Chapter Text
It was a fine well balanced dagger thin and sharp with a bronze and alabaster hilt, and beautiful too with the intricate knotwork and twin rubies on the guard. The thick ebony candelabra was dressed with mother of pearl but was scorched in the fire Sif lit to distract the invader. The candelabra proved more useful than the dagger in keeping the six foot jotunn at the right end of it and away from her. Don’t let them touch you, my love, lest your flesh turn to ice and crumble in front of your very eyes.
A hint of a glint played on Heimdall’s golden eyes. He well remembered giving that warning to his small sister in his gravest storyteller’s voice while the blaze of the hearth reflected on her widened eyes and the winter’s storm howled vainly outside.
The smoke stung Sif’s eyes but the frost giant did not dare approach the flaming curtains. Even so Sif was backing down until in a flash of insight she realised he was herding her to the corner blocking her every exit. There was one candle left on the candelabra which miraculously had not gone out. Sif set fire to the bed. The bear throw caught first and she threw it behind the jotunn. The stink of burned hairs seared Sif’s nostrils; still, a pearl embroidered cushion all ablaze flew to his left.
He was getting visibly agitated opening his arms and roaring at her. His torso was exposed and Sif turned her dagger in her fingers blade first. She felt its deadly sharpness on her fingertips and positioned her legs just so.
A scream came from the antechamber filled with more outrage than fear. With the first sound of pottery breaking Sif had pulled the dagger off the wall it had been mounted on and Freyja had gone out to the terrace and then if she were smart on to the antechamber where she could have waited for Sif’s diversion to work and then flee. It should have worked. Unless there were more than one intruder.
The frost giant grinned maliciously and Sif threw the knife. He fell, the shining metal hilt protruding from his ice blue throat.
The smoke was coming out the bedroom in a thick cloud. The antechamber was empty.
“Guards!” Sif shouted. She repeated it for good measure and to her disconcert her voice sounded high and shrill.
Looking down from the terrace she saw another frost giant carrying a bundle of the deep blue colour Freyja had worn just after midday and was running for the city walls. She jumped to land softly on the west gardens shrubbery and followed on foot.
“You should have taken the dagger,” Heimdall said. Sif had thought the exact same thing.
She spotted a city guard in his cow horned helmet slouching on a lamppost and changed her course.
“Watch where you’re going, girl!” he yelled when she grabbed him.
“Quick! Call the alarm! Frost giants have stolen the Lady Freyja!”
“I don’t have time for frolicking with idle young lasses. Go away.”
The jotunn moved fast and she couldn’t see them anymore. “Fine!” she said and clenching her jaw grabbed his sword and ran. Something good ought to come from the delay.
She had always been a fast runner, faster than anyone she had ever raced against and the jotunn was heavy and carried a load. She dodged tree boughs and jumped over streams and boulders because he was smart and crossed through the park running parallel to the main street but away from the crowds. She ran fast but still she was out of breath when she caught up with him.
A glance and a roar told Sif he had spotted her. I am going to regret this, she thought, but he had found a new spurt of strength and she might lose him. She tripped him and both giant and Freyja landed with a thump.
“Freyja?” Sif called, worried.
A groan still seething outrage, and a worded reply. “I’m fine. Get him.”
The relief was short-lasting because the jotunn rose to his feet and already a ring of sleet spread out from him covering the bed of fallen leaves and grew and grew and soon enough reached Sif and the bruising cold gripped her feet.
The first ice shard hit her left temple. When the melting water trickled down to her mouth it tasted of iron. She slashed at the ice locking her feet in place. She broke free and slid behind the nearest tree. The salt of her sweat already stung the many tiny cuts on her cheeks and brow and the arm which she had put up to shield her eyes was slippery with pink water.
“A sword lacks the right balance for throwing.”
Indeed, which is why she had never practised it before but Sif had to try and she made the mental note to have a proper sword made for throwing in the future that was to come most definitely and absolutely. Around her the bladed hailstorm would not cease.
“Frost giants!” Freyja shouted. “Guards, protect the city. Guards!”
The shower of ice ceased.
“Freyja, run!” Sif cried. The frost giant slowly advanced on Freyja who would not run. He did it on purpose of course, making a point with their difference of size—he was twice her height—emphasizing the incredulity of her resistance, mocking. Freyja clutched her necklace but stood her ground.
“How dare you,” she was saying. “How dare you.”
Sif didn’t have much choice in the matter.
“Oh no.”
She charged.
She managed one almost successful swipe and sliced open his forearm while she aimed for his navel. He screamed his pain swinging his arm out and Sif took the blow to the chest. Breathing was impossible. She fell on her back and the blue of the sky descended ever so slowly to envelop her head to toe until there was only darkness.
Heimdall sitting by her bedside shook his head. Sif, her head supported in an ocean of swansdown pillows, laughed but the pain from her broken ribs turned it into a wheeze.
“It was special necklace,” he said tactfully.
“I was completely unaware!” So special a necklace that could have struck a jotunn or a hundred of them dead should have been renowned and not have been treated as a bauble by her mistress.
“Its original function was actually—.”
She broke down. “Oh the Norns save me! The necklace was lost because of me and the thief escaped unscathed. She—she could have burned him to ash!”
“You prevented the theft of its owner. It is a fact that will work in your favour.” He smiled and his golden eyes glinted. “I see it.”
“The loss of Freyja’s magic pendant and the frosty bastard who took it are only more numbers in my growing list of faults to redeem,” she grumbled.
“In the meantime she is content with her mercenary bodyguards and you have been dismissed.”
“How is that a good thing exactly, brother?”
His eyes again glinted.