Odd and the Frost Giants

“I’m sorry,” he said, in a most un-sorry tone of voice. “I thought my runaway stepson was here.”

Odd looked down at the man. Then he smiled and he said, “It is him. I mean, it’s me. I’m him. I’m Odd.”

Odd wondered if Loki had a fox’s eyes still, or if the fox had always had Loki’s eyes.

“How?” asked the eagle.

“Magic,” said Odd, and he smiled, and thought, If magic means letting things do what they wanted to do, or be what they wanted to be . . .

, in the years that followed, the Gods told this tale, late at night, in their great hall, they always hesitated at this point, because in a moment Odd will reach into his jerkin and pull out something carved of wood, and none of them, try how they might, was certain what it was.

I should point a few things out.”

magic means letting things do what they wanted to do, or be what they wanted to be . . .