INTRO
 
Welcome to the Kinsmen Die podcast, home of fantasy fiction based on Norse mythology that’s written and read by me, Matt Bishop.
 
I’ve written two novels – Kinsmen Die and Dark Grows the Sun. They are the first two books in my series called And the Heavens Burn. 
 
In this podcast I will read both books and, when it’s finally finished, that third, concluding book in the series.
 
My goal is to share my love of Norse mythology and, obviously, my books. I believe I’ve done something unique when it comes to the retelling those old stories.
 
The point of view characters in my books are the Aesir themselves: Odin and Frigg. Vidar. Hodr. Loki. And, just for fun because the dude is awesome and has a really tough name to pronounce: Vafthrudnir.
 
Everything you’ll hear is based on my interpretation of the source materials – the Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda, along with a stack of books that discuss the myths … and another stack of academic articles that do the same.
 
Right now, I’m planning to read one chapter per week. Every five episodes will be a combination recap and explication of how I incorporated the myths and why I made the choices I did – without spoilers! Like River Song, I frown upon spoilers.
 
Kinsmen Die has 92 chapters. Dark Grows the Sun is about half that. So, this is gonna take a while. I truly hope you enjoy the journey.
 
Before I begin, let me just say – I’m learning the art of podcasting as I go. I’ll do my absolute best to produce a quality product for your listening pleasure. And, I’m just a writer reading his book – I’ll do my best to not suck too bad.
 
So, my friends, strap on your iron gauntlets, hold fast to Mjolnir, whirl it round and round and…hang on…wrong mythic universe entirely.
 
Let’s do this.

CHAPTER ONE

Frigg
White breath pluming behind her and fear making her heart pound even harder, Frigg tugged at the edges of her cloak and flickered into her falcon shape. She shot forward like an arrow. Up ahead, the longhouse’s double doors were thrown wide to release two Alvar thralls carrying a body outside on a litter, their long shadows keeping pace.
But this was no body. This was Baldr, her son. It had happened yet again.
Her sharpened sight picked out Eir, Gladsheim’s chief valkyr, directing the Alvar thralls to rest the litter on the stone table in the clearing beside the longhouse.
She flared her wings, and her booted feet touched snowy earth. “Eir. How is he?”
With a quick gesture, Eir sent the shaven-headed Alvar thralls away. She dug two fingers into Baldr’s wrist and met Frigg’s gaze evenly. “His heart still beats, Almother. Faintly.”
A broken, relieved sob came from beside the longhouse. Nanna stood in the pooling light from within the house. Her hands were cupped around her nose and mouth; her shoulders shook with the strength of her sobs. Nanna had been dealing with these mysterious, death-like dreams of Baldr’s alone for nearly half a year now.
Just as she herself had been alone for the past twenty winters, ever since her husband had set out westward.
Except that Nanna’s solitude had ended, while hers persisted.
Frigg blew out a long breath and laid her hand on Baldr’s brow, just as she had when he’d twisted in the throes of some childhood fever. His face was stone cold.
If she tried, she could still see his pudgy, grinning child’s face, smeared with honey after he and his brother Hodr had raided the larder. But she didn’t try. Not with him laid out like a corpse before her.
“This is worse than the last one,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“It is indeed, Almother.” Eir set a cup on the stone behind Baldr’s head.
How was any of this even possible? The old magic should have kept him safe against all injury. Spears bounced off Baldr as if the skymetal feared to hurt him. Even the venomous spittle of a snow bear streamed off his skin.
Eir raised a skin, popped the stopper, and poured clear liquid into the cup. A strong fruity scent assaulted Frigg’s nose.
Panic beat at her like Jotunn axes on a shield wall as she felt her hand growing cold in her son’s grip. She shoved the panic back and stepped calmly into the space she claimed from it. There had to be an explanation for what was happening to her son—and it was not what her visions suggested would happen. It was not.
Eir dipped a spoon in the elixir. “Excuse me, Almother.”
She removed her hand from Baldr’s forehead but kept a tight grip on his hand. “Should I open his mouth?”
“No, he’ll choke.” Eir pulled Baldr’s lower lip downward with one neat, clean thumb and wet his lips with the elixir. It pooled in the hollow she’d made and ran down his cheek. She dabbed it with a cloth.
“This is the second dose,” Eir said. “Hár Nanna insisted that he be brought outside to be touched by Sól’s light.”
Nanna had claimed that sunlight helped bring Baldr’s spirit back to his body from the shores of the Gjoll. But how could Sól’s light fix this?
She herself was more confident in Eir’s elixir. Baldr himself had distilled it from Yggdrasil’s fruits. It had brought him back before; it would do so again.
Silence descended on the small clearing, aside from her thumping heart. In that fleeting instant, Frigg wished she weren’t dealing with this alone. A month ago, she’d sat on her husband’s High Seat and sent her sight outward across the realms searching for him. When she’d finally found him camped beside an unknown shore, he had looked up and very distinctly mouthed the words I’ll return at once. But he still wasn’t back.
Eir again pressed two fingers to Baldr’s wrist and watched his still chest and ashen face. Nanna had told her that his dreams, these fits, were worsening, but she hadn’t believed it. She hardly dared breathe. Her eyes darted from Eir to Baldr and back again.
Was this it, then? Her unkillable son was dead?
And how long would they stand here waiting?
Dawn’s light leaped into the silent clearing. Baldr gave a great rasping gasp as his chest expanded. Color flooded back into his face and he blew out a long breath.
“Oh, thank Aegir!” Nanna rushed the last few paces and threw herself across her husband.
Frigg felt warmth flood into her son’s hand. She gave it a quick squeeze and stepped back to make room for Nanna.
Eir’s eyes were narrowed. Her grip on Baldr’s wrist had tightened, but her shoulders looked less like a drawn bow.
Baldr’s eyes flew open. He looked wildly around and tried to sit up.
“You’re all right, Baldr,” Nanna said with a sob, keeping him pinned. “You’re all right. Sól brought you back.”
Eir took a step back, frowning, even as one of Baldr’s arms came up, reflexively embracing Nanna.
Frigg watched the wildness in her son’s eyes ease away. Squinting in the bright sunlight, he looked around, recognized who was around him, and said, voice flat, “So, it happened again.”
She laid her hand on Baldr’s shoulder, warm now as it should be. “We’ll get it figured out. Freyja will be here within a few nights for Ithavoll. She can have an—”
“Excuse me, Almother.” It was Gná, one of her maidservants. She braced her hands on her knees and bent over to drag in a ragged breath.
“Yes?”
“My apologies, Almother, but”—she dragged in another breath—“I bring news from the eastern gate.” Hands on hips now, Gná hauled in another lungful of air and wiped sweat from her face.
“Yes, Gná,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even. “What is it?”
Gná ducked her head. “The Alfather’s returned.”  
 
OUTRO
Well, folks, that was chapter one of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. We met Frigg and experienced with her the recurring, mysterious sickness of her son Baldr.
 
I’m a big believer in value for value. So I have two requests:
1)   Leave a review on w/e podcast app / platform you use. They really help
2)   Please consider supporting my work by buying my books on Amazon or in some other way – likes, follows, Patreon, Locals, etc.
 
I’d also enjoy hearing from You can email me at mattbishopwrites@gmail.com
 
All the links will be in the show notes.
 
And with that, I will leave you with this thought from the sayings of the High One, Odin himself:
 
This is the Bellows translation, available on Sacred Texts
https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe04.htm
 
 
Verse 1 
 
Within the gates | ere a man shall go,
(Full warily let him watch,)
Full long let him look about him;
For little he knows | where a foe may lurk,
And sit in the seats within.