. No matter where she looked.
If they could only find that shapeshifting bitch who’d savaged Baldr’s mistletoe, that would help. But how could they find a shapeshifter in a city in which so many thousands lived and was home to many more thousands who’d come to celebrate Midwinter.
Questions hung in her mind like decorations. Why hadn’t the witch cut and burned all of Baldr’s mistletoe? Why hadn’t she burned the tree? Or the entire grove? And how had she figured out where Baldr’s spirit had been hidden or even known what Frigg had done?
Who was the mistress the witch had referred to? Frigg’s gut twisted. Angrboda seemed possible, but Loki’s first wife had been dead a long time, too long for this young witch to have learned from directly. Unless Yelena was older than she looked which, as a shapeshifter, was not impossible. Or perhaps Angrboda had formed a coven before she died and passed her hatred for Odin and the Aesir down to them.
“Mother?”
Frigg looked up to see her daughter clad in full armor, sword strapped to one side, axe to the other. No doubt she wore a knife at the small of her back. Hermod’s dark golden hair was gathered into a tight braid and doubled upon itself. She looked much older and more serious than she should at twenty-five years. She hadn’t even eaten her first fruit.
“The hall is locked and I’ve done what I can to check Baldr’s route for anything suspicious or potentially harmful,” Hermod said. “I’ll walk the route again tomorrow morning and recheck the hall to make sure my hidden marks haven’t been disturbed.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Hermod.”
“So will you tell me why we’re taking all these precautions? I know it’s because of some threat to Baldr, but...”
“But he can’t be hurt or killed, so what’s the point?” She wanted to say that might not be as true as they thought. Instead, she continued, “You saw what the Sons did at the docks. The precautions aren’t so much for Baldr as they are for everyone. We can’t have a battle break out in the middle of the hall.”
Although it wouldn’t be the first time.
Hermod hitched up her sword belt and forced the pommel down so she could sit comfortably. “Any word from Father?”
Frigg shook her head. “Nothing. Heimdall still can’t see him, either.”
“He has time to keep his promise,” Hermod said with all the confidence of a child who barely knew her father.
“Yes, he does.”
“But you don’t think he will, do you?”
Her smile felt lopsided and forced. “Midwinter starts tomorrow. Three nights out, three nights back puts him back tonight.”
“There’s still time,” Hermod repeated. Then, with a note of hesitation in her voice, she added, “Mother?”
It was that hesitation, the uncertainty, that made her look up.
Hermod flashed a nervous smile. “How much danger are we actually in?”
Frigg straightened up. “Danger? I’m not sure—”
“Mother, please, I’m not the child I was when Father left. There’s more going on than just a possible threat on my brother’s life. That witch you found killed Gulfinn and then escaped. Ráta tore Yelena’s home apart looking for some clue as to where she might have gone. And since he returned, Father’s barely been home for more than a handful of nights…he was nearly killed at Ithavoll, then he lost his eye…. And then there’s the attack on Háls... those fools setting the ships on fire.... And having spent so much time patrolling the city these last few days, it almost feels like we’re in a dry bonfire that’s ready to be kindled. So, how much danger are we actually in?”
Hermod had grown up. She had a choice. She could feel it in the air like a weight pressing down on her chest. Either treat her youngest as if she were still a child, or tell her the truth.
“You remember I told you we’d all sit down and tell you everything?”
Hermod nodded.
“Well, that time has come.”

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 82 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it.

Not much happening myth-wise in this chapter. Frigg reflects on the preparations she’s made to protect Baldr during the Midwinter celebration and decided to bring her daughter Hermod into the family secrets.

Next week, we’re back with Hodr.

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.

Bellows, Verse 82
When the gale blows hew wood, in fair winds seek the water;
Sport with maidens at dusk, for day's eyes are many;
From the ship seek swiftness, from the shield protection,
Cuts from the sword, from the maiden kisses.

Larrington, Verse 82
In a wind one should cut wood, in fine weather row on the sea, in darkness chat with a girl: many are day’s eyes;
use a ship to glide along, a shield for defence,
a sword for blows, and a girl for kisses.


Thanks for listening.