INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 30 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. Rather than produce recap episodes every 10-ish chapters as had been my plan — just not enough time right now — I’ve started incorporating more commentary after each chapter. There’ll be a good bit of that in this episode.

Today, we’re back with Odin as he sneaks into the longhouse he shares with his wife, Frigg. It’s the first time he’s been there in twenty winters.

Let’s do this.

Chapter Thirty
Odin
Odin barked his shins on a bench that hadn’t been there before. So much for slipping quietly into the bedchamber from which he’d long been absent—and yet another reminder that things changed in twenty winters.
One of Frigg’s thralls peeked out, her face a dim oval. She rushed to stand and bow when she realized who he was, but he waved her back.
Having defeated the apparent warden of his wife’s bed—his own bed—he crept the dozen more paces to the room where he and Frigg actually slept. Wooden boards creaked beneath his weight. He slipped through the final set of hangings, pulled off his boots and set them quietly on the floor.
As his eyes adjusted, his wife came into view. Frigg reclined in their bed, her dark hair unbound and strewn around her like the spreading branches of an ancient elm. Even at rest, her natural expression gave the impression that she would bend before she broke. Not that she would ever break.
He stepped closer to the bed, and a board that hadn’t creaked twenty winters ago betrayed his presence. Her eyes flew open, fierce and awake. Her hand darted to the falcon-hilted knife he’d given her ages ago.
“Frigg, it’s just me—Odin.”
“Odin?” She let go of the knife. “What took you so long?”
“Baldr and I had a talk on the way down from the western shrine,” he said, sitting on the bed.
“About what?” she said.
“Ithavoll in the morning. And a secret I’ve been keeping.”
She grinned. “The device Vidar’s been working on, or another?”
And all this time he’d thought he and Vidar had been discreet. “How did you know about that?”
“Odin, I’ve ruled here—alone—the entire time you’ve been gone. A witch couldn’t weave a curse without me knowing about it.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” he said, hoping this conversation wasn’t turning into an argument.
“Njord and Skadi won’t be here for Ithavoll, by the way. Messenger arrived yesterday. They had to stay to resolve a border dispute.”
He frowned. “Their duty is to participate in the council. We have them once a year—”
“No, I hold them once a year,” she said, her tone even and her gaze level. “They each rule their own lands and have done so for a long time. Just like us. Besides, we’ll have enough here to decide about the renewed war you’re planning. That is what you’re planning?”
She was relentless, his Frigg. So much for avoiding an argument. “They did burn Háls right down to the stones. And that was a single Jotunn warband. Vidar may yet find more in the mountains.”
Frigg glanced behind him toward the door and made a dismissive gesture. “You’re not needed tonight. Return to your beds.”
When the thralls had left, she tapped her ear and pointed toward the thrall’s quarters. Beckoning for him to join her, she rose and walked to the far corner of their room.
They stood beneath a small window where the wall met the roof’s timbers. Moonlight peeked through. He put an arm around her shoulders and stood beside her, head stooped, facing the door into their chamber.
“They’re just gossips,” she said, her tone hushed. “Nothing malicious about it. Not like that crone I sent away all those years ago.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded. “As best I can be.” She met his eye. “We do need to talk, Odin. And I mean really talk. Not just about where you go and what you’re doing, but about me and what I’m doing. I’m all alone here. I hate it.”
“You’re not alone,” he said, suppressing a rush of indignation. He’d left her in very good hands. “You have plenty of help. Tyr and Ullr. Heimdall. Thor. Sif and Idunn. I know Freyja and Freyr aren’t here often, but—”
She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Our marriage was supposed to be a partnership. We were supposed to be together. To rule together. That’s what you promised. That’s what you told my father, may Aegir preserve him. I’ve spent more time alone than I have with you, Odin. I don’t get a break. I don’t get to wander off into the world’s woods to do whatever it is you’re doing. Night after night, I’m right here, keeping Gladsheim on track.”
He hadn’t left just to go wandering or avoid his responsibilities as Alfather. He’d gone out because there was so much more to learn about the realms.
“I understand, I do. But look, we need to keep pushing outward, or somebody else is going push in on us. There are many other folk out in the realms, and not all of them are descended from my brothers or the Aesir who left with them. I’ve come across whole settlements that could become valuable trade partners—allies, too, outposts we could use as staging areas for colonies or even places for our own to go.”
He sank to the chest beneath the window and pulled her down to sit beside him. The moonlight cast her features into stark planes and prominences. Her eyes were wells of shadow. “I thought Hermod could lead our first trade expedition to them. It would be a good experience for her. She could take a company of Ein—”
She pulled her hands from his. “No. Don’t try to change the subject. I’m tired of doing all of this by myself. Sick of it.”
He’d borne the same burdens she had but for far longer. “I know the weight of kingship. I also know how well you rule. And how greatly our people respect you.”
Disbelief bloomed in her eyes.
“I’m serious, Frigg. Do you think I would have left Gladsheim in your hands if I didn’t think the folk would respect you? To love you? I saw it the other morning before I rode to Vithi, and I see it here right now. You’ve blossomed.”
She stood, mouth a tight line, tone icy. “So you’ve been what? Testing me?”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Look, when I left when we were first married, it was to handle all those small crises, the raiding along the coast. Then, winters later, it was those rebellious gothis out east. Then the Vanir had their Alvar problems. And so on. Each time when I returned, often after months, you’d handled Gladsheim’s affairs like you do everything else: excellently. I know it wasn’t easy for you, even raised as a chieftain’s daughter. Eventually, I realized that the only way for you to fully blossom was for me to absent myself.”
She leaned back, folded her arms, and gave a short disbelieving laugh.
He pressed on anyway. “And look how you’ve grown, from sapling to strong elm. You know, I heard what you said in the hall earlier, Frigg. I am impressed. You’ve become the true Almother of the Aesir, Hár Frigg, not by marriage alone but by your own actions.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.” She stabbed a finger at him. “You didn’t leave to help me. You left because it’s what you wanted to do. You didn’t want to be stuck here, ruling, when you could be out there wandering around. But you should be here, where your responsibilities are. Not out there.”
He stood abruptly, jaws clenching even as he tried to breathe long and slow. She stared up at him, not backing down in the slightest.
“You don’t know a tenth of what’s gone on here,” she said. “Not just within Gladsheim in the past twenty winters, but in our relations with the Jotunn. Baldr’s been going there twice a year, bringing supplies and medicines. Have you even spoken to him about conditions in Utgard? He was appalled by how the Jotunn live. Sickness is rampant. Underfed children roam the streets half-naked and shivering. Jotunn children, actually shivering!”
He snorted. “It’s a play the Skrymir puts on. He could give Bragi lessons. The Skrymir knows Baldr is too tender-hearted so he orchestrates displays of misery before Baldr arrives with his medics and his food and clothing—and gold, I’m sure—and then dismantles the show after he leaves. He’s laughing up his sleeve all the while.”
“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe that is what happened the first few years after Baldr negotiated the truce. Why wouldn’t they make themselves seem weaker after the beating our armies had delivered? But that’s not what’s happening now. At all. The Skrymir’s respectful. Accommodating. And it’s no act. I’ve sat on the High Seat and watched.”
“I didn’t mean for you to use it regularly—”
“You showed me how, remember? How else was I supposed to rule? I don’t have familiars to roam about and scare everyone. I needed to see that my orders were being obeyed. Even so, in that first year, Tyr and Ullr spent more time enforcing my will than they did patrolling the border with Utgard. Thank Aegir they proved loyal. So you’re right. I haven’t been alone. Many of the Jarls supported me, at first out of loyalty and duty to you. But now they respect me for myself. I have grown. I have matured. But don’t you dare sit there and tell me you were testing me or deliberately helping me by not being around.”
Her eyes, fierce as a falcon’s, didn’t waver. Pride swelled in him. Respect. “If there was ever proof of how much you’ve changed, Frigg, this is it. Twenty winters ago, you would never have confronted me like this.”
She stepped in close—a lover’s distance separated them—but she had her hands on her hips. “No, I wouldn’t have. But the point is, Odin, that we’re married. We’re supposed to be changing together. We can’t do that if we’re apart more often than not.”
If they had been regular Aesir maybe he could have agreed. But they weren’t. His role—and hers—was to chart a course for the Aesir. Sometimes that meant being alone and doing that which others would not. Or could not.
“We’ve made ourselves responsible for everyone.”
She smiled lightly. “No, Odin, you’ve made us responsible, by eating Yggdrasil’s fruits and by keeping the Jotunn penned in Utgard so long that their hatred for us will never die. Let it all go. Tear down the fortress, let the Jotunn go their way while we go ours.”
He shook his head. “If we ease up, they’ll recover. They’ll come at us. Not now, but later when we don’t expect it.”
“Not all the Jotunn are bad. Baldr and the peace he has fostered proves it.”
“You mean the peace they just ended?”
“Interrupted,” she corrected with a slight shake of her head. “We can afford to take the longer view.”
“That’s the view I took, Frigg. Contain them. Control them.” And if they all died, well, he wouldn’t shed a tear.
She sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, one hand smoothing the wrinkled blankets. “Whipped hounds eventually turn on their masters. Why not let them instead make the choice to become Aesir?”
“Because I don’t trust them, Frigg. Any of them.” The original Jotunn, Ymir, was the worst troll that had every existed. His blood ran through every Jotunn.
A part of Odin—a small part—did wonder if she was right. Maybe Ymir’s blood was finally spread thinly enough that the Jotunn had given up. If they had, then perhaps he should lay down his weapons—but only after he had settled the mystery of the attack on Háls.

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 30 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. 

We were with Odin and Frigg as they argued over stuff. It may not seem like it now, but it’s all there for reasons.

There are also quite a few foreshadowings in this chapter. Maybe one or two I incorporated while writing the first draft, but the rest were inserted throughout the writing and editing process. I’m not going to call out those foreshadowings because…spoilers! 

Instead I’ll talk about Njord and Skadi who are among those mentioned in this chapter. 

In the myths, Njord is a Vanir...probably the father of Freyr and Freyja. Skadi becomes Njord’s wife — more about that in a minute — but it’s not clear from the myths if Skadi is their mother or not. She’s probably not.

Skadi is the daughter of the Jotunn Thiazi who forced Loki to help him steal both the fruit from Yggdrasil and Idunn, the keeper of that fruit. 

We've already seen what that fruit does in Hodr’s chapters—restores youth and vigor. 

In my universe, the abduction of Idunn is backstory along with what happened after -- the Aesir killed Thiazi (Loki helped) and then Skadi showed up demanding recompense. Which was granted. 

She was allowed to pick a husband from among the Aesir, but she could only choose based on their feet. She picked the god with the most beautiful and/or cleanest feet -- reasoning that since Baldr was the most beautiful of the gods he would also have the nicest looking feet. 

She was wrong. The "cleanest feet" yearbook award belonged to Njord. Since he was a god of the sea, he must've really benefited from those constant sand and salt exfoliations. 

Skadi is a darker, warrior figure, associated with axes and skiing and mountains. Her name could mean either "Harm" or "Shadow" which is super cool. Njord is basically the opposite. She'd spend some time by the sea and hated it. Njord went with her to the mountains and he hated that. Their marriage didn't last. Skadi plays a big role in my third book b/c she's a badass.

I also refer to Frigg as an elm tree. I picked that particular tree b/c of in Norse myth the first man and woman, Ask and Embla, were created from two trees: Ash and Elm. 

Snorri in Prose Edda says that:
- Odin gave them breath and life
- Vili gave them intelligence and movement
- Ve gave them their outward appearance, speech, hearing and sight

Vili and Ve are Odin’s two brothers; I alluded to them in one of the early chapters — they’d traveled farther west and Odin was out looking for them.

(NOTE: Some of the material referenced here is thanks to Norse Mythology for Smart People. https://norse-mythology.org/)

BUT, in Voluspa, which is part of the Poetic Edda, there is a different set of figures involved in the creation of Askr and Embla. Those individual are:
- Odin: who gives 
- Hoenir (HIGH-near): who gives “odr” which is the root of Odin’s name. There is no English equivalent of this word. It means something like “battlefield madness,” poetic inspiration, intellectual insight, the intoxication of spiritual ecstasy. Note that this Hoenir is the same as the Hoenir referenced by Snorri in his Ynglinga Saga…where he details the Aesir-Vanir War…which I’ve threatened to recount on several occasions. It’s also worth noting that Mimir is prominent in the Aesir-Vanir war … which is when he loses his body and Odin preserves his head.
- Lodurr (LOAD-er): in this version, Lodurr’s gifts to humans are good looks and something called lá. Nobody knows exactly what lá means…but it’s probably something like “blood and other bodily fluids”…so gross…but it definitely does NOT mean “warmth” as is suggested in various translations.

When the world is destroyed in Ragnarok, the only humans who survive are Lif and Lifthrasir...those names mean, according to Simek: “Life” and “The One Striving After Life” They take refuge from the raging fires and destruction that Surtr brings by hiding in a wood called Hoddmímis holt.

A holt means, according to Etymology online, "woods, forest, grove or thicket"

Simek states that “Hoddmimir” might mean “treasure Mimir.” Simek also suggests that “Hoddmímis holt” could refer to Yggdrasil but nobody really knows exactly what the term means.

So here we have another reference to Mimir and a link between him and Yggdrasil. Which I’ll talk about when we meet Mimir in an upcoming episode. 


Next week we’re back with Vafthrudnir. 

Before then, if you have the time and inclination, please take a few moments to rate and/or review the podcast — that provides valuable feedback for me and 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 the Havamal, sayings of the High One, Odin himself.

As usual, I’ll be reading from Bellows and Larrington. 

Bellows, Verse 30

In mockery no one a man shall hold,
Although he fare to the feast;
Wise seems one oft, if nought he is asked,
And safely he sits dry-skinned.


Larrington, Verse 30
Into a laughing-stock no man should make another, if he comes to visit the household;
many a man seems wise if he isn’t asked questions and he manages to lurk unscathed.



Thanks for listening.