The farmhands gave Halfdan wary looks, seeing a stranger armed to the teeth enter the yard of their homestead, even if his hands were empty. The harsh expression on his face did little to alleviate their apprehensions. “I seek your master,” the berserker declared. One of them nodded and trudged towards the longhouse while the others remained where they were, holding pitchforks, flails, and other equipment that could serve as weapons. The clanging of hammer against anvil ceased, and the smith emerged from his forge, adding his tool and strong arm to the others.

  Halfdan was not surprised by their attitude. His clothes were torn and bloody. He had a hammer and a sword in his belt, the latter without scabbard, adding to the oddity of his appearance.

  He looked to the well, which reminded him how thirsty he was. But he was a stranger without invitation or bonds to this place, and it would be a breach of hospitality to help himself before asking leave or even introducing himself. He was weary and hungry as well, but any sign of weakness might invite disdain, so he remained standing.

  At length, a J?tun appeared in the doorway of the longhouse, dressed in fine garments and adorned with gold. There could be no doubt as to his status. With a condescending smile, he approached the berserker. “Well met, stranger. I am Loki, master of these lands. Who comes to my home with the dust of the road upon him?”

  “I am Halfdan,” he spoke with an even voice, trying not to feel irritated by the smirk sent his way. “I seek your hospitality.”

  “I’m sure you do. But tell me, Halfdan of Midgard, why should I extend such courtesy to a warrior blessed by Odin?”

  As Freydis had presumably suspected, this Utgarda-Loki had the power to not only read gifts, but see through any deception. Halfdan abandoned any ideas of falsehood and decided to rely purely on the truth. “I pursue Loki. The other, he of the Aesir.”

  “Not that he’s in good standing with them,” the J?tun replied with a smile. “You are the one I was warned about, Odin’s hound pursuing the fugitive. My men?”

  “Those you sent to the tombs? They’re dead.” Halfdan rested his hands on his belt by the weapons he had looted from them. “As for Loki, he escaped to Myrkheim. I seek to pursue him.”

  “I’m sure you do. And as you’re not one of my people, I may even overlook that you entered a place I have decreed forbidden. But that does not mean I have any reason to help you.” Utgarda-Loki smiled again, and his servants, still wielding their tools, seemed to slowly approach, encircling Halfdan.

  The berserker did not fear them; he had slaughtered the same number in the underground chambers, and these did not even have proper weapons. But he knew Freydis had feared their master for a reason. “He is your enemy as well, is he not? He seeks the destruction of the realms. Including your pleasant little homestead. I would have thought you’d be grateful that someone else spills blood and sweat to apprehend him.”

  The J?tun released a sigh. “I know the Aesir far better than you, including their king. You think that you are the only force that stands between us and our doom? That the cunning Odin does not have schemes within schemes?” His expression turned into an overbearing smile. “Have you ever played hnefatafl? The king sacrifices every pawn first. Just as I sent my warriors to the tombs, so does Odin send his dogs to do his bidding. I’ll start to worry when I hear tale that the old one-eyed rascal has come to do his own dirty work.”

  “Master,” a voice spoke up.

  Utgarda-Loki appeared irritated at the interruption, but he looked towards the speaker, who had appeared in the doorway of the longhouse. “What is it?”

  “You can’t offer sustenance or shelter to him.”

  Halfdan stared at the newcomer, wondering what on earth had made him feel it necessary to interject himself in the conversation. Did none of these J?tnar understand the danger that Loki posed?

  “And why, my good Baugi, do you presume to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

  “Because he killed my brother, and I warned him to stay out of my sight. Now that he appears before me, I must do what honour demands.” The J?tun stared intensely at Halfdan. “I must avenge my brother’s blood, spilt by his hand.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Halfdan finally remembered. The very day he had come to J?tunheim, he had been ambushed by a J?tun in the shape of a bear. After killing him, his brother had appeared. “That wasn’t the deal,” the berserker growled. “You told me to leave your lands, and I did! It’s not my fault you decided to come to the same place as me.”

  “Master Loki, I can’t deny my duty. Twice my brother’s killer has stood before me. Should I do nothing and let him appear unharmed before me a third time?”

  “If you help me get to Myrkheim, that won’t be a problem,” Halfdan muttered.

  Utgarda-Loki raised a hand. “Quiet. Let me think.” His eyes darted from servant to stranger and back until his smirk returned. “I will let fate decide if you’re worthy of my help, Halfdan of Midgard… or if Baugi deserves his revenge. In any case, we shall have some spectacle.” He laughed, and his people joined in – all except for the J?tun sworn to vengeance, whose stony demeanour mirrored Halfdan’s.

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  “If I must kill one of your numbers, I’ll gladly do so. But I warn you,” the berserker said. “I fight with fury, and once I begin, I only stop when there are none left to kill.”

  “Consider us warned,” Utgarda-Loki replied with an overbearing tone of voice. “Men, stand back. Let our combatants have some room.”

  They did as told, though not nearly far enough to escape Halfdan’s wrath once his berserker rage began. But that would be their problem, not his. Drawing his weapons, he turned towards his enemy.

  *

  While the berserker stood, armed and prepared, the J?tun began disrobing. Halfdan wondered for a moment if he intended to fight naked until he realised the reason why. Like his brother, this Baugi had the gift of shapeshifting.

  Halfdan should have guessed as much, and it did make the fight less predictable. The berserker did not fear any warrior who came against him, but he had fought shapeshifters as both bear and wolf, and both times, he had received help from his companions; he was not sure he would have won those fights on his own.

  On the other hand, he knew this type of enemy better now, and he was a much stronger warrior than the Halfdan who had first come to J?tunheim. His choice of plundered weaponry served him; his axe had not been strong enough to cut through the thick hide of these beasts, but a hammer could deliver blows without the need to penetrate fur, and the short sword could strike vulnerabilities in a nimble way that a two-handed axe did not allow for.

  “Get on with it,” he called out. If the J?tun did not hurry up, Halfdan would strike him down where he stood.

  His enemy, unfazed, had finished disrobing. Suddenly, his body shook, and he fell forwards to stand on all four. Thick hair sprouted all over his body, his hands became wide and heavy, and his nails turned to claws. His nose and mouth extended, and his teeth grew until long and sharp. Leaning his head back, the bear roared and charged.

  Calm, Halfdan waited until the beast was within range. He swung his hammer with all the might that [Strength of Body] lent him, despite the absence of his rage. He struck the bear straight on his head, and the force sufficed to momentarily stun the creature, arresting its charge. As its mouth stood open, tongue lolling, Halfdan thrust the sword so deep, the bear ended up eating it all the way to the hilt. As his fingers scraped the creature’s teeth, Halfdan finally let go and watched the bear fall to the ground, dead.

  While the fight had felt unnecessary, Halfdan noticed one advantage gained; another Seed of Power had joined his tree, ready to be spent when needed. Killing J?tnar was good for his gift, it seemed.

  He could not measure the reaction of the onlookers, however; they stood in silence, no emotions shown on their expressions. They seemed indifferent to the J?tun’s death, one way or the other; not even amused by the spectacle. The only one who appeared interested at all was their master. He looked down at the dead Baugi, transformed back into a naked man. “A shame. He was a decent tenant.”

  Halfdan regarded Utgarda-Loki. “You have had your sport. Now will you help me?”

  The J?tun watched him with cool eyes before he nodded. “This man is my guest. He is to be shown hospitality in my lands.” With those words, it felt like a spell had been broken; the farmhands all walked away, resuming their work. “Come along, Halfdan of Midgard. You look famished.”

  A true assessment, and knowing that the laws of hospitality protected him, Halfdan allowed himself to relax and follow Utgarda-Loki into his longhouse. As the size suggested from the outside, it was more like a mead hall, having a table big enough to easily seat forty or fifty people. In addition, benches along the walls allowed for more guests or else to act as beds.

  Thralls moved to and from, carrying out the necessary tasks to maintain such a hall and prepare for the evening meal. “Bring food and ale for my guest,” their master commanded, and some of them hurried away. “Come, sit.”

  Halfdan did so, and his host took place opposite him at the table. “Can you get me to Myrkheim?”

  A condescending smile met him. “You don’t waste time! Alas, I don’t have the skill to travel between the realms.”

  “I was told you did.”

  “I’m sure my people tell many rumours concerning me, and I see no reason to discourage that.” Utgarda-Loki’s smile was only allowed to fade briefly before it returned in full force. “But the Aesir keep such knowledge guarded. There is the gate made by the perfidious little creatures, the Dwarves, but it requires the skill to wield runes. Something your master knows all about, but not us simple J?tnar.”

  “I can wield the runes,” Halfdan acknowledged. “But I’m not powerful enough to open the gate.”

  The J?tun’s smile grew wider. “Is that all? Power is something I do know. No need to worry then, Halfdan of Midgard. I will get you the power you need to journey hence.”

  Food and drink were brought in and placed before them. The master of the house gestured for his guest to eat. For a moment, Halfdan was apprehensive; yet even J?tnar respected hospitality, and so he slaked his thirst and grabbed a bone filled with meat.

  With laughter, Utgarda-Loki grabbed his own nourishment and joined in. “Not bad, eh? Even the Aesir were well treated when they came to my home as guests. Including Loki of Asgard, back when the worlds were not yet wounded by Odin’s fears.”

  He referred to the hostility caused by the prophecy given to Odin, Halfdan surmised, though he did not care. Such ancient history was not his concern, only the present. “How can you help me?”

  “As you wield steel, I wield sorcery. I’ll help you open the gate, berserker, and you shall leave my home with gifts. More than that, I’ll take you to the gate myself and see you on your way.” Utgarda-Loki’s customary smile moved between overbearing and genuine, difficult to interpret. They continued eating and drinking; once they had shared the meal, the host got up. “Rest now. There shall be more food once my people return from their work. You shall sleep here tonight, and when dawn breaks, we’ll get you on your way to Myrkheim. And if you see the Aesir, ask them if they remember J?tun-Loki and his hospitality!” His laughter resounded between the walls as he walked the length of the longhouse before disappearing outside.