INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 25 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. Every TEN chapters, or so, I recap the key plot points and provide some insight into the myths I’ve referenced in the book as well as some of the creative choices I’ve made along the way.

Today, we’re back with Vafthrudnir. The last time we were with him, he’d met with his childhood friend the Skrymir, high chief of the Jotunn. In that meeting they discussed their nefarious plans for the Aesir.


Let’s do this.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Vafthrudnir
Hill Tribe is not convinced that stealing supplies will help, Vafthrudnir’s fylgja whispered. But the other chiefs are, so she’s fighting an uphill—
Funny, Vafthrudnir broke in. Torso bare, tattoos a faded blue around his wrists, he sat cross-legged on a thick hide he’d placed beside an ice-covered pool fed by a meandering river in the dead forest outside Jotunheim. His heavy tunic and fur-lined cloak lay behind him.
Even before Sól had risen, he’d slipped from beside his wife and out past Jotunheim’s walls. Now, with dawn striding toward him, he was almost calm enough to throw his mind down into the water.
I thought you’d appreciate that. Anyway, she hasn’t swayed any of the others, but she’s trying.
He remembered a time when this river had run straight, or nearly so, through this same forest. And a time, much later, when children had splashed in the pool that had gradually formed as the river bent to avoid the dying forest.
To his fylgja, he said, Her efforts would probably have been more fruitful if Hill hadn’t been so enriched from trade with the Aesir.
He set an iron pot, full of icy water drawn from the pond, onto the stones set in the small fire before him. From his satchel, he withdrew a bundle of dried herbs and a battered metal cup. He dropped the herbs into the pot, stoked the flames, and set the cup in front of him.
That’s what the other chiefs have been saying, his fylgja agreed.
The pool before him was much deeper than he was tall, which mattered because he’d be sending his hugr deep, too. And it helped that sitting here dredged up sad memories with which he stoked the embers of his hatred.
Come help me, he said, closing his eyes.
I’d really rather not. That thing is terrifying.
Vafthrudnir opened his eyes and stared at his lithe, translucent fylgja. The plume of his breath merged with the fire’s smoke.
Oh, all right.

***

Down he went, his hugr slipping through the waters like a silver-bellied salmon. He swam against the current, casting his mind out, seeking an eddy. The wyrm always found him in the eddies.
A voice came to him even as the waters calmed around him.
I am here, Weaver. Why do you trouble me again?
To request a boon.
Something vast shifted in the darkness below him.
And what do you offer in return?
What do you want? Vafthrudnir said.
A way out, of course.
In granting the boon, you may find that much sooner than we planned. Vafthrudnir sent the words out into the currents, little boats set adrift by children.
There’s nothing of that in the Norns’ scratchings.
They limit even you?
Again he had the sense of movement—of an uncoiling; a rising.
Inside his mind, Vafthrudnir’s fylgja whispered: That was foolish. Get to the point.
Vafthrudnir spoke again. Ygg will soon return to Gladsheim. We suspect he’ll seek counsel. That will put him close to the well.
My broodlings dealt with his uncle, as you asked. How does revealing myself to Ygg help me?
The Norns prevent you from leaving—
They prevent nothing, shaman.
Apologies, great wyrm, I meant solely that their scratchings mark when you will break free. But does the same apply to your children? Surely some of them are old enough, strong enough, to deal with him.
When the wyrm spoke again, Vafthrudnir felt the first sizzle of venom in the water.
So you suggest I capture the little father, then send one of mine into him? I think that would help you more than me.
With respect, it helps us both. He’s a threat to our plans. Yes, suborning him removes an obstacle in our path. That same action—unforeseen though it was—may be one of the steps that brings about your release.
Are you telling me, then, that you’ll fail if he’s present? You guaranteed success.
The venom began to sting; his mind’s voice grew hoarse.
I stand by that promise, great wyrm. Our plan will succeed. But I can’t see all the runes cut and painted by the Norns. Perhaps this path is the one set forth. If not, there will be others.
Now, as the venom began to burn, his fylgja wrapped herself around him like a cloak. The pain receded, and he spoke again. Your snares have worked before.
Partially, it agreed. Then, I will do as you ask, but promise nothing.
Vafthrudnir sensed a vast bulk turning and a tail flicking. The currents surged; his eddy vanished. He tumbled upward, mind afire from the venom-laced waters, until he slammed back into his flesh.

***

Vafthrudnir opened his eyes to a gray sky. Back aflame from lying in the freezing snow, he rolled onto all fours, retched, and pushed himself up. He dragged a shaking hand across his mouth, beard crusted with ice from his breath, and huddled before the fire.
The water in the pot bubbled with the light fragrance of ripe apples and fresh honey. Wrapping his hand in a fold of his cloak, Vafthrudnir lifted the pot from the fire and poured the tea into his cup. The iron pot hissed at him when he set it in the snow.
Hands already trembling a bit less, he brought the cup to his lips and sipped. Warmth spread through him and he relaxed further.
If I didn’t know why you did this to yourself, his fylgja said, I’d question why I stay with you.


OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 25 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it.

We were with Vafthrudnir as he went on a spirit journey to request aid from an entity with whom he has apparently dealt with before.

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

I’m reading from both the Bellows and the Larrington translations.

This verse is another good example of why it can be valuable to use different translations.

Bellows, Verse 25

The foolish man for friends all those
Who laugh at him will hold;
But the truth when he comes to the council he learns,
That few in his favor will speak.

Larrington, Verse 25

The foolish man thinks that everyone
is his friend who laughs with him;
but then he finds when he comes to the Assembly
that he has few to speak on his behalf.

The term Assembly refers to the regional assemblies (Things) in which the people come together to resolve law cases both in mainland Scandinavia and Iceland.

This verse highlights a similar theme as in prior one: that an unwise person cannot see through the shallow signs of friendship while a wise person, by implication, can identify their true friends and will thus have people who will speak on their behalf.

Thanks for listening.