Sif and the Dwarfs' Treasures

by Joan Holub

  Although most Vingolf pods contained girls from the same world, the four Thunder Girls were different. Freya was from Vanaheim. Sif and Idun were from Asgard. And Skade was a half-giant who’d grown up spending time in both Asgard and Jotunheim. She could enlarge to only half the height of regular giants such as Angerboda.

  “Ow!” As Sif entered her pod, she tripped over one of Skade’s boots, stubbing her toe. That girl had a dozen pairs of boots at least! Sif and their other podmates, Freya and Idun, were constantly tripping over them, because Skade often forgot to leave her boots on the racks by the outer doors. Instead she’d shuck them off inside the pod and leave them lying wherever they fell.

  Freya sat up in her podbed, a six-foot-long hammock made from one of Yggdrasil’s seedpods. She watched Sif hop around on one foot holding her hurt foot in both hands. Wearing only her linen underdress, the girlgoddess had been lying on her back, reading a runebook. The illustration on its cover showed a wooden woman with flowing hair—a ship’s carved figurehead. From the cover, Sif guessed that the book was for Norse History class.

  “You okay?” Freya asked. The light coming in through the room’s only window made the natural silver glitter in her pale-blond hair shimmer. All the Vanir (which was what the goddesses and gods of Vanaheim were called) had flecks of silver in their hair that glittered when caught by light, like dozens of tiny winking stars!

  “Yeah, fine.” Sif leaned one hand on the wall for balance. Rubbing her foot, she called out sweetly, “Hey, kitties.”

  In response, Freya’s two gray tabby cats raised their heads to look over at Sif, before snuggling more tightly together at the end of Freya’s podbed and purring more loudly. Though they were currently the size of regular cats, they were magical and could enlarge to pull Freya’s flying cart. And whenever necessary, Freya could shrink them and the cart down to a cat’s-eye marble, which she kept in a small leather pouch, one of several pouches that dangled from the many necklaces she always wore. Mostly, the tabby cats spent lots of time hanging out in Vingolf Hall, though, like now.

  “No parties tonight? Where is everyone?” Sif asked, noticing that their other two podmates weren’t around. She hung her gray wool cloak on the reindeer antler coatrack nailed to the back of their pod door. She was kind of surprised that Freya wasn’t out in the hall’s common area, since she liked hanging out and making friends more than just about anything. And that girl could turn practically any activity into a party. Homework party. Snack party. Jewelry-making party (her favorite kind, since she loved jewelry). Which was pretty great, since these parties helped all four Thunder Girls befriend other students.

  And that was exactly what Principal Odin wanted, of course. For students from each of the worlds to mingle and make friends. He wished them to understand and appreciate everyone’s differences, in hopes that their example would lead the way in promoting harmony between all nine worlds. So far, except for Freya’s parties, everyone in the dorms had pretty much stuck to their own groups, though. Hopefully this would change in time.

  Freya set her book aside and swung her feet over the edge of her podbed, looking pleased to have company. “Not sure where Idun is, but Skade left to go shopping at Midgard Mall.” She grinned, her pale-blue eyes sparkling. “Get this—for new boots.”

  “Noooo!” Sif made a face of pretend horror. “As if we need more of those trip-hazards of hers around here!”

  Freya giggled as Sif nudged the offending boot that had tripped her up earlier against the pod wall, where it would be more out of the way. “In fact,” Sif went on, “maybe you should hold a boot-trading party so Skade could get rid of some of the ones she already has.”

  “Yeah, but you know she’d just trade for different boots,” said Freya, making them both laugh.

  Sif’s hair had gotten a bit tangled during the day, so she fished a small mirror from the pocket of her hangerock, grabbed her comb, and started running it through her hair. In the mirror’s reflection she saw Freya watching her. “Hey! I have an even better idea than a boot-trading party,” Freya announced suddenly. “Let’s have a hairstyling party! For you!”

  “Huh? Oh, I’m not sure,” Sif began, tucking her mirror away.

  Quickly Freya reached for the book she’d been reading. Still on her podbed, she paged through it and then showed Sif a picture of a beautifully carved mermaid figurehead. The mermaid’s hair was a mass of thin braids that looped every which way. “This style would look fabulous on you. And even if you decide you don’t like it, you can always comb it back out.”

  Still, Sif hesitated. Her golden hair was her pride and joy. And she’d always worn it long and straight, or else in a simple ponytail, often adorned with ribbons, barrettes, headbands, clips, or decorative combs.

  “C’mon. It’ll be fun. Promise!” Freya urged.

  “Well . . . okay,” Sif said at last, allowing herself to be convinced. She hadn’t known Freya all that long, so she didn’t want to turn down her friendly offer. Doing fun stuff together with her podmates (and hopefully other girls too) would help them become better buds. And that was exactly what Odin wanted for them all.

  “Yes!” Freya exclaimed, excitedly pumping one fist. “Be right back!” She jumped down from her hammocklike podbed, causing it to sway. Startled, her cats leaped out of it. They hit the floor, then padded around a moment before jumping back into the bed. They found a warm spot, then curled up to nap again.

  Meanwhile, Freya ran out into the dorm’s common area and returned with a stool, which she now set in the center of their podroom. “Sit!” she commanded Sif playfully, pointing at the stool. Smiling nervously, Sif sat.

  Freya fetched a large silver-backed hand mirror from the small closet beside her podbed and handed it to Sif. “Here. So you can watch your amazingly stupendous transformation.” She traded the mirror for the comb Sif was holding. The latter was made of reindeer antler, just like their pod’s coatrack. The comb’s carefully sawed-out teeth had been fastened with small bronze nails to a backbone etched with a delicate pattern of thin, dark cross-hatching.

  Sif watched in the mirror as the comb touched her shining golden hair. Gleefully, Freya separated various strands and began to weave them into many small braids. She asked lots of questions as she wove Sif’s hair, and Sif had a feeling this was to try to make her less nervous about all this hair stuff. It worked, too. The minutes flew by as the two girls giggled and chatted merrily about classes and teachers.

  Soon she found herself telling Freya about mjollnir, the runeword she’d created in Ms. Frigg’s class. “It’s related to the verbs ‘grind’ and ‘crush.’ What do you think it could mean prophecy-wise?” Sif asked.

  Freya shrugged. “Hard to say. What do you think?”

  Abandoning her usual caution, Sif said, “I was thinking it might foretell the future discovery of some new way of crushing enemy giants. Probably in a fighting situation. And that it might be related to someone—it could be anyone, really, like possibly Thor or—”

  “Wow! Interesting!” interrupted Freya, pausing in the midst of her braiding.

  Uh-oh, thought Sif. She hadn’t meant to tell anyone her guesses about the meaning of mjollnir. It was just that Freya was so easy to talk to, and the girl had a true gift for seeing the future, so her ideas on the runeword could prove helpful.

  In the mirror she could see Freya eyeing her curiously now. It made her squirm around on the stool a little. She hoped Freya hadn’t somehow guessed that Sif was a seer too. Though it was hard and not much fun keeping that ability a secret all the time, it seemed for the best. She didn’t want to harm anyone with her so-called talent ever again!

  Finally Freya spoke. “Prophecies can be tricky,” she said, beginning to braid again. “I mean, you could be right.” The mirror reflected her gentle smile. “Or it’s possible your interpretation could be wishful thinking.”

  Huh? Freya’s seeming doubt of Sif’s seeing abilities stung a little. But then, Sif had been careful not to let an
yone at AA know she had prophesying abilities, so why wouldn’t Freya doubt her?

  Besides, it wasn’t like her seeings were always correct. There had been the Horrible Thing involving her best friend, for example. She’d also seen other things that hadn’t come to pass—at least not in the exact way she’d expected. Like Ms. Frigg was fond of reminding everyone in Runes class, prophecy was an art, not a science.

  “We’d all like Asgard to be safer from giants,” Freya went on in a kind voice. In the mirror, Sif watched her begin to loop and pin the braids she’d woven into a dramatic style that approximated the figurehead mermaid’s hairdo.

  “True,” murmured Sif. She really was concerned for Asgard’s safety. But was Freya hinting that she had simply made up a prophecy she hoped would come true? No way!

  “You are going to love this new hairtsyle,” Freya enthused.

  Sif turned the mirror from side to side to see better what was happening. But instead of sharing Freya’s enthusiasm, she only grew alarmed at the sight of her hair. To her, the jumble of braids on her head just looked wrong. Cute for someone else. Way too fussy for her.

  “Also, I find it verrry interesting that you think your prophecy might involve Thor,” Freya went on as she unlooped some of the braids and then relooped them even more wildly.

  “So?” said Sif. In the mirror she saw that a twinkle had come into Freya’s pale-blue eyes.

  “So I’ve seen you two looking at each other.”

  “Nuh-uh. When?” Sif said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

  “Lots of times. On the way to class. Eating in the V,” Freya replied, referring to the Valhallateria, AA’s dining hall.

  Freya stepped from behind Sif and wagged a playful finger at her face. “I think maybe you’re crushing on each other. As in mjollnir?”

  “What? No!” Sif exclaimed, her cheeks growing warmer still. Freya had purposely emphasized the word “crushing” because she thought Sif’s runeword might mean the liking kind of ‘crush’! But that interpretation couldn’t be right! “Thor and I have never even talked to each other!” Sif protested.

  “Crushes often start with just looking,” Freya said with a knowing grin.

  Sif frowned. “No way are Thor and I crushing on each other. That isn’t what my runeword means,” she insisted. “Maybe you’ve just got love on the brain, since you’re the girlgoddess of love and beauty.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Freya laughed good-humoredly, and Sif watched her brush her fingers over her favorite necklace. Made from hammered gold in a fancy design, it was decorated with winking rubies and diamonds. At the necklace’s center dangled a large, teardrop-shaped jewel named Brising. Freya used this magical jewel to do her own future-tellings, which were usually correct. It was valuable and had been stolen twice recently, once by some dwarfs and another time by Loki. Which probably explained why Freya touched it now and then—to make sure it was still there.

  Desperate to change the crushing subject, and having been thinking about Freya’s necklace, Sif blurted, “I never told you before, but I knew Loki would steal Brising.”

  When Freya’s grin vanished immediately, Sif wished she could take back her words. But it was too late. Looking both angry and hurt, Freya stood over her with her hands on her hips. “You mean he told you he planned to steal it? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “No!” Sif hastened to say. She leaped from her stool to stand facing Freya. “I . . . um . . . saw him steal it in a dream,” she explained, shifting from foot to foot. Well, now she’d done it. The cat (and not one of the ones on Freya’s podbed) was out of the bag.

  Freya’s eyes widened. “Like a prophetic dream? Are you saying you’re a seer?”

  “No! Um, maybe. Well, sort of, I guess,” Sif admitted. She laid the hand mirror on top of the stool and began to pace back and forth. She could feel the new braids moving on her head. They felt weird, like ropes. So not her! “Only, I’m usually terrible at it,” she went on. “I can’t always tell the difference between a normal dream and a prophetic one, for one thing. That’s why I didn’t tell you about that dream. It could’ve been wrong and caused trouble.”

  She’d been pretty sure at the time that the dream about Freya’s necklace was a prophetic one, though—because it had been so vivid. Her most vivid dreams almost always came true! The real reason she’d said nothing was because of her vow to keep her talent a secret after that disaster with her second-grade best friend.

  Freya let out a huff. “You still should have told me.”

  Sif nodded. “I’m really sorry. At least you did get Brising back.”

  “Yeah,” said Freya, starting to calm down. Suddenly she gasped, staring in the direction of their door.

  Idun had arrived. She was all sweaty, her long brown hair was a wild mess, and the hem of her linen underdress was caked with dirt. “What happened to you?” the two girls asked at the same time.

  “It was awful!” Idun said breathlessly as Sif snatched the hand mirror from the stool so the distressed girl could sit. “I’d just finished picking a boxful of apples for the Valhallateria. And I was on my way to drop them off at the V kitchen when, you’ll never guess—an eagle zoomed down and swiped one of them!”

  Idun, the girlgoddess of youth, was responsible for picking the deliciously sweet golden apples that kept all the goddesses and gods healthy and youthful. Her special apples grew year-round, even in winter snow, in one particular grove in Asgard. Though students often ate them whole, the V kitchen staff also made the apples into applesauce, apple juice, and baked goods such as apple cake and apple turnovers.

  “So naturally, I ran after the eagle,” Idun went on. “But then I tripped over a rock and fell into a big mud puddle, spilling my whole basket.”

  “Oh, poor you,” Freya said sympathetically.

  Idun nodded and shifted her weight on the stool. “Then while I was gathering up the spilled apples, the eagle landed on a tree branch above me.” She hesitated before adding, “I swear it grinned at me the whole time it was eating that stolen apple. Like it was laughing at me and daring me to do anything about it. I wasn’t about to get near that sharp beak, though!”

  Freya and Sif exchanged looks. “Loki!” they said at the same time.

  “In disguise,” added Sif. Loki was a shape-shifter, after all. And stealing one of Idun’s precious apples was the kind of annoying thing he would do, even though he could eat them anytime he wanted in the Valhallateria.

  Idun drew in a sharp breath, guessing their meaning. “That eagle?”

  Freya nodded. “It would be just like him to do it. He always does whatever he wants. And he never worries about anyone else’s feelings.”

  “Exactly! Today he messed up my tiles in Runes class,” said Sif. “And he teased Thor.”

  Sif looked up to see Freya staring at her with that knowing look again. Because she’d mentioned Thor? Talk about a one-track mind!

  But it had been super mean of Loki to pick on shy, sweet Idun. She was kind to everyone and never said a bad word about him or anyone else. She was the last person anyone should want to hurt. The more Sif thought about it, the madder she got.

  Abruptly changing the subject, Idun said to Sif politely, “I like your hair.”

  “Thanks,” said Sif. She had a feeling that Idun didn’t think it suited her at all and was only being her usual nice self.

  Then, without warning, Idun’s face crumpled. She reached down, pulling up the hem of her underdress to reveal a scrape that was still bleeding a little. “I skinned my knee when I fell.”

  “Ooh! That looks like it hurts,” sympathized Sif.

  “C’mon. I’ll help you wash and bandage it,” Freya said quickly. Nodding, Idun headed for the washroom across the hall. Freya started to follow, then paused in the doorway. “Hey, Sif,” she murmured gently. “Know what I think? I think maybe Loki likes you, has a feeling you like Thor, and made fun of Thor because he’s jealous.”

  Sif made a goofy face at her. “En
ough with all the liking, Ms. Girlgoddess of Love. And anyway, if Loki liked me, why would he mess up my tiles?”

  “To get your attention? Who knows why boys do what they do?” said Freya. She started to leave again, then added, “Hey, let’s all four of us sit together at dinner when Skade gets back, okay?”

  “Sure!” Sif smiled, pleased at the invitation, since the podmates didn’t always eat together. Odin’s list of school rules, which he’d passed out last week, included not sitting with the exact same group for more than one meal a day. All part of his plan to promote increased mingling among students to help different worlds get along better. However, the Thunder Girls hadn’t eaten together since the previous night.

  After Freya and Idun were gone, Sif decided to go find Loki and give him a big fat piece of her mind. It was a mean trick he’d played on poor Idun, shape-shifting into an eagle and stealing one of her special apples. But first Sif undid her looped braids and combed out her long golden hair. After gathering it into a loose ponytail, she knotted it at the back of her head. Ah, that was better! More her. She grabbed her wool cloak from the back of the door, then quickly left Vingolf.

  3

  Boygods

  AS SOON AS SIF WAS outside the girls’ dorm, she tried to think where to start her search for Loki. Though it had stopped snowing, a fierce wind was blowing. Having forgotten to take her mittens and not wanting to go to all the trouble of removing her boots again in order to get them, Sif blew on her hands to warm them as she stood awhile, thinking.

  That mischievous boygod could be almost anywhere. After he’d finished his stolen apple, he might have gone to Breidablik Hall, the dorm where the boys lived. Or he might have kept his eagle form and flown off in search of someone else to annoy. Making up her mind, she started toward Breidablik.