Free Loki by Mike Vasich

faith. Frey and Freyja went to live with the Aesir in Asgard, and became two of their most trusted and loved advisers. The Aesir never discovered Freyja's role in causing the war. For their part, the Aesir sent long-legged Honir and wise Mimir.
    Honir and Mimir quickly became well-loved by the Vanir, for when they were together, their counsel was wise beyond measure. When they were apart, however, Honir could not be counted on to give such wise advice. He stammered and said nothing more wise than, “We shall think on it.”
    The Vanir felt deceived by the Aesir, and meant to show those gods what they thought of their exchange. They came upon wise Mimir when he was alone, held him down, and cut his head off.
    Odin gathered Mimir's head and spoke the sacred runes to give it life once again. It sits in his divining chamber, there to consult whenever the High One has a pressing need. Mimir was wise in life, but has become even more so in death . . .

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
    The severed head of his friend sat on Odin's knee, the High One's hand resting on top of it. Its eyes were open, but it appeared lifeless. There was no spark of consciousness, no flaring of nostrils, no twitch of the mouth. It had a waxy appearance which made it look almost unreal, although a closer inspection would reveal the tell-tale signs that it had once been attached to a body.
    Odin had fetched the head himself after the Vanir had hacked it off of Mimir's body. They had left it at the Well of Urd, knowing that he would find it there. He had seen them behead his friend countless times in visions, had seen them deposit it at the well, thinking they would shock or anger him with this act of violence against his wisest friend. But they did not know that he had sent Mimir to them even after he had seen the visions. He had known exactly what would happen, and he had come to the well that day knowing exactly what he would find.
    It was not difficult for him to chant the runes while smearing the head with sacred herbs, bringing it back to life and returning to it the ability to speak. He remembered well the look on his friend's face when he opened his eyes and said his first words. They were faint and raspy, but they were clear enough for Odin to understand. Odin had simply nodded once, then tucked his friend's head into a sack and returned with it to Asgard. Even now, Mimir's first words echoed back at him, a symbol of his curse and his responsibility. “You knew,” he had said.
    “ Where is Loki now?” Odin asked.
    The eyes moved slightly, but they did not appear to be seeing anything. They were like the eyes of a blind man. The mouth opened and closed, like a fish gasping for breath. Odin leaned in closer.
    “ He plans . . .” the head of Mimir said, his voice the sound of wind whispering.
    “ What does he plan?”
    Again the mouth gaped, but the eyes became more focused, looking around and taking in their limited perspective.
    “ A journey . . .”
    Odin sighed with impatience. Mimir's head was ever like this. His detachment from the Nine Worlds allowed him to see things that even Odin could not see, but he was never direct and straightforward. He spoke in hints and riddles, and it was tedious at times to get anything from him. Odin wondered if it was his way to get back at him in whatever slight way he could. But he could not refuse to answer altogether; the runes compelled him.
    “ To the Norns?”
    “ Yes . . .”
    Odin nodded. He had seen that as well, but it was satisfying to have his vision confirmed. He stood and cradled the head, walking over to a pedestal in his chamber. He placed the head on the pedestal and stared up at the night sky. It was daytime outside, but here it was always night, and he could always see the star-filled sky when he looked up.
    He looked back down at Mimir. “What will they tell him?”
    “ Nothing . . . and everything . . .”
    “ He will ask about the mason. What will they tell him?”
    “ They