Heimdall looked up at his uncle anxiously. He wasn’t afraid, he told himself. The punishment wasn’t meant to harm. He would be placed in a position where it would be impossible for him to repeat his infraction. He would be youthened back to childhood and his memories of the events that precipitated the crime would be erased.

The man had been talking while he was thinking. Probably some kind of ceremony, Lord Tyr loved ceremonies. Heimdall glanced at Gna and she smiled tremulously. He took her hand and then took the apple that Lord Tyr was holding out to him. She took a second apple from the Lord of Justice’s hand. Together, they ate the apples, their second for the day.

The effects were immeadiate and dramatic. Heimdall felt his head swim and he closed his eyes, clamping his hand more firmly on Gna’s. When his head was clear once more he was much smaller. “Just how will you erase our memories?” he asked softly. “And just how much will you erase?”

“Not enough to change who you are,” Lord Tyr assured him. “Think of Lady Gna, what you have done with her and the feelings you have shared. Lady, you do the same.”

Eyes swimming with tears, she nodded. Still clutching each other’s hands, the couple focused their thoughts on one another. Heimdall felt a strange pressure and then the memories began fading away. First the evening they had spent together – the reason they were being punished in the first place. Then the days and nights they had spent together reading poems. Last their first meeting on the bridge.

Heimdall opened his eyes as even the memories of the punishment itself faded. He looked up at Lord Tyr and said, “Uncle, my clothes is too big.”

“I know,” the older man said softly. “The pair of you will need new clothes. I’ll bring you to the Happy Hall and one of the ladies there will take charge of you. Most likely, Lady Freya.”

As they were being led toward the hall, Heimdall turned toward the little girl beside him and said, “Hello. I’m Alarr.” He blushed slightly as he noticed she was holding his hand. She was very pretty.

“My name is Lifa,” she replied, flashing him a bright smile.

Advertisements