I’d only been myself for a few hours, after all. I hadn’t even eaten in that brief time made available to me.

Abruptly, I laugh, softly, for no one but myself, and roll onto my stomach, burying my face in my arms, my dirty shoulders shaking. There was no purpose to it beyond the simple pleasure of being able to do so simple a thing once more. Eventually, my laughter stopped, and I simply lay in the grass, grinning into my arms, and I mentally ran over what I would do first.

A bath? I considered this, rolling the mental image of the steaming water about in my mind, burning dirt off my skin, cleansing me in liquid fire, and decided it was the only thing I could do before anything else. After that would come warm clothes, dry and clean, soft against my skin, followed by food and drink. And drink, oh, the drink. How I longed for the taste of wine and mead on my tongue once more, maybe even going so far as to let a slight haze cloud my mind. Once all that was taken care of then . . . then . . . I would seduce and bed one fo the glorious goddesses of Asgard! The halls would reverberate with the sound of her voice, screaming my name as I went down upon her . . .

I sighed in happy anticipation of this event and reached down to ease my abruptly hard member. I swore softly and lost myself in the task until I felt something warm and damp trickle from my hair down onto my face. Irritated, I flung my free hand out and shoved something soft and annoyingly warm-wet away from my hair before rolling once more, wiping my other hand on the grass in an attempt to dry it. I glared at the one who had interrupted me in a task I had been so long denied.

“You,” I said, my teeth clenched, “are an idiotic nuisance. I should have you slaughtered and roast you over my own fire before feeding you to the wolves.”

The colt listened to me, ears cocked forward curiously, then whickered softly and licked my face. He started at my chin and moved up over my nose, not halting until he encountered my hair. The colts saliva coated my bangs, pressing them up away from my eyes and sticking them down at odd angles, while stray strands stood up in different directions.

I grimaced and wiped my wrist over my face. “You are a disgusting beast,” I informed the colt vehemently. I worried briefly that the creature would bestow its damp display of affection on me once more as it regarded me with large, liquid brown eyes rather quizzically. Then it sneezed at me and loped off on its eight long, wobbly legs which appeared to move in every direction but the one it needed to go in, yet somehow managed locomotion in spite of this.

I watched as the colt wobbled quickly but unsteadily around the little glade, shoving his nose into everything, and I put my chin in the palm of my hand, thinking.

Of course the colt had a name. Everything had a name and so the colt had been named after his birth. I named him Sleipnir in the knowledge I had before his birth that he could not be anything else. Seeing him stumble about, occasionally tripping over his legs and landing in a sprawled heap of limbs in the grass, looking dazed, I also knew that this Sleipnir would grow to be the greatest of horses ever born. Which only left me with one question: What was I to do with the stupid beast?

It would not be possible for me to take Sleipnir as my own mount. I was the Sky Walker and had no need for a horse. I was no warrior and had no interest in things that belonged to such people. There was nothing to my lack of desire to take the beast as my own and force it to bear me beyond the fact that I had no need for one such as Sleipnir. There was no more to my decision than that.

I sighed and called his name, and the colt made his comical way toward me. I quickly scrambled to my feet before Sleipnir could show me his adoration once more and patted the grey head with the cleaner of my hands, giving little thought to the action. He tried to eat my other hand and I firmly removed it from his mouth. My bath, I realized as I looked down upon him, would have to wait.

I have enjoyed everywhere I have travelled, and in each land I find something can be gained. The fiery death that is Jotunheim invigorates me as nothing else ever can. Midgard is beautiful, ever-changing, and full of chaos, bringing joy to my heart. The beauty of Alfheim can compare to none, and is only truly contrasted by the bleakness of Niflheim, the true beauty therein visible to eyes neither mortal nor godly. Both these lands have brought pleasure to me in the past. And Mighty Asgard has a lure to it that no other land shall ever possess, for it is an unending source of entertainment, full as it is of drink and lovely ladies and boisterous fools. My heart is normally warmed with gentle pleasure by the simple act of crossing Bifrost, watching as the colours slowly shift beneath my feet.

On this day, travelling over the rainbow bride lacked something, perhaps because of the added burden upon my slight form. But I travelled nevertheless, without pause, my mind never drifting to such unworthy thoughts as rest, for I was a god and giant in both blood and soul, until such time as I came upon the sitting, perhaps even sleeping, white guardian of the gods. His chin rested on his chest. His hair, soft and the colour of sun-kissed snow, hanging in his face, while his sword rested over his knees, unsheathed, and his mighty horn lay at his side.

Mighty Heimdall inspired little in my heart beyond amusement.

I grinned and crept forward to move past the watchman of the Aesir. It would be a little thing to brag of, I knew, but it was a rare thing to be offered an opportunity to get the best of Heimdall, Odin’s son.

The flat of the sword hit me roughly below the knee and I swore, stumbling.

“Hello, Trickster,” Heimdall said, his voice soft and sleepy, neither raising his head nor opening his eyes, as though I were not even worth such minor exertion.

“Hello, One Ear,” I returned, ducking my head toward the watchman respectfully.

“We in Asgard have not been blessed with your presence for some time, son of Laufey.”

“It warms my heart, Humanity’s Father, to know that you have felt lessened with my glorious presence moved so far from your little sphere.”

“My life is all the brighter when you are absent, Giant Slayer, but I know the All Father has been feeling your absence most acutely.”

“Can one blame him when you are an example of the company he has to endure without me?”

“There are certain rules about that sort of thing, Loki,” Heimdall’s teeth gleamed in a lazy smile as he opened his pale eyes.

I returned his smile with a leer and stood at attention before him.

Heimdall blinked slowly. He licked his lips, frowning lightly. “Sly One . . .”

“Yes?” I beamed at him.

“Why are you naked?”

“There are some things that are more important than clothing when one is attending to the needs of Odin with the greatest haste.”

Another blink as he stared at me without speaking. I shifted from one foot to the other, keeping my smile firmly fixed on my face. “And what are you carrying?”

“It’s a horse, Heimdall,” I said, shooting him a withering glare as I set Sleipnir down on Bifrost, where he stumbled uncertainly on the bridge before gaining his balance and trotting over to the watchman, trying to eat his hair.

Heimdall looked from the colt to me and back again, then slowly let his eyes fall closed. “Horses tend to be larger and have half as many legs, Trickster.”

“Not everything grows to adulthood in the course of a few days, Guardian.”

“You’d know.”

“Which is why you merely sit here and watch birds fly past Bifrost and I am advisor to the Aesir.”

“The last time you were seen here you were charged with disposing of a stone mason and his horse, or so I hear.”

“And I would never think of doubting your hearing, Heimdall.”

“I also heard the stallion was distracted by a mare,” Heimdall continued, his voice low and sleepy.

“A fascinating tale, son of Odin, and were I not on my way to meet with the illustrious figure of your father, I’m sure I’d have nothing better to do than stand here in the nude and listen to you ramble on about such marvellous things as horses. Alas, some of us have duties that take us out of the wind and rain, from time to time.” I leaned forward and tugged Heimdall’s hair from Sleipnir’s mouth, watching the watchman wince as I did so. “Do you fall ill, fair Heimdall, stuck here in the wet for so long, unsleeping?”

“No, Laufeyiarson,” Heimdall said, and I saw the glint of gold as he clenched his teeth while speaking.

I smiled. “You should be on guard for such things, Guardian. Take my advice, and seek comfort in a warm bed lest you fall prey to sudden malady and great Asgard be left unguarded.”

“Good day, Loki,” Heimdall said, gritting his teeth, a hint of colour on his white face.

Once more I bowed to the god before tangling my fingers in Sleipnir’s mane and, with encouraging, senseless words, helped lead the colt off Bifrost, heading to Valhalla.

I stood erect in the corpse hall, surrounded by those idiots who fell in battle in Odin’s name, and those Aesir who had nothing better to do. The lady Frigg stared at me, pouring wine into the lap of one of her sons, going very red, and I smiled at her, leading Sleipnir forward and heading straight for Odin.

The All Father looked at me, and Geri and Freki growled; Geri at me and Freki at Sleipnir, causing the colt to shy back from both wolves and god, trying to hide behind me. I scowled a bit and shoved the colt forward before bowing to my blood brother, hair falling over my face. I didn’t have to look to see the way Odin’s eye was travelling curiously, hungrily, possessively over Sleipnir’s lithe grey form.

“All Father,” I said, my voice full of the most respect, “I have been absent from your side for many months, and this pains me deeply, but I now return, and I bring with me Sleipnir. He will be the greatest of horses known to god or giant. I bore him, and he will now bear you, to hell and back, if need be.” I listened as the unsubtle whispers began around me, and I grinned.