It is a pity that there are no big creatures to prey on humanity. If there were enough dragons and rocs, perhaps mankind would turn its might against them. Unfortunately man is preyed upon by microbes, which are too small to be appreciated.

If you survive in battle, it is with Odin's grace, and if you fall, it is because he has betrayed you.

Melisande lay in bed in the loft of her cottage in Graebrok Forest north of Odr. Wide awake and blinking in the dark, she listened to the mice above her head. Nearly a moon past, her swordsman had repaired a crack in the eaves before returning to the towers and yards of Merhafr, the great port on the Njorth Sea, where he served as a King’s Ranger. His name was Othin, taken from a god of wisdom, trickery and war. What such a one knew of carpentry, well, that was open to question. But he knew other things. Nice things.

As a demigod - Fen cleared his throat - "I am flush with power. My power can be transformed into the kind of energy you need to feed." As he spoke, his eyes sparked with something feral that sent shivers racing down my spine. "It can happen from touch, kissing, but the greatest source is during the act of..." Ohmygodsinheaven. "Sex? Are you referring to sex?"... "My power becomes concentrated for... a very brief moment. It's all about the transfer of energy from one body to another." He looked wildly uncomfortable. "All who live in Asgard know this already. I've never had to explain it to someone." His semen packs a punch?

My body felt alive. I need more. "Valkyrie," Fen growled, eyes locked on my mouth. "Put your lips back on mine, and I will give you what you crave.

And yet, it was still a performance. Odin and I both knew it. It was a kind of play, a dream of how things might have been if he and I had been capable of trusting each other for a change. And so we hunted, and sang, and laughed, and told heavily edited stories of the good old days, while each of us watched the other and wondered when the knife would fall.

Humans don't leap buildings. Stuntmen with harnesses do. And won't my crashing eight stories to the ground be detrimental to the mission? The dark elves will swarm me and take me hostage instantly." "That might be true, but you're not going to fall," he said.

I nodded to Sam. "I'll just clean up these boxes and meet you out on the floor." Macy's didn't mess around their shoe department in New York. It spanned two floors, and it was always busy. "Okay," she relented. "If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming back to find you." "Got it. I was relieved when she finally walked out of the stock room. I wanted to forget this craziness had ever occurred. Tom bent over to help me as I gathered up the errant shoes. "Dude," he said, "can I touch your arm? I've never touched anyone who's died before.

CA-CAW. CA-CAW. I shrieked and hit the floor. Okay, maybe I needed a little protecting. "Use your spear, Ingrid!" I gestured wildly at the ornate weapon. "That bird is not going back out that window without a fight. Hurry, before it pecks us to death!" Instead of impaling the flying beast with her spear, Ingrid chuckled warmly. "Huggie, it's nice to see you again."--- "If they get to you before I can get you to the Valkyrie stronghold, you'll either be killed or tossed into one of the Nine Worlds quicker than you can say, 'Odin's my dad.

Fen looked mildly amused by my antics. In fact, he was just short of full-on laughing. "Don't snicker at me, wolf. Being naked in your arms..." As I said those words out loud, a kernel of heat seared through me, heat that had nothing at all to do with the scalding temperature of the water. "Well... let's just say it surprised me, okay? I wasn't expecting to be ... unclothed or ... alive, for that matter." "Valkyrie, your nakedness does not bother me in the least." Did his eyes just flare a teensy bit? "It would've been counterproductive to heal you with your clothes on. What was left of them, anyway. I figured your life was worth more than your modesty." His lips went up in a cocky grin. "Plus, it kept me quite... focused on my task.

My name is Phoebe Meadows." I covered my nakedness again with my arms. "I know it's a little late for this, since I'm currently lying butt naked in your arms, and you've already saved my life three times, but now is better than never. You can call me Phoebe if you like.

Master of magic, god of war, Odin wanders alone.

He was here. Nice to have someone to hold my hand in the end. "Valkyrie, I need to lift you. This is going to hurt." His arms slid underneath my body. I screamed. Almost gone. I struggled. Needed to tell him not to worry. It wasn't his fault. Don't bother trying to save me. Hurts too much. "What is it, Valkyrie? You have to stop struggling." His head hovered above my mouth. "There's nothing... left to save.

I remember laughing at that moment, and I remember my son frowning at me in puzzlement. What I remember best of all, though, was the sudden certainty that the gods were with me, that they would fight for me, that my sword would be their sword. ‘We’re going to win,’ I told my son. I felt as if Odin or Thor had touched me. I had never felt more alive and never felt more certain. I knew there would be no more mistakes and that this was no dream.I had come to Bebbanburg and Bebbanburg would be mine.

It was said in the old days that every year Thor made a circle around Middle-earth, beating back the enemies of order. Thor got older every year, and the circle occupied by gods and men grew smaller. The wisdom god, Woden, went out to the king of the trolls, got him in an armlock, and demanded to know of him how order might triumph over chaos."Give me your left eye," said the king of the trolls, "and I'll tell you." Without hesitation, Woden gave up his left eye. "Now tell

Oh Jesus, oh Zeus, oh Odin,” Anya dropped the stick and started shaking. “Oh shit.” The bird spread out its wings, which slowly transformed back into arms and the rest followed until it was a man once more.

I will not be my father's dog.

Let me get this straight," I said once I was settled securely on the rock. "I was struck by some kind of magical energy sent from Odin that shot out of the lights in the storeroom at Macy's, hitting me and knocking me into a pile of shoes? And because of that, I'm now immortal?

Those movies... ridiculously inaccurate. The real gods of Asgard — Thor, Loki, Odin, and the rest — are much more powerful, much more terrifying than anything Hollywood could concoct.

I’d gone from living alone in New York as a lowly shoe clerk to becoming a shieldmaiden with a family to come home to. It didn’t get much better than that.