Whetstone groaned but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure where he was, and once people knew he was awake, things he wasn’t prepared for might start happening. He stretched out his fingers and felt the ground beneath him. Grass and leaves: he was outside.
Whetstone peeled one eye open. The sky over him was darkening – how long had he been asleep? Twisting his head to the side, he found himself gazing at a pair of thick, hairy ankles.
‘UP YOU GET!’ Awfulrick shouted cheerfully, hoisting Whetstone to his feet by the neck of his tunic. ‘YOU’RE THE LAST ONE TO WAKE UP. OI, ORESMITER! YOU WERE WRONG – HE’S NOT DEAD!’
Whetstone rubbed his eyes. ‘What happened?’ The events of the last day were starting to catch up with him: a disturbing swirl of dragons, gigantic trees, flying horses and bad poetry.
Awfulrick shrugged. ‘WHO KNOWS THE WAY OF THE GODS? EXCEPT YOU, OF COURSE!’ He slapped Whetstone so hard on the back it made the boy stumble forward.
Whetstone shuddered as a memory surfaced. ‘I didn’t really stick my arm inside a DRAGON’S MOUTH, did I?’
Awfulrick laughed and wandered off towards some other large, hairy men. Whetstone spotted Oresmiter wiping a mountain of bird poo off his helmet. He smiled to himself, remembering the ravens.
Seeing the cup lying innocently in the long grass, Whetstone scooped it up, intending to hand it back to Awfulrick. It seemed impossible that he had stolen it only yesterday, thinking it would bring him Fame and Fortune. Whetstone ran his thumb over the ornate metalwork and smiled. It had brought him something better: a clue to help him find his parents. Oh, and a crazy quest against Loki for the enchanted harp strings.
‘Did that all really happen?’
The cup gazed up at him with its ruby eyes, then it opened its mouth and began to speak:
There once was a young lad from Drott,
Who everyone thought was a clot.
He got rid of a dragon,
Will he fall off the wagon,
And go back to thieving or not?
‘No, definitely not. Good to see you’re back to normal, anyway.’
The cup blew a loud raspberry.
‘Come on, everyone – back to Krud! We have a victory feast to eat!’ called Oresmiter, who had given up trying to chip off the bird poo.
‘Songs to sing?’ added Ivor the Nose Grinder, waving his bogey-encrusted helmet in the air. Oresmiter nodded.
‘And … poetry to recite?’ asked Whetstone, handing the cup back to Awfulrick.
A few days later, Whetstone was sitting by himself in the Great Hall of Krud. Most of the villagers were clustered up at the far end of the hall listening to Awfulrick’s cup recite more rude poetry.
There once was a lad named Whetstone,
Who everyone thought was a moan.
He started off zero,
But turned out a Hero,
But I still wouldn’t give him a loan!
‘Well, I guess that’s almost as good as singing songs about me,’ Whetstone muttered.
A few of the other Vikings gave him sidelong looks and whispered to each other. Stories of his adventures had been spreading. Awfulrick had invited him to stay in the village, and it seemed as good a place as any while he tried to figure out the riddle.
One you will find below, in an ice-locked land,
Still living but alone, for Hel holds him in her hand …
An old woman slopped a bowl of something indescribable down in front of him, cutting into his thoughts. He glanced at it, felt his stomach roll and pushed it away.
Whetstone got to his feet and headed out of the door into the bright sunshine. He felt in his pocket for the guidebook Lotta had given him:
Helheim: Home of the Queen of the Dead, Hel. Yes, she named the place after herself. Tells you everything you need to know, really.
Except it didn’t. Whetstone didn’t know how to get there or what to expect from the Queen of the Dead. But Odin had set him the task of stopping Loki, and if that meant he had to travel to Helheim, he knew he had to try. Just because he didn’t have big muscles and cheese for brains, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be a Hero.
Tipping his head backwards, Whetstone enjoyed the feeling of sun on his face as something flashed past, making him flinch in surprise. An arrow thudded into the grass by his feet. It was heavy and black, and it was on fire.
Tied to the arrow was a piece of paper. Taking care not to burn his fingers, Whetstone untied the smoking parchment and flattened it out carefully. It was a letter from Lotta. Whetstone was glad Lotta had made it back to Asgard, although it felt odd not to have her stomping around any more.
With a grin, Whetstone began to read …
Whetstone the Bold
Care of Chief Awfulrick
Village of Krud
Near Some Heather, and Some Rocks
Dear Whetstone,
I hope you are well. We are all OK, up here in Asgard. I don’t know how much Odin (Allfather, Chief of the Gods, the One-Eyed One, Spear Shaker) is letting you remember, so I wanted to write to you to let you know what happened. I hope this letter reaches you — I’m not sure how well it will survive the trip.
Anyway, Odin sent all the Vikings to sleep, and I got a lift home on Sleipnir. I think Odin knows more about what Loki is up to than he is letting on, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. He just keeps making pointed comments about how he hopes ‘someone’ can find the harp strings and return them before Loki comes back, and that ‘someone’ should probably think carefully about the clues in the riddle.
Freyja (Goddess of Love) asked me what had happened to Loki, so I told her about him getting eaten by Nidhogg. After she finished laughing, she said he probably transformed himself into a rock or something so the dragon couldn’t digest him. Freyja’s never quite forgiven Loki for the time he tried to swap her for a barrel of enchanted mead.
Although being pooed out of a dragon sounds pretty disgusting, Loki’s been through a lot worse, and somehow he always manages to come back. It also means that Loki will be able to find what’s left of the harp in Niflheim. He’ll still be after you to help him get the strings though.
Freyja also reckons Vali has been turned into a troll not a boulder, so he’ll turn back into his normal (horrible) self and be able to move every time the sun goes down. You might want to sleep with one eye open. Freyja said his mum is going to go nuts when she finds out what happened.
Everyone was really impressed when they found out that we climbed down Yggdrasil. Scold gave me a higher mark for my Animal Transformation exam, She said that even Akrid struggled to do it under pressure when she was a Class One. Flee and Flay are still out to get me, so nothing new there. They tried to put frogs in my boots yesterday, but Glinting-Fire caught them. They’ll be cleaning armour for weeks!
I’ve got to get back to my Valkyrie training now. Scold said something about a big poetry contest in Valhalla coming up. Maybe I should ask Awfulrick if I can borrow his cup!
I’ll try to keep in touch, although we’re not supposed to meddle with humans (!)
Valhalla Forever!
Lotta
Trainee Valkyrie (still Class Three)
P.S. Broken Tooth misses you. I don’t know why.