Svana slipped quietly to the front of the hall and cast a bright smile at the nobles collected before her. She had made a new dress of white linen, drawn in around her waist with a thick tablet woven belt of bright blues and reds, in the basketweave pattern that they favoured in Birka.

She had shuddered when she learnt she was to be first, but realised that she had more chance of being heard properly early in the evening. This was it - her big chance before the Jarl, at last. She was determined to prove herself and make this her best performance ever. Sweet Frigga, let it be so!, she prayed.

"VAES HEIL TO THE JARL! And Vaes Heil to his Esteemed Guests! Lend your noble ears this way, for I've a tale to tell, a tale of the Gods and their shining steads, an epic of Giant proportions!

The days were long in Asgard, and Sunna rode her chariot slowly and confidently through the sky after the end of the Great War between the wise Gods of the Aesir and the beautiful, carefree Gods of the Vanir. The two tribes now lived in a blessed fellowship, and nothing, it seemed, could ever break this frith. Freya was trying to teach Thor the ways of magic (with very little success), whilst Loki was making Frey and Sif laugh with impressions of the other Gods. Forseti and Vili, meanwhile, were matching their wits at a game of Hnefatafl.

As Odin and Frigga sat high in Hlidskjalf, surveying the Nine Worlds mapped out far below them, they talked at length about the fate of the cosmos. But foremost on Odin's mind, as ever, was that final battle against the Jotuns - Ragnarok.

'It's no good, dear' sighed Odin. 'We are getting complacent, and even I cannot predict when Ragnarok will be upon us.'

Frigga nodded sadly, adjusting the newly-spun sunbeams around her celestial spindle. 'The war with the Vanir has left our defences down. This is a Golden Age, but it should be spent working industriously to rebuild our walls.'

Odin scratched his beard at length. 'You're right, of course. We Aesir are master builders! Just look at all our fine halls. We easily have enough gold left for our new fortifications.'

Frigg raised an eyebrow. 'Umm... darling, are you sure we should use gold again? Wouldn't something like, er... stone, be more suitable?'

As Odin was mulling over this alien concept, the eerie wailing of a horn heralded the hasty arrival of Heimdall, the watcher of the Bifrost Bridge. 'My wisest Lord and Lady, there is a mason at the Bridge.' he said. 'He says he has work to offer us.'

With interest, Odin ordered that the mason be brought before him immediately, and summoned all the Gods to listen to what this tall stranger had to say.

'Oi see yer got a wall problem, me lords an' ladies!' presumed the stranger. 'Oi can build one for yer, strong as anyfin'! The 'ole fing, just gimme 18 munfs!'

Odin leaned to whisper in Frigga's ear 'What did he say?' When she translated, Odin nodded and look thoughtful. 'What would you be requiring as payment for this?'

'Ar, not much, that Sun there, an' the Moon, an'... an' that pretty missy thar fer me wife!'

Freya rolled her eyes and shook her head firmly.

'That's ludicrous' said Odin. 'All that for a wall? Begone, you thief of the daylight!'

'Nooooo!' cried Loki in his weasly tones. He scuttled up to Odin's seat and whispered into his ear. All the gods and goddesses leaned in to hear Loki's alternative. 'Get him to build the wall, but only allow him six months! That way he gets most of the work done for us, and we don't have to pay him a thing!'

'I'm happy with anything that doesn't end up with me getting married' scowled Freya the Vanadis, her usual good temper marred by the mason's wholly unreasonable (and all too predictable) demands.

'Very well' said Odin, and summoned the builder to tell him their terms. To the amusement of the Gods, the man agreed readily. 'Oi'll be finished by the winter solstice then. Let me fetch me 'orse Svadilfari, I'll start now!' The bargain was struck, both sides seeming pleased with the arrangement.

The mason got to work and as the months passed and summer turned to autumn and autumn to winter, the Gods began to realise something was very wrong. The wall was taking shape far quicker than they expected. 'Do you see how big those blocks of stone are?' cried Odin. 'How can anyone cut blocks that big?'

'I'm more worried about that great black horse of his' muttered Frigga. 'It seems stronger than any other I've ever seen. At this rate he will finish the wall on time.'

Odin grew angry at this. 'LO-KI!' Loki appeared from behind a pillar, cringing. 'This is all your fault! If that wall is finished by winter solstice, I'll have your nether parts displayed at the base of Yggdrasil for the Nidhogg to chew on!'

Three nights before the solstice, Svadilfari was hard at work hauling the final stones towards the wall, when he heard a silvery whinny and smelt the must scent of a mare in heat. A beautiful, snow white mare was waiting at the edge of the forest... waiting for him! He broke clean free of his load and galloped off, with the mason in hot pursuit. 'Svadilfari! Yer wit-farsaken mule of a hoss! he screamed.

For the next day, and the day after that, the mason could get no work out of the horse at all, and he stormed into Asgard angrily. 'Trickery! Low down accursed trickery!' he wailed. And as his anger flailed at the gods...

... his concentration dropped...

... his disguise fell...

... and his features slowly began to change...

'HRIMTHURS!' shouted Thor. 'I know that ugly, schemeing Jotun!' And with a whirl and a whirl, a throw and an almighty *CRUNCH!* his hammer Mjolnir shattered the giant's skull and the false mason fell to the ground.

'Well, that worked out well' smiled Freya as she poured each God a glass of golden mead in celebration. 'But what I want to know is... where's Loki?'

Where was Loki indeed? No sight was seen of him until several months later, when he returned to Asgard leading a young grey colt with eight legs. 'I see!' said Frigga when she saw him. 'So you were the white mare, hmm? You are a bit strange at times, Loki, but I can't argue with the results.'

Loki just smiled his crooked smile at Odin, who took the colt for his own and named him - Sleipnir!

So now my tale is told, and I must leave you, kind lords and ladies, to your decision. May Forseti's justice make it the right one! Goodnight, with my humble blessings!"

On ending her tale, Svana bowed deeply to the listeners, breathless with anticipation. Such nobility, such kind attention she had never been given by an audiece before. Returning to her seat, she desperately tried to relax and wondered what yarns the other skalds would weave before the feasting ended.

Sleipnir