by Joan Holub
“You and me? Go to school in Asgard?” she asked, shaking her head. If it was an invitation, they didn’t have to go, right? No matter what Brising and the acorn message had predicted.
“Or maybe somewhere near Asgard. Hard to understand raven caws sometimes. Guess we’ll find out when we get there.” Her brother, who was the boygod of growing things, bent to tend to some star-shaped white wildflowers they’d crushed when they bumped into each other. Pring! The stems and petals magically straightened, standing strong and healthy again under his charmed touch.
A sinking feeling filled Freya. For once it seemed that Ratatosk and his acorn might have gotten their gossip correct. But the worst news was that Frey wanted to go!
She shook her head, sending her pale-blond hair swaying with sparkly glitter. “We can’t go. I’m going to be class president, remember? And the Vana Bananas ice-skating team captain! And there’s my jewelry club too,” she protested.
“Teams and clubs?” Frey huffed, throwing his arms wide. “Is that all you can think about? Going to Asgard will be the coolest thing that’s ever happened to us! We’ll be fine. Like seeds, we’ll bloom where we’re planted. Knowing you, you’ll make a hundred friends and be in ten clubs by the end of our first week there, probably.”
“But . . . ,” she sputtered. “I’m not a seed, and I don’t want to move away. It’s not fair!”
School was starting tomorrow and she had so many plans. Super-popular at Vanaheim Junior High, she had been voted student body president at the end of last year. Not only that, but she had also recently designed the cutest yellow skating outfits for the Vana Bananas and added small yellow pom-poms to the team’s white skates. She couldn’t wait to hit the ice this year! But how could she carry out those plans if she wasn’t here?
“Hello?” Frey said, pulling her attention from her worried daydreaming. Having finished helping the plants, he stood up and dusted the dirt and snow off his hands. “We have to go. Odin is the boss,” he insisted in a stubborn tone.
“Can’t we say no? I thought it was an invitation, not a command,” Freya replied just as stubbornly. “The Aesir are our enemies!” (Aesir was what the goddesses and gods of Asgard were called.)
“Were our enemies. There’s a truce now, remember?”
“But . . .” Hearing soft footsteps behind her, Freya turned to see a family of three reindeer crossing the path close by.
When she turned back, Frey was frowning. He lifted a blue anemone flower that was hanging its petals like it was super tired. “See this?” he said. “Arguing isn’t good for plants. It hurts the dirt, which makes them droopy.”
“Huh? Hurts the dirt?” Freya repeated. She giggled. Frey was always saying weird stuff like that. Sometimes by accident and sometimes on purpose. She guessed it was because he was so into growing things and constantly had plants—and the environment, too—on his brain.
Plants changed with the seasons. Like them, her brother was all about change. She was just the opposite, wanting stability despite what that dumb heart vision had said about her needing a change. She didn’t!
“Why can’t things just stay the same?” she murmured in an unhappy voice.
Frey ignored her complaint, bending to brush the snow off a bed of wild winterpeas. “I think this new school might be Odin’s way of trying to fix the bad feelings between Vanaheim and Asgard,” he went on eagerly. “If he can bring kids from all nine worlds closer together, maybe everyone everywhere will see that we can learn to get along. You and I should help with that! Come on, give peas a chance.” Flashing her a grin, he turned to head down the path toward home.
“Peas?” Freya giggled, following him. His grin made it clear that the plant-related pun was no accident. But was he right? If making peas, er, peace between Asgard and Vanaheim was Odin’s plan, they should help! Besides, that “invitation” of his was probably more like an order not to be disobeyed.
Luckily, it was her nature to look for an upside to any bad situation. Like, now she thought that if they went to Asgard, maybe someone there could tell her what had happened to Gullveig. Or explain that weird heart-shaped vision. And yet another upside occurred to her. “Well, if we really, truly do have to go, at least we can have a going-away party,” she called to Frey. (Never mind that they’d just had a party to celebrate their birthday!) Her enthusiasm rose a bit as she began planning the new party in her mind. Celebrations and gatherings always raised her spirits.
“I know!” she said with excitement. “We could have it in the town square. We’ll do folk dances like the parhalling. And for party favors I’ll make—”
“Not gonna happen. We leave tomorrow,” Frey informed her over his shoulder.
“Tomorrow?” Stunned by this news, Freya stopped dead in her tracks. Then she rushed ahead and turned to begin walking backward in front of him. “How can we possibly say good-bye to everyone and pack up our stuff in less than a day?”
He shrugged and moved around her. “I’m already packed. Took me five minutes. Odin said we’re only allowed to bring one bag.”
“One bag?” Freya echoed in shock.
“You should be happy, Freya. Odin chose us. It’s an honor!”
“That’s another thing. Why us?” she asked. “Don’t you wonder?”
“I’m sure he had a good reason. I guess he’ll tell us what it is when we get to Asgard.”
Frey is too trusting, thought Freya as she turned to walk beside him. Forget any upside—she needed to talk him out of this! Because what if they found out when they got to Asgard that Odin’s “invitation” was some kind of trick? That they had walked right into danger? It might be too late to return home. They’d be prisoners in enemy territory!
4
The Secret Plan
THE NEXT MORNING FREYA WOKE up hoping that yesterday had all been a dream (or more like a nightmare, actually). But when she looked over and saw the backpack she’d filled with her stuff last night on the end of her bed, she instantly knew better. She and Frey really did have to leave home!
Then she perked up, remembering her secret plan. The one she’d brainstormed as she drifted off to sleep last night. “Mm-hmm,” she murmured, nodding to herself. “Yeah, I’ll go on this trip, Frey, but only to keep you out of trouble. Because you are too trusting, mister.” So she’d go, all right, but as often as possible she would casually mention reasons they should turn back. Like that they’d be safer at home. But in Asgard? Who knew?
On the teeny-tiny chance her secret plan failed and she wound up stuck in Asgard, though, Freya had packed her belongings carefully. Odin’s rule was one bag only. But he hadn’t said how big that bag could be. Hers was ginormous! It was made of white felt and had the cutest cat faces stitched in colorful yarn all over it. She’d stuffed it with as many of her favorite outfits and keepsakes as would fit. Now it was so full, it looked like a lumpy snowman!
Pushing herself up to sit, she looked around. This house of hers and Frey’s was small, like most in the village. Ever since Gullveig had left, kind neighbors had given them help when they needed it. She was going to miss them all, and her friends, too. With a sigh she flung back the covers and swung her feet to the floor.
“Eek!” The stone floor was cold as she scurried across it. She grabbed a pair of wool socks and tugged them on. After brushing the thick fall of her hair, she wove it into a single gleaming braid, leaving a few strands loose on either side. These she wove in a fancy crisscross pattern around the top of the braid at the back of her neck.
Freya glanced over at her jewel, which lay on a nearby shelf among her many necklaces. Since she wasn’t holding it, it was clear now, like a diamond. “Looks like we’re going on that adventure you predicted, Brising. So what should I wear?”
Brising replied in its familiar hum:
“I see you wearing black and white,
Along with something red and bright.”
She considered and discarded many outfits before finally deciding on her best white
linen dress. Over it she wore a shorter sleeveless red wool dress called a hangerock with shoulder straps that were fastened in front by tortoiseshell clasps. Her nine necklaces hung in a big, swoopy smile shape across her chest from one shoulder strap to the other.
Turning in a circle, she let her full skirt flounce. The stitched red-and-black flower border along its hem was a cheerful sight. She smiled, pleased.
“Thanks for the help, Brising. Frey thinks that choosing the perfect outfit to wear is a waste of time. But first impressions matter. The Aesir will expect the girlgoddess of love and beauty to be fashion forward.” She wanted to look her best when meeting new people on this trip—even if some were enemies. Which anyone who lived in Asgard definitely was!
“In you go!” she trilled as she slipped Brising into its white pouch. In contact with her fingers, it briefly turned yellow green, indicating that her mood was expectant, yet uneasy or troubled. Sounded about right.
As she retied the pouch’s drawstring to the gold chain necklace she wore, she heard footsteps outside. And singing? She pushed the curtain back and looked out her window. A big smile lit up her face at what she saw. Hundreds of Frey’s and her friends had gathered to wish them good-bye! Word of their trip had certainly spread quickly. Thanks to Ratatosk, no doubt.
After pulling on a pair of trendy red-and-white-plaid snow boots, Freya took a last long look around, wishing she didn’t have to leave so much behind. Her gaze fell on her closet, where six hangerocks still hung. There hadn’t been room for them in her backpack.
“Hmm. That teal-and-gray one is just too amazing to leave behind.” She dashed over, grabbed it, and, with much shoving, managed to get it into her pack with her other belongings. Success! She hated to leave the rest. But stuff could be replaced, she reminded herself. The hardest thing would be leaving this village behind. The people in it were as precious to her as gold.
Although it was tricky (not to mention heavy!), Freya somehow managed to sling her stuffed pack onto her back and carry it outside. A light snow was falling. In her wool socks and clothes, she hardly noticed the cold.
Frey was waiting for her, looking a lot more delighted than she was to be heading out on a new adventure. “Ready?” he asked her. She nodded, though she actually felt far from ready.
Everyone they knew had come to see them off and walked with them toward the edge of the village. Two other Vanir had been invited to attend Odin’s new school—boygods named Njord and Kvasir. She and Frey had known them forever.
The yellow-haired Njord’s backpack looked even lumpier and heavier than hers. “Did you pack your entire seashell collection?” brown-haired Kvasir teased him. Njord loved the seashore, and every time he visited a beach, he came back with new shells.
“Yup,” Njord replied. There wasn’t room for food in their packs, but Kvasir had brought four gourds of berry juice for their trip, and he passed three of them out.
On Odin’s orders, no one was allowed to accompany the departing foursome beyond the village. So when they reached the edge of town, where Freya and her three companions had to part ways with young and old friends, there were lots of hugs and good-byes.
Bye, Vana Bananas! So long, friends! Farewell, jewelry club! Vanaheim had gentle winds in summer and pretty snow in winter. What would it be like in Asgard, the land of our enemies? wondered Freya.
Dragging her feet, she glanced back at her family’s small, cute house. It was dug partly into the ground and had bright flowers and grass growing on its roof, like most homes in the village. Would she ever see it again? Or see her many, many friends? She waved until they were specks in the distance behind her. As she walked away from all that was familiar, her hand reached to clasp the pouch that held her jewel. A few tears slid down her cheeks, but she brushed them off.
“On to Asgard!” shouted Frey, punching a fist in the air. The other two boygods did the same. Freya rolled her eyes. Maybe Frey, Njord, and Kvasir could forgive the Aesir for the war, but she never would.
She frowned at the rainbow winking in the morning sunlight in the far-off distance ahead of them. Even though no one in her village had ever seen it up close, everyone knew it was actually an amazing, humongous rainbow-colored bridge! Once they reached it, it would lead them to Asgard’s doors.
She would do her best to convince these boys to turn back before then. Sooner or later, Brising would help her discover Gullveig’s whereabouts without having to leave home forever, she told herself. And as for the heart vision . . . well . . . someone else who had far greater magical talents than she did could go help Yggdrasil if need be, right?
Freya and the three boygods walked onward, chatting together, but they weren’t alone for long. With each new path they crossed, students from other worlds joined their ranks. Kids their same age that Odin had also invited to Asgard Academy.
Frey nudged her. “Look! Light-elves.” He pointed his chin toward some kids with sparkly lights woven into their hair. Everyone smiled at the sight of them—they were so happy, you just couldn’t help it! They danced practically everywhere instead of walking, often joining hands in a circle, then ducking under one another’s arms until they were hopelessly woven into a knot. Then they would break apart and laugh and laugh.
As the hours passed, even more students streamed in from intersecting paths, all heading for the new school. Freya had never been outside her village before and had never seen the inhabitants of any other worlds, except in art carvings at the town museum. She took note of the fascinating fashions of each group they encountered.
The dwarfs from Darkalfheim all wore colorful caps, leather-and-gold bracelets, and pointed boots. Though they had to be about her age, they were a foot or so shorter than her and her friends.
There were humans, too, from Midgard, the middlemost of all the worlds. Their peasant costumes of woven sheep’s wool were mostly vegetable-dyed in dark shades of mustard, orange, and green, but had cool special touches of colorful embroidery here and there.
“Ymir’s eyebrows!” Kvasir exclaimed suddenly.
Frey and Njord whirled around, and Freya, too. “What? What’s wrong?” she asked Kvasir anxiously.
But he only calmly nodded toward the humans. “Nothing. I just remembered that their world was built from Ymir’s eyebrows, that’s all. Makes them easy to recognize, since they all have bushy eyebrows like his.”
Kvasir was a bit of a know-it-all, but he was right most of the time, like now. Ymir had been a real frost giant who’d lived in ancient times before there were any worlds at all. All nine worlds had been built upon him. Literally. Sky, clouds, mountains—everything had sprouted from him. From his hair, from his fingers, from you name it. Unfortunately, all the other frost giants who lived in the Jotunheim world nowadays were still kind of mad about that.
“I like their clothes,” Freya said, taking a sip of juice as she studied the humans. Despite her worries about leaving Vanaheim, the idea of meeting all kinds of different students and learning about their worlds—plus getting some fashion inspiration from their clothes—was beginning to intrigue her. Not that she’d changed her mind and abandoned her go-back-home plan, mind you!
“Look! One of Yggdrasil’s roots!” someone announced suddenly. At the astonishing sight of the great root, gasps of excitement and awe rippled over the crowd of students like wind over a field of wheat. The root looked as thick around as the dragon Nidhogg’s tail was said to be! Freya had heard that there were only two other such World Tree roots elsewhere in the worlds.
She ran a few steps to stand on a rock so she could get a better view of the root. Clomp! Clomp! Clomp!
“What’s that noise?” asked Kvasir.
Frey and Njord pointed at Freya.
“Huh?” she asked in surprise. “Me? What are you talking about?”
“Your boots,” said Njord.
Freya looked down at them. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. They are kind of loud. Especially when I run.” Hey, maybe this was a chance to put her secret plan
into action. “Want me to go back to our village? I left another quieter pair of boots there I could change into. You should probably come with me, Frey, in case I get lost.”
“Nah, the clomping’s not too loud when you’re only walking,” said Frey. “C’mon.”
“Rats!” said Freya under her breath. She’d just have to keep her eyes and ears open for another opportunity to get him to turn back.
5
Three Rings
HOURS LATER ALL THE STUDENTS passed through a huge broken stone wall. “What a mess!” Frey murmured, gazing around at the rubble. Although it was now a jumble of half-built sections and crumbling stone, they knew this wall had once stood tall and strong, surrounding all of Asgard. It had been destroyed just before the war ended.
Uh-oh! thought Freya. She had to wonder what kind of reception she and the other three Vanir would get from the Aesir students with this crushed wall a constant reminder of the fighting. There wasn’t much time left to convince Frey to go back home. She hadn’t anticipated reaching the outskirts of Asgard so quickly.
Seeing an opening, she said to him, “Yeah, this wall used to stop giants from storming Asgard. Looks like our Vanir heroes did a lot of damage to it during the war. Now that it’s broken, what’s to stop the giants from attacking? Everything’s going to be more dangerous for anyone living in Asgard.”
“Mostly for us, since the Aesir probably still think of us as enemies,” added Kvasir.
“Exactly,” said Freya, pleased at his support. She’d noticed that the groups of kids from different worlds hadn’t spoken to one another as they walked here. Instead groups had bunched together with their own kind, whispering and eyeing other groups with distrust. Even now many were glancing at her and her three boygod companions accusingly, as if thinking about the war and Vanaheim’s part in it.
“If Odin thought everyone would become instant friends once he threw us together, he has another think coming,” Njord noted.
