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I Bring the Fire Part I: Wolves

That servant meets Loki’s eyes. In his hands, Mimir whispers, “There really is nothing you can do at this
point that won’t make the lady’s situation worse.”
Loki frowns but continues slowly on his way.
By the time he reaches the small door that exits to the garden, he doesn’t think his mood can get worse.
There is a lantern by the door that he gives to Mimir to hold in his teeth, and then they step out into the night
and Loki realizes it’s raining. Soon Loki is wet and chilled and Hoenir is getting heavier and heavier, and
less and less cooperative. It would be better if Loki could swing him over his shoulder, but he also has to tote
Mimir along.
Loki thinks of Odin warm and drunk and happy in his rooms and scowls. He hates being the responsible
one.
Head bent over, he continues on. The rain picks up, and they’re just turning into a walkway lined with
long hedges when Mimir mumbles through the lantern handle in his mouth. “‘ook!”
Loki looks up; a hooded figure is pressed against the hedge. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to be aware of
their approach until they are nearly upon them, and then the figure turns. The hood spills off and Loki and
Mimir are facing a very red-eyed Anganboða.
“What are you doing here?” he says, the words harsher than he intends.
“Is it any of your business?” she says.
Loki stares at her and he knows. “You’re running away,” he says. At least temporarily. From Baldur.
Maybe from her family.
She doesn’t deny it.
He twists his hands on Mimir’s staff. Choosing to run away in the rain, probably without a plan, or
without really knowing where she was going...She’s obviously a bit mad.
The right thing for Loki to do, if he values his position at court, is to convince her to go back to the
palace, grit her teeth, and allow Baldur’s “affections.”
He holds out Mimir’s staff to her and says, “You can come with us.” Apparently Loki can only be
responsible to a point.
She takes the staff, looks up at Mimir and says, “Would you like me to take the lantern?”
“Yesh!” says the head, dropping it from his mouth into her hands.
It was quite nice of her to think of Mimir that way. For some reason it irritates him. Swinging the nearly
unconscious Hoenir over his shoulder, he begins to walk away. A few paces later he turns back. Anganboða
hasn’t moved.
“You need not worry about your honor. You have my oath it is safe with me,” Loki says, the words
spilling out before he even thinks about them.
She tilts her head and then says, “I trust you.” And she does. Loki has a rather keen sense for
disambiguation. She’s definitely mad.
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