Halfdan did not readily understand what was happening or why Thor had called for a truce, but he was in favour of anything that got the pummelling to cease. His legs were mostly unhurt, so he had no trouble standing or walking; his arms were another matter.
“Come along. Let’s speak elsewhere than this butcher’s field.” Thor gestured for Halfdan to follow him; the berserker hesitated, glancing at his hammer on the ground. “Your weapon will be here when you return,” Thor declared.
Not like Halfdan was in a position to refuse or even able to lift his hammer. He needed time, lots of it, for [Mend Your Wounds]. So he followed the thunder god. A path had naturally opened up, the einherjar parting to allow them passage. They all stared with a variety of emotions, but nobody spoke or moved other than to get out of the way.
It took a while before they were not only away from the battlefield and its corpses, but also with some distance to the warriors. When they were out of earshot, Thor exhaled and turned to look at Halfdan. “What a strange night it has been.” The horizon had begun to brighten, though the sun was yet to rise. “Loki was my closest friend. Did you know?”
Halfdan shook his head, still unsure what was going on, but happy to spend time talking rather than fighting. He understood his people well enough to know they would not be idle, and every hour, more converts to their cause might emerge from Myrkheim.
“We travelled together. He got me out of a few tight spots. Once, when my hammer was stolen, we had to…” Thor chuckled to himself. “Never mind.” His demeanour became serious again. “If I had fought him now, instead of you, I’d have done anything to spare his life. Not out of pity, but spite. I wanted him to suffer for an eternity, back in his cage.” The god’s face became twisted with anger. “He killed my brother whom we all loved. Stole his light from us.” The flash of emotions seemed to seep away. “I tried to visit him once. Baldr. Went to Hel. Found nothing but a vast, empty plain. That damnable spawn of Loki hid him from me.”
Still none the wiser as to Thor’s point, yet not wishing to interrupt, Halfdan kept quiet.
“I tell you this that you might understand how complicated the situation is. I was angry when I found out you’d killed Loki. He deserved to suffer endlessly.” Thor’s thumb ran over the short hammer in his belt. “I came to fight you in his stead, give you the same fate. But you’re nothing like him, are you, Halfdan-Loki? You inherited his powers, his path, but not his personality.”
“Thankfully.”
Thor snorted. “Indeed. He’d never get up after the first punch to take another. He’d turn tail and run. But you stared certain death in the face and came back for more.”
“Didn’t see much point in running.”
“Quite.” The thunder god’s thumb ran over his weapon once again. “You fight for more than just yourself.”
“Don’t we all?”
No response came at first, and when Thor finally spoke, his voice and demeanour had changed. “Freya told me about the Vanir’s prediction. That you won’t go through with it.”
At last, it dawned on Halfdan. Thor was not simply here as his father’s mindless weapon, destroying a threat. Whatever the cause, he was in doubt about his course of action. Or maybe even looking for a reason to change directions.
“What say you as the one making the decision? When it comes time to cast the final spell and break the last bone, will you see it through?”
Halfdan considered his reply, realising he was caught. If he affirmed his decision to unleash Ragnar?k, Thor would have every reason to knock him out and throw him into a cage. But if he admitted any hesitation, Odin would call his bluff rather than agree to negotiate another outcome. Halfdan could only give one answer. “I’ll keep my own counsel on that.”
Another snort. “For once, you sound like him. Loki.” Thor released a drawn-out sigh. “This would have been so much easier with him. In the end, he was a sleazy scoundrel, and I’d gladly see him tormented for ages to come. But you, Halfdan of Midgard, I’m not so sure about.”
It seemed a risk to remind Thor of what was at stake, yet Halfdan felt he needed to say something to sway the thunder god in his direction. “When you speak of Ragnar?k, unlike others, there’s no fear in your voice.”
“Hah! What do I have to fear? You think I don’t know the foretelling intimately?”
The berserker knew what it was like to have his death foretold, both as Halfdan and as Loki. He was not sure knowing was better than ignorance, but he kept it to himself.
“J?rmungandr will break the boundaries of the realms. The great serpent will bring down mountains and raise the seas, thrashing them as it slithers forward to bite the roots of Yggdrasil and fill them with its venom.” As he spoke, Thor stood with closed eyes briefly before he opened them to look at Halfdan, a smile evoking superiority on his lips. “The strongest and most terrible creature in all the nine worlds. And I’m not only destined to fight it, but kill it. I shall watch its eyes close as it falls beneath my feet. It’ll be the greatest duel ever fought, and I, the greatest warrior.”
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You’ll also die, as will the rest of us. Another thought Halfdan figured should remain unspoken.
“Of course, its venom will kill me afterwards.” Thor shrugged as if he had casually mentioned the likelihood of rain tomorrow. “But all will know of my deed. Those that survive the flames, those that return, will speak of it. People like my brother.”
Thor spoke the final word with such warmth, Halfdan was taken aback. He had met Baldr twice now without being particularly impressed; a thousand years in Hel’s company would dim anyone’s light, probably. It was odd to remember that Baldr had a family, and even after all these years, they missed him. Halfdan realised the irony a moment later. Baldr would only escape Hel once Ragnar?k occurred, in which case, Thor would be dead. There could never be a reunion of the brothers.
Something Thor was undoubtedly also aware of, and yet another thing Halfdan did not need to mention. Instead, he spoke another truth about something he understood well – the glory of battle. “I envy you that knowledge, that future.”
The thunder god gave him a half-smile. “From one berserker to another, I’d expect nothing else.”
Halfdan had not realised this about Thor’s powers, but it made all too much sense. What gift might the strongest warrior have if not this one? It also reminded Halfdan that in their duel, Thor had held back. If he had gone berserk, he would have killed Halfdan and anyone else too slow to escape. What daunted Halfdan was the knowledge that Thor had still won handily.
“So be it,” Thor declared. Halfdan blinked, wondering if he had misheard. “Either Odin is right, or Freya is. Either way, I accept the outcome. I tire of being my father’s lackey,” he continued. “He sent a berserker to do his bidding. Let him deal with the consequences.” The thunder god looked directly at Halfdan; in the distance, the sun had finally taken its first step to rise above the horizon. “I give you this day and the following night as truce. Collect your dead, make your preparations as you wish. But I warn you that my father will come, and he will not take pity or be swayed. When the sun rises tomorrow, this must all reach its end, one way or another.”
“I understand.” Halfdan held out his hand, which by now had healed. Thor reached out and grabbed him by the wrist in a silent agreement, bound by honour. Together, they turned and began walking back towards the battlefield. As they did, Halfdan closed his eyes quickly to examine the tree of his gift. A new Seed lay at the roots, glowing with power. A reward, perhaps for the battle, perhaps simply for surviving – he was both berserker and Loki, after all. Regardless, it was his. He had everything now he needed for Ragnar?k.
*
On their way, they came to the remains of Thor’s chariot, the wheels destroyed by the rough landing. One goat remained standing, still harnessed; its companion lay dead thanks to Freydis’ throw.
“Sorry about your goat,” Halfdan mumbled.
The thunder god pulled out the javelin from his dead draught animal. “She’s had worse.” He looked at Halfdan. “Return to your people, Halfdan-Loki. I don’t imagine we’ll speak again.”
Unlikely, Halfdan acknowledged; if they were to meet a second time, it would be in battle. With no need for further words, he simply bowed his head in farewell and left.
The einherjar pulled back, honouring Thor’s truce. Walking against the stream of warriors was eerie, especially without his weapon; the berserker felt vulnerable, and he could sense their hatred of him. They had no understanding of his purpose or reasons; to them, the afterlife was marvellous and Odin their benefactor. Halfdan threatened all of that.
But none raised a hand or blade against him. They did not even get in his way, but moved around him before he got close. Tracing his own path back, Halfdan eventually came across his hammer, left where he dropped it. As promised. He picked it up and felt the immediate relief of no longer being unarmed.
Continuing, he finally moved past the remainder of the einherjar. Ahead, he saw the earthworks of their improvised fortress, protecting their camp. Plenty of shapes stood atop, watching the host of Asgard leave the field. At the sight of the lone figure approaching them, one of the shapes broke from the mass, blinking across the ditch and running towards Halfdan.
He let his hammer fall to embrace Freydis with both arms, holding her as tightly as she clung to him. “I thought he’d kill you.”
The whispered words made the hairs on Halfdan’s neck rise. “So did I,” he admitted. He had always known that not every fight could be won through brute force; plenty of times, he had found victory thanks to his wit. But this had been a battle that neither strength nor cunning could have won for him. Despite all his close encounters with other powerful enemies, Halfdan had always prevailed, one way or the other; it was chilling to realise that some battles could only be lost. “But I’m still here. You? Sif?”
“We’re both fine. Minor scrapes, perhaps, nothing to worry about.” She pulled back, and her clenched expression revealed how much it took to keep any tears from appearing. “But your people have taken losses,” she continued, steering the subject away from themselves. “At least half are dead, I think.”
Guilt struck Halfdan. They were dead because they had followed him into battle, trusted him. “As many are wounded, I imagine.” He began walking towards the camp, picking up his hammer; Freydis followed alongside. “I can help with that.” He would be busy carving rune stones for the next hours, but if it saved anyone, it would be worth it.
As they came close, to Halfdan’s surprise, a roar went up from the assembled J?tnar. They raised their fists to the sky and chanted his name. Having expected dour looks and accusations of leading them to their deaths, the berserker did not know what to make of this. “Do they think we’ve won?” he asked quietly.
“You’re the only one who has ever fought Thor and survived. If they believed in you before, their zeal will have doubled by now.”
“Not sure my performance is worth all this exuberance.”
“None of that,” Freydis chastised him. “You are their leader. Your task is to encourage and inspire them. Especially if there’s to be another battle like today. They’ll need every bit of courage.”
It felt deceitful, claiming some kind of victory simply because Thor had decided to honour Halfdan’s courage rather than paint the snow with his innards, but she was right. With a smile he hoped did not look as hollow as it felt, Halfdan raised one hand with a triumphant fist. His people responded in kind. This morning, they felt like victors. The feeling might not last beyond the next sunrise.
