The day the Æsir arrived in the village was a frightful one to be remembered for generations. It was a day that began like any other with mothers rousing husbands and babes from their beds before dawn to conduct the day’s work.

As the sun began its ascent into the sky, the gods began their descent from Asgard. Odin’s chariot was at first mistaken for the sun, the light of dawn glinting off spinning gold wheels. Pulled by the eight-legged horse Sleipnir, the majestic coach floated with ease to the earth below. Following close behind was Freya, queen of Asgard and all the gods. Her cart was pulled by two cats – Bygul and Treagul. Her long flowing hair trailing behind and whipping the clouds into a frenzy.

The king and queen of Asgard were followed by a parade of lesser deities – Loki of the Jotnar, Eir the goddess of healing, Baldur son of Odin, and Frigg the divine mother.

It was a sight that held the villagers transfixed by terror, for they knew not the purpose or intent behind this unexpected and unannounced apparition. A hundred years from now, a young boy would tell his great grandchildren of the miraculous sight – even though his vision had long since left him.

One by one, each member of the pantheon took to the terra. Odin set one golden sandal upon the ground and it seemed the earth glowed beneath his feet. Freya seemed to walk on a tuft of air between herself and the dirt. Loki, wearing intricately-worked leather boots and armor strode confidently into the thrall of onlookers. He was at home amid an audience. Baldur beamed with an internal light that blinded those who tried to look at him. Frigg’s footsteps left sprouted seedlings in their wake – always the divine mother to plants, animals, and humans alike.

Loki was the first to speak.

“Where is the one you call Angrboða,” he asked plainly.

The villagers stood silent, unable to move even their tongues.

Odin looked out across the assembly and spotted a small child who seemed to be relatively unfazed by the arrival of the greatest gods of Asgard. He looked to Frigg to make the matter clear.

“Sweet child,” said Frigg her voice tinkling like bells. “Where can we find your healer?”

The child stood silent, but lifted her arm and pointed a small finger towards the longhouse inhabited by Angrboða.

In three great strides, Odin was at the door of Angrboða the healer. He knocked at the door three times.