Apples for Idun: From the Myths of Time - Norse Mythpunk, #1

By Signy Sigurdson

My name is Morgen, and they've asked me to set the record straight about the Norse myths. Not because I wanted to so much as Idun, goddess of youth, convinced me to do it.

See, she was tired of humanity believing the stories written hundreds of years after her followers had died and moved on to the next world. She wanted the opportunity to tell her story her way. And she wasn't going to give up until I agreed to tell it.

In Asgard, your immortality isn't guaranteed. It's given by Idun in the form of an apple. Now that a giant from Jotun is interested in her, she's gone missing.

But when the gods begin to age, they must go on a desperate search for Idun. Who stole her? And why? And how can they stop their rapid descent into old age before it's too late?

Nobody, least of all Loki, expected it would be he who took the lead in both kidnapping and saving Idun.

Idun must choose to trust her kidnapper or remain with the giant Thiazi in his home in Jotunheim. And really, he's not such a bad guy.

Apples for Idun weaves together vivid descriptions of a mythological world with contemporary realism to tell Idun's story for 21st Century readers, in the words of the gods themselves.

A modern, retelling of the old classics
A great read for both young adults and adults
A wonderful way to gain knowledge of Norse mythology
Apples for Idun is the first book in the From the Myths of Time series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven and Wolf Books
• Release date: Oct 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223220916

Book preview

Dedication

Eg gjev mitt hjarta til deg, mitt eldi, mitt ást.

Preface

I’ve always been fascinated by stories of gods and goddesses. Stories that came before. Before you and me, before Christianity, before the written word.

The stories of the Norse gods are stories from before the written word. We’d like to think we know them from the Poetic Edda and the Prose Edda, and from other stories written down for a variety of reasons. But the truth of the matter is, we don’t. We can’t. 

The earliest written manuscripts come from around the year AD 1150, long after belief in Odin and the others was over and more than 150 years after Iceland formally converted to Christianity. At the time these stories were written, there was no one alive who had worshipped these gods. No one alive even who could tell you the stories as they learned them at the knee of someone who worshipped these gods.

Norse mythology is filled with interesting characters and stories. Almost all of the contemporary stories of the Norse gods come from the Poetic Edda. While many writers have tried to remain true to what was written, nobody is certain if the stories were accurate as they were recorded or merely bastardized versions of oral traditions written down long after the fact.

That’s where I come in. As a lover of all things mythology and fanciful, I’ve retold these tales through the voices of the gods themselves. And through their scribe and reporter, Morgen.

What I’ve told is not a retelling that remains true to what was written before. Rather, I’ve taken liberties with the stories, given the gods new and different lives than what we think we know based on the original myths. 

I imagined these gods come to a 21st Century Midgard. I imagined them wanting to tell Morgen the stories in their own way so we humans get the story straight.

The Norse myths have no set order. They weren’t told or written down with one following another in linear time. The only two stories we can say for certain have a logical place among all the myths are the tales of the beginning and the end. The story of the creation of the universe and the story of the destruction of the same. Creation myth and Ragnarok. Outside of those two stories, there’s not really any rhyme or reason to how they should be told. I’ve therefore taken liberties in which order to share the myth retellings with you. We’ll cavort among the tales with impunity, stopping here and there to delve deeper into one story or another among the many.

In my research, I tried not to go to retellings. I tried to remain with only my translations of the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda (though even those are technically retellings since I cannot read the originals in Icelandic.). 

I hope you can look past this and see the stories for what they are today, and what they’ve always been - a way to see the world as it was and is. We are all storytellers. 

Mistakes and inaccuracies are my own. I hope you can also look past those and get to the nitty-gritty of the stories themselves and enjoy.

If you enjoy these, I’d love to hear from you. I’d like to hear from you even if you didn’t enjoy them. We can chat about the myths.

Your even humble scribe.

Apples for Idun

Morgen Speaks

Morgen

The bar she chose to meet me in was one of those every-city dumps that have a lot of space and yet no fresh air. It smelled of alcohol and isolation. Despite it being one o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, there were a few patrons scattered around the bar or at the tables set willy-nilly about the place.

I recognized her as soon as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. It would be impossible not to recognize her. She was dressed for an evening out in a pale yellow gown and simple jewelry that was subtle but obviously of great value. She was also the only one in the entire place with a smile on her face.

I crossed in front of the scarred oak bar, signaling for a draft beer from the handsome bartender as I headed toward her.

She didn’t rise when I stopped at the table.

Idun?

Her startlingly blue-eyed gaze rose to meet mine and her smile grew even wider than before. You must be Morgen. It’s so nice to meet you. 

She gestured at the chair across the little table from her and I sat without considering doing anything else.

I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it as she started into her story without preamble.

It was always my experience that tricksters make the best of friends, despite being told otherwise all these years.

Did she expect me to whip out paper and a pencil and start taking notes or what? I sat forward to interrupt the flow of words as the bartender set a pint glass before me. I gave him a nod of thanks and took a deep drink. I tipped the glass at him to indicate I’d need another soon and went back to listening.

I’m intimately involved in a story that features one of the most well-known tricksters in the world.

So, let me get this straight, I interrupted in a tone of voice bordering on tolerant disbelief. You’re going to insist that you’re a goddess. Is that the size of it?

She shrugged and her long braid slipped off her shoulder. I want to get the story told right, as I said before.

I didn’t believe her, of course. How preposterous to think God existed, or in this case, the gods existed, and one was sitting in a bar smiling at me. No, she was either a whack job or out to make my life more difficult. Either way, it wasn’t a story I wanted to write.

The idle thought that I ought to speak to my coworkers crossed my mind. Surely one of those stuffy pricks paid her to waste my time like this.

Why not tell it yourself if you want to ensure it’s told right? I asked as I leaned across the little table.

I haven’t the time or the inclination to do so. It is why I wish to hire your services, Morgen. I’ve read your work, it’s good. You’ve a history of telling stories like mine. Why do you hesitate?

I crossed my arms over my chest. Look around you. Tell me what you see.

She did as I requested and let her gaze travel over the entirety of the bar.

I see a bar on a Thursday afternoon. I see three men and five women, a bartender and a cook. I see nothing important. What do you want me to see?

That’s it. Nothing important. A bar. If you wanted to impress me, you should have taken me to Asgard or at least someplace nicer than this.

So, you’re telling me that you won’t accept my money to tell my story because you do not believe that I am Idun, goddess of the North?

I smirked. Yes. That is what I’m telling you.

I could see she thought it was some kind of crazy challenge in the way her eyes narrowed and her smile turned to a gloating grin. 

And if I convince you my story is true, you’ll tell it?

I saluted her with my glass. Lady, if you can convince me that you’re a goddess, I’ll write the damn thing for free.

Oh, that won’t be necessary. You ought to make a living for your work, after all, she said.

Into Asgard

Iᛞᚢᚾ

It took only a moment for Morgen to come to grips with her new situation. Honestly, I was impressed. Most mortals are uncomfortable with