Freyja's Jewel

   Laeviss tells his UPG regarding the history of Freyja's jewel, and how it is of great significance: In very ancient times, the Goddess wore this jewel to indicate her representation of the Earth, and the powers that are encircled therein. It was her divine authority to designate the sacred king, and to honour him with the wearing of this jewel. He would wear the jewel for a time, spreading its energies throughout the land, then he would return it to the powers of the Earth as a sacrifice, to ensure the fruitfulness and prosperity of the people. A new king would then be chosen.

   Now, Laeviss says that the Vanir continued in this long tradition. Their king would be chosen by the Goddess, and that king would be her consort. As a symbol of this, he wore a braided cord around his neck, or a representation of one. (This sort of idea of a divinely bestowed kingly jewel has survived for a very long time. Even now, we would recognize it as a king's circlet or crown.) After a period of time, he would be sacrificed and a new king chosen.

   The Aesir had abandoned this system ages before. Tyr had been king for a time, then Odin had been declared king, though Tyr didn't die like the sacrificial kings of old. He hung around to give his counsel and to help maintain order. The Aesir were at war with the Vanir, and Odin needed all the help he could get.

   Odin liked being king. He was well-suited for it, being both crafty and wise. There was no better to take his place.

   Freyja had foresight, and could see the fine character that Odin possessed, and what a fine king he was. She saw with her foresight that the world was changing, and what would be the best way to determine that the world changed in a way best suited to her desires. So she sent a messenger, one of the priests or "dogs of the Goddess,"  to Odin to tell him that she was willing to call a truce and end the war. She was willing to join her people with the Aesir and declare Odin king if he would take her as his wife, and that he would not be bound by the fate of the Vanic kings, but that he would be king as long as he liked.

   Odin was already married to a very fine Goddess, indeed, with all of the attributes of an excellent wife. But Odin knew a good thing when he saw one (and he saw a lot of good things about Freyja.) Odin was attracted to strong, confident women, who could give wise counsel when it was called for. There should be no objection to him having a second wife. This war had been dragging on far too long, with no signs of either side gaining ground.

   "Well, this sounds like a good idea. I will agree to it if I get the final say in all matters," Odin sent back. "Oh, and I get to keep your errand boy, too. I can see he has many uses."

   Laeviss says that although he has given vows to serve the Goddess, her order to him has been "Stand your ground in support of the King." He has done this quite happily, he says, ever since. It's what he was made for.

The Laeviss Loki Defense

   Laeviss has been, in turns, amused by and annoyed by the continued debate in certain circles regarding the acceptance or not of Loki as a god among the Aesir, and whether or not he is a being worthy of hailing at sumbel, or anywhere else.

   First of all, Laeviss would like to point out that it is entirely bad form to, on the one hand, state that "Snorri is right" in painting Loki in an evil hue, and then, on the other hand, denying that Loki is a god among the Aesir.  Really? You're telling me that you believe Snorri's view that Loki is evil, yet deny Snorri's statement that Loki counts among the Aesir? Tsk, tsk.

   Most reasonable people, when presented with facts that disprove one's personal beliefs, can move beyond their beliefs and form new opinions. Apparently, most people do not qualify as reasonable. Even when presented with factual, well-researched information on how our ancestors viewed Loki, and how Loki is presented in historic context, many Heathens cling to their personal prejudices. And when the subject of the worship of Loki comes up, a whole lot of Heathens respond like the Vatican when Galileo published a book that suggested that the facts show that the Sun does not revolve around the Earth.

   It's offensive to read responses to the discussion which amount to, "I haven't read that dang-blamed document that's all scholarly and shit, and oh, by the way, I'm going to prove I haven't read it by continuing to use the argument that Loki killed Balder, and he's the enemy of the gods. I'm so invested in my own belief that I avoid anything which might challenge it, or cause me to think and actually form an educated opinion. So there!"

   One thing that Laeviss has learned in his many years on the Earth is how to read between the lines of a document (or listen to the tone of voice and watch body language in a speaker) in order to discover biases that the author (or speaker) may have. Usually, if people are taking the time to write something, they have an agenda, a point of view that they are trying to get across or to push on people. Textbooks do this all the time. They emphasize certain details, and omit others entirely. (Anyone read, "Lies My Teacher Told Me" by James W. Loewen? Definitely worth a look.)

   Laeviss had the opportunity to review many different Heathen books over the years before becoming Heathen himself, or indeed, before having read any of the lore itself. One thing he noticed immediately was that Heathenism was rife with racism and homophobia both, which did not do much to recommend this faith as a personal devotion to Laeviss. (In fact, Laeviss most assuredly avoided it until Odin himself came to personally collect him.)

   One of the crafty Heathen authors that Laeviss read was so clever that he carefully scripted his writings so as to avoid any actual obvious reference to racism, while still subtly turning his readers' minds in that general direction. Others were openly scathing in their condemnation of both homosexuality and "mixing" of the races. These were the same authors who scathingly denounced Loki, and refused to count him among the Aesir. Laeviss can here make an educated guess, due to years of unpleasant personal experience, just what exactly it is about Loki that disturbs some Heathens so much.

   I daresay that in their own circles, those Asatru who are vehemently against Loki probably voice their real objections to Odin's brother fairly clearly. But in a public setting where political correctness is enforced, they must come up with a smoke screen that everyone will endorse as a "good reason" to ban Loki worship. Because they can't mention their real thoughts on the matter.

   So, let's discuss some of these other "reasons,"shall we? How about this one: "Loki is a murderer. He's responsible for Balder's death!" One would have to be a really *bad* lawyer indeed to base a murder case entirely on the testimony of one guy who not only didn't witness the event but had a known reputation for elaborating on details, and ignore the testimony of others who claimed that Loki wasn't involved. (And, even if you *were* going to insist that Snorri's account is the truthful one, even Snorri admits that Loki didn't actually throw the fatal twig. Hod did.) But, based on the most factual evidence the defense has presented, no jury is going to convict Loki of Balder's death.

   So, okay...they can't cry "Balder!" anymore. But, wait! Loki's still a murderer! He killed Fimafeng at the feast of Aegir! Except that we are given no details at all about Fimafeng's death, we are supposed to take the word of the author that Loki killed Aegir's servant out of mere spite or jealousy. And, on this word, we are supposed to brand Loki as unworthy of honor. "See, everybody," they say. "Loki *deserves* to be banned from our worship!"

   Hold on there, little buddy. This is very selective "reasoning" on your part. You are actually saying that I'm to ban all murderous gods from my personal devotions? Well, take off your Thor's hammer, big guy, because Thor is a murderer, too. He murdered the giant that built the wall of Asgard. In cold blood! All because (according to the lore, anyway) the guy rightfully complained that the Aesir were cheating him.

   "Well, that doesn't count, because giants are evil and against the gods and humankind. So, Thor gets a free pass on that murder!" is the usual response when I bring this up. "Really?" I say. "The Aesir seem really keen to accept the assistance of giants when it benefits them, and very keen again to throw them under the wagon when their assistance is no longer useful."

   So, say, we let Thor pass on that. Well, how about dear old murderous Frey? He sent his servant off with a magic sword, and told him to win the fair maiden for him whatever the cost. Apparently, part of the cost was Gerd's brother's death. Now, perhaps Frey didn't wield that sword personally, but he directed the hand who did. So anyone who has ever claimed, "Loki killed Balder, and that's why he is unworthy of worship!" had better be taking their down their godpoles to Frey, because he's a murderer, too.

   And how about Bragi? If we're in the habit of taking everything in the lore as the gospel truth (no cherry picking allowed) we simply must take Loki's word for it that, quite possibly, Bragi is the guy he meant when he accused Idunn of sleeping with her brother's killer. That potentially makes Bragi a murderer, too.

   "Oh, well," you say. "Maybe I won't use the murder argument against Loki anymore. But, instead of voicing my *real* objection to Thor's Traveling Buddy, I'll make up some other, equally-politically-correct-besides-murder, way of excluding him. Oh, yeah...he's a liar! That's the ticket!"

    Laeviss will merely say, at this point, that excluding known liars and oathbreakers from the list of worshipful deities in the Norse pantheon would leave a very vacant throne and both Odin and Tyr trudging off into exile, probably bickering all the while. However, Laeviss has never known of anyone in Asatru even remotely suggesting that Heathens stop worshiping either Odin or Tyr. So, again, this argument against Loki is merely a smokescreen put up to disguise the real reason some people just can't stand the Hound of Freyja.

   So, what is this reason? Basically put, it is homophobia and transphobia. The people who scream the loudest about Loki seem to have a definite issue with acceptance of the diversity of natural human states, such as the continuum of gender and varied sexual orientations. In fact, anything that blurs their rigidly dogmatic lines of what they consider proper gender or sexual orientation code is horribly suspect to them. It states in the lore that Loki has not only become female at times, but has taken the receptive role in sexual intercourse, and this just twists some people's knickers into a knot. This receptive role is never overtly suggested for any other Norse god, therefore it sets Loki apart from the others in terms of both his nature and purpose. The god Odin does admittedly share many attributes with Loki, not the least of which is his gender-bending ways. However, Odin is perceived by most Heathens as a manly god who has employed the guise of a woman *as a means to an end* (that end being the understanding of and ability to employ the magic of seidh.) Odin *had* to walk a mile in a woman's moccasins, so to speak, in order to add to his storehouse of wisdom. Hel, even Thor had to wear a dress in order to reclaim his magic hammer. But, again, this is perceived in Heathenry as a manly god using a woman's guise *as a means to an end.* Loki's so-called "crime" is that this state of being isn't a means to an end for him, it is simply part of his nature. And, to some people, this is more than enough to damn him to an eternity of banishment from "proper Heathenry."

 

Brokk's forge

   "So, you have come," says Brokk, and turns to me, rubbing his dark hands on his leather apron. "I thought you might. But your client had better be a good one. I have little time to spare for pretenders."

"He is a good one. The best." I assure him. I wouldn't be here if he wasn't. I am that certain. Brokk grunts, unconvinced.

   "It's what they all say. They want to make a great chieftain out of a mewling pup. Huh. We can't make a king out of nothing, you have to give us something to work with." His brows crease as he sees I am serious, and he sighs. "Show me, then. And be quick about it. I must mind the bellows. What's his name?"

   There is water trickling down the wall of the cave, into a small cistern. A light glow emanates from within the depths. But the furnace glows hotter.

   "Odin, son of Bor," I say. And I wait.

   Brokk stares silently into the water. Then he chuckles to himself. "Oh, yes. I see him. Well, well...you may have something, here, Earth-Wyrm. You may, indeed. He looks most promising, in fact. A regular strutting peacock. Well!" He turns to his bellows, still chuckling. "There is plenty going on in that skull of his. And already a fine warrior. Has some skill at wordsmithing, too, I see. Well, he'll need all that and more." Brokk faces me again and fixes me with a very hard stare, I am rooted in place like bedrock.

   "You know," he says, conversationally, "that the sort of Ring you are requesting comes with a heavy price."

   "Yes," I say. What else is there to say? If Odin wishes this Ring, it will be his if it is in my power to get it for him. Whatever the cost.

   Brokk turns away, back to his furnace. "It means a load of work for me, too. You can bet I won't take a commission like this without serious pay. Oh, my brother is good, his Rings are legendary. Always work exactly according to their design. But they take a long time to craft, you see. And you must be willing to put in the effort yourselves on your end, or it will be for naught." He works the bellows, sweat dripping down his dark face and into his red beard. His shaven upper lip glistens with it.

   "We'll do it," I say. I am sure, at least, about my own half of the equation. I am in two minds about Odin's desires in the matter. I can remember how he has looked at me, and then again how he has looked at me. He is seeming of two minds, or maybe a mind and a heart divided. I would bridge that gap. I stare down at my fingernails. It will be so, I will to myself.

   Brokk ceases work to look at me again. "Oh, yes-you've picked a fine one. With the favor of the Lady, even. That's good. And there is more than enough willingness on both sides. So you tell Odin, son of Bor that we will undertake this commission from you. And when you come back, be ready to give your vow." He wiped his forehead with a damp cloth. "Any questions, Earth-Wyrm?"

   There can be but one question, and I feel I know the answer. But I ask it anyway. I watch the water trickling down the wall of the cave, into the bowl of the cistern. Water of life, flowing from the heavens to the Earth, and back again, as a gift from one to the other. "The price, " I say. "I need to know what it will cost me."

   Brokk chuckles again, and his eyes light up like fireflies in the dark. He smiles, then, a great, wide grin that bares his double rows of sharp, pointy teeth. "There is but one price for that Ring, Earth-Wyrm. And it is blood. Yours. All of it, mind. You will pledge your head to this work, sorcerer. You come with that pledge, and Odin will get his Ring."

Ivaldi's Cave

I squeeze myself through the rock, tunneling and burrowing my way along past the familiar pathways. To access the Dwarven realm one must traverse the unfamiliar pathways. I pass their subtle signposts, then their obvious ones, each promising very painful consequences to all who trespass here. When I come to the really large one that reads, "Keep out, fools!" I know I am almost there. Then I abruptly enter Ivaldi's cave. It is large, fashioned like a gigantic hall of men.

Groaner doesn't even look up from his work. Grunt makes his characteristic sound, apparently in welcome. I can see some of the other brothers at work in the hall, but they pay me no heed. I bid them greetings, and offer hope of prosperity in their work. They continue on with their forging. I wait.

Grunt finally responds, "Still haven't learned to read, then, Piece of Dirt?"

"Peace. I work this ground for peace. And your sign says for fools to keep out. But I am not a fool." I answer.

"Huh," he grunts. "What do you want this time? The Ship not big enough for you?" The Dwarves have little time for anyone merely coming to chat. They will try with gruffness to frighten away those who are not truly interested in their wares and willing to pay. For the really foolish who venture here, they might be unpleasant, indeed.

"Oh, the Ship is splendid! I am merely making a social call. Just to tell you I have a new client, and he is interested in your smithcraft." It is not done to get right to business with the Dwarves. If they know what you want straight off, the price goes up.

"Huh." Grunt is a being of few words. "Have you traded up or down?" He didn't think much of Gunnar-Frey. I thought that to his credit.

"Oh, definitely up." I am looking forward to proving this, and I think that I would like it to stay proven. I shove the thought away, but Groaner catches the drift. He finally becomes interested in my presence.

"Oh, we could help with that. Yes, indeed." Groaner is always looking for a commission. "The Unquenchable Spear. Doubly good, on the battlefield a sure winner. And in more private fields of battle, well it works just as well there. Always ready at hand, so to speak. Never lets you down."

"Well, " I say, carefully hiding my enthusiasm for the product, "I don't know that my client would ever need such a thing. His prowess in both fields of battle is well known."

"Huh," responds Grunt, squinting as a flare burst forth from the furnace. "We can improve upon any client's performance. No question."

"Can't imagine a client who would turn down the Unquenchable Spear," adds Groaner, working the bellows. "And the greater the natural stature of the client, the more magnified the result. You know that."

"Well," I answer, "It does sound interesting...but can you make, say, a Ring of Glamour?" I mention the least of all possible Rings, just to sound them out.

"Pfft," spits Groaner. "With our eyes closed, we could make such a thing. I thought you said your client was a man? What, is he ugly?" He sees my face, and laughs. "Oh, you mean for diplomatic measures. Sure, we can make a handsome face even more pleasant and his words more palatable to the listener. Child's play."

"Well, he is handsome enough, and skilled already in diplomacy. I don't know that you can improve much there, either." There is always room for growth in these matters. But I don't admit it. I pause. Then, I ask, "Can you make a Ring of Wealth?" Just for measure.

"Huh," Grunt grunts. It sounds like an assent. He eyes his brother. There is a wordless exchange between them.

Groaner calls one of his other brothers over to mind the bellows for him.  He turns to me, wiping his sturdy brown hands on his leather apron. "Care for a drink?" he asks. They realize now that I am in the market, and will work it until they get the commission from me.

"Sure," I say. "I'm always thirsty." He leads me over to a side alcove, where there are tables and benches, and waves me onto a seat. There is another Dwarf there, very dark, with a red beard and a shaven upper lip, and a very large mug of ale. Groaner carefully steers me to the table farthest away from him before continuing our conversation.

"Your client not giving you enough to drink? Isn't that in your job description? Milking the bull?" he laughs, but mildly. He doesn't care one way or the other, as long as he gets paid either way. I laugh along with him.

"There will be plenty of bull's milk for me," I assure him. The energy from such an exchange can keep the forges going a great while. He is satisfied, and pours me an ale, along with one for himself.

"To your new client," he toasts, and I hear him mentally add, "and to all of the wealth the commission brings the Sons of Ivaldi." He takes a long drink, then sets his mug down on the table.

"Now, what is it you want, exactly?" he is very direct, in the way of Dwarves.

"The Unquenchable Spear does sound promising," I tell him, "but can it do anything for a client well-gifted in these matters already?" I sip my drink carefully. The ale of Dwarves is a strong one.

"Sure, sure. You know this already. He won't be disappointed. Once forged, the spear will never-" he paused for effect, one large finger tapping the board for emphasis, "and I do mean never, let the client down. Always a winner. When at rest, it stays at rest, but when called to hand, so to speak, well! It's ready to do battle. And always hits its mark. Now, what client wouldn't love that? Eh? And the benefits are there for you, as well!" he nudged me conspiratorially, winking.

I smile at this, and nod. It does sound appealing. But I am really after the greatest of Rings, though I can't allow him to know this, yet. I sip my ale thoughtfully. "I'd like to see this Spear in action!" I assure him. Then I ask again, "What about a Ring of Wealth?"

Groaner leans back, contemplating the possibility. He says finally, "You mean your man's a handsome, upright sort of fellow, just lacking in funds, then?" I nod. Groaner takes a good, long drink, pondering. "Well, we can fix that. Why not? A Ring of Wealth should be no problem."

The red-bearded Dwarf at the far side of the other table snorts derisively. Groaner glares at him. "You pay him no mind," he tells me. "He's just passing through. Just leaving," here Groaner leans on the very word as if to force the issue, "in fact."

Redbeard heaves himself up from his bench and saunters over to our table. "You want Rings of Power?" he says to me. "Why settle for anything less than the best? My brother, Sindri, is the best Ring crafter in Swartalfheim. His Rings are legendary. I doubt anything the Sons of Ivaldi craft can come close to topping Sindri's work."

Groaner stands, hands carefully placed on the tabletop. "Says who?" he spits out angrily.

Redbeard leans into Groaner so that their faces practically touch. "Says I, Brokk!" He responds confidently. He is very, very sure of his words.

"If you weren't of my mother's kin, I'd take it out of your hide," hisses Groaner. "No one's works can top the works of the Sons of Ivaldi." They stand, bristling at each other, ready to boil over in a moment. I can see the surety in Brokk's eyes, and the slight quaver in Groaner's. I know who I will back in this fight. But I can see usefulness and profit to us all in stopping this short of battle.

"So, a wager, then," I propose. "The Sons of Ivaldi to craft their best item for my client, and Brokk and his brother to craft their best for him, as well. Then we shall let the client choose among them whose work is finest."

I see Groaner leap to the challenge. "Done," he states. "Upon my word, Loki, we shall craft the Unquenchable Spear for your new client."

I clench hands with Groaner in agreement, and turn to Brokk, who shakes his head. "We do no work unless it pays well, very well, and the client is worthy of it." His coal-black eyes bore into my own.  "Very worthy." he repeats. " I will take your wager, little Earth-Wyrm, when you pledge payment for the commission, and when you prove the worthiness of this client. You come to Sindri's forge and show me this client of yours. Then we shall prove whose word and whose anvil rings true." Brokk downed his mug and whacked it solidly on the table before taking his leave.

I follow Groaner back over to where Grunt is working. Grunt gives the evil eye to his brother. He knows Brokk was talking to us. He knows it might mean the loss of future custom for him. Groaner ignores the glare, and gets back to work. But he speaks wordlessly to his brother all the same, while I wait.

Grunt listens silently, then turns to me, a red light just barely illuminating his dark eyes. "Don't mind my cousin, he's always been a rude, surly sort of fellow. Very boastful, too. Can't believe a word he says." Grunt tells me.

"I could see it in his eyes," I respond, though I don't mention what it was. I'd like to keep on good terms with both of these contacts, thank you very much.

"I see we have your commission for the Unquenchable Spear," Grunt says. "Though no promise of payment. It'll be enough to beat the snot out of my distant cousin. Always bragging about his brother's work. But we'll show him. The Unquenchable Spear is one of our finest products. Give me a shout when you're ready to send the energy for it."

"How long will it take to craft?" I inquire.

Grunt is thoughtful. "Depends." he answers. "Who is your new client?"

"Odin, son of Bor. Chief of the Aesir."

"Huh." Grunt searches through the realms. "I see him. Shouldn't take long, not for that one. Once or twice if you do your job well. You're a good channel for energy. Should work well for you. Now I'm back to work." I feel my dismissal. I crawl back into the rock.

About halfway home, I feel a tugging on my sleeve. It is Brokk. He has waited for me, away from Ivaldi's hall.

"So, you have a keen interest in Rings, do you?" he asks. I see no reason to deny what he already knows.

"Yes. For my client."

"Just the two? Wealth and Glamour?" his eyes begin to sparkle in the dark of the underground. "There are others, you know. Why stop at two?"

"Really, how skilled is your brother at crafting such Rings?" I ask him. "To add more than one or two charms to such a thing would surely be difficult at best." I had envisioned decades of the Dwarves meticulously crafting one Ring at a time as Odin and I became older and grayer.

Brokk laughs softly. "Oh, it can be done. For a very worthy client, it can be done. And Sindri has a specialty, a Ring of Power so grand in scope, so wound with powerful enchantment that they call it the King-Maker."

All right, he definitely has sparked my interest. "How many enchantments?" I murmur.

"Oh, it has the wealth. Limitless, self-regenerating wealth. More money than any man should hope to see in his lifetime. And glamour by far. People will find your client irresistibly attractive in whatever way he needs them to. Provides luck in home, marriage and family. Brings political power along with impressive persuasive abilities. Provides a constant excellent reputation, too. Brings with it strong, loyal allies. And fame. Not the least of its charms! Outstanding, realm-wide fame and the highest social standing. In fact, " he chuckles further, "we call this little bauble's many woven charms the "luck-fame.""

I am about bedazzled by this description. This is exactly what Odin is looking for. I try to keep the joy from lighting my face. He knows he has whetted my appetite. He smiles, showing bright, pointy teeth. He knows he has me.

"Come to Sindri's forge and show me your client. Then, we'll talk more." Brokk abruptly dissolves into the stone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.