Wednesday Odin Novels & Stories

They drew a chariot of wheat, and fresh smoked pork on the bone. “If that bastard harms my daughter with Sithgunt, I shall have my revenge,” Odin grated, his black raven wings and shadowed blue eye smoked in black kohl, face scarred from old battle wounds and gray scorched beard fibers, scowled at the glowing sun as Ratatosk scampered from the Yew of Yggdrasil to the window, carrying messages between Niddhog and Vedr, the serpent gnawing at its’ roots, and the eagle perched atop the Yew’s spine, where Wotan had once sacrificed his right eye for nine days and nine nights to fish in Mymr’s well for the runes. That made him King of the North. Eleleth was stinking chattel shitting in its trough,

’ I remembered my conversation with Abe, when I likened Greg to Wotan, the Wanderer, who spent all his power in his quest for more power. ‘Aren’t Odin and Freya, Wotan and Fricke the same people, just different names in various versions of the myth?’ ‘Very good, Connie. You are really into this!’