Skadi's Confession

"I don't see what's so difficult about it," grumbled Niord of Noatun, "I am the king of the Swedes and also god of the Sea. A king is usually the god in charge of something or other -- fertility is a popular choice, as you might expect -- and most gods are king of somewhere or other. My father Ingvi was king of the Turks, for example, and my son Frey is king in Uppsala when he isn't on duty as god of the Earth. Clear?"

Ari of Iceland nodded, hacking furiously at his bundle of sticks. Even with a really sharp knife and the right kind of wood, taking notes in runes was hard work. He picked up a fresh stick, and prepared to continue the interview. "So who is your consort -- er, queen? -- um, goddess?"

"Consort er queen um goddess? If you mean the wife, her indoors, she's Skadi. S-k-a-d-i. Skadi. And if you're going to make a genealogy out of this, she is also my sister." Niord chuckled. "Incest has never been much of a taboo for us gods; in fact it's generally thought to improve the divinity quotient. Hey, here's a bit for your annals, might spice them up a bit. You want to know how I came to marry my own sister? She chose me out of a line-up."

"Really?"

"Yes. See, my father -- Ingvi, case you've forgotten already -- didn't know who to marry her to, and she had no strong inclinations one way or another, so they lined up a bunch of likely gods and kings and heroes behind a sheet, with only their feet sticking out. Skadi was supposed to chose her future husband by seeing which feet most appealed to her. So she walked along the line eyeing up what the fates -- or feet, eh? -- had in store for her. Well, she rejected a couple of dwarf kings (very hairy feet, most dwarves have; in fact they're hairy all over), a troll (huge great shapeless feet, with no proper toes), and one of those weird god-things that capers about on cloven hooves. Then she stopped and went mm-hmm when she got to my feet. At least they were clean, on account of me being a sea god, and more or less human . . ."

"Excuse me, but why were you among the suitors?"

"Eh? It was that mischievous little beggar Loki. He got me drunk, and then shoved me into the line-up for a giggle. And I just stood there like a fool with my feet poking out."

"I see. So your sister picked you out, not knowing that . . ."

"No, it wasn't quite that simple, Ari Thorgilsson. You better sling that bit of wood on the fire, and start a new paragraph or whatever. Loki couldn't leave well alone, he had to go and get a long piece of cord and tie one end to the tail of a goat that was wandering about the place stealing scraps. Then he made a noose on the other end..."

Niord paused to accept a fresh horn of beer from his wife, took a pull at it, burped his appreciation, and said:

"Drop o' good stuff, is that. I was just telling the skald here how we got engaged, like."

Skadi smiled fondly.

"So where was I? Oh yes. Loki. So he tied a noose on the end of this cord and slipped it on to my wedding tackle. Hey, don't put that down! Let the record show that he tied the cord round my waist or hand or something."

"Of course," said Ari, lying with the practiced ease of the freelance journalist.

"Strictly off the record, this is. Of course I could feel somebody fumbling about in my breeches, but I thought it was just Skadi checking out her choice, feet not being an infallible guide to what's at the other end of your legs. Before we could get that sorted out, Loki let the goat loose and next thing you know there's a panic-stricken goat racing round Valhalla, and me sprinting behind it howling like a banshee, trying to catch up before my dick was stretched to breaking point. And of course the entire bloody pantheon of gods are falling about, pointing at me and laughing themselves sick -- kings rolling about on the floor, dwarves slapping their hairy little thighs, trolls booming Ho ho ho and even those weird things with hooves whinnying and snickering. Except for Ingvi, of course -- he was absolutely furious." (Ingvi was most wroth, Ari scratched, being a poet)

"Well anyway, Skadi here came to the rescue and caught the goat before the goods were damaged beyond repair. And Ingvi went all dignified and kingly and decreed that since Skadi had caught me the fates had evidently decided that she was to marry me."

"And here we are." said Skadi. "And that, by the way, is why if you go into any temple you'll find the statue of Niord has an enormous dick."

"A bit exaggerated, perhaps," Niord said smugly, "but yes, it all worked out fine in the end. Mind you, if I ever get my hands on Loki, I'll stretch his dick for him, then I'll wring it his miserable neck . . ."

"Don't be too hard on him, love" Skadi confessed, "It was me that put him up to it. Not the goat thing, but getting you on to the menu."