It was not hard to give you my oath, Loki.

The spoken words, but the outpouring,

Of what I had already committed to,

In heart,

For love of you.

There were those who sought to advise me against you,

And as I turned from their caution,

They turned from me,

And as they did, I felt you draw nearer,

Wrapping yourself like a shield around me.

Later, you took me through the tree

Never leaving my side.

You showed me Muspellheim's fire and Nifheim's ice,

Stirring the primordial void within me.

With you, I journeyed to the Gjoll's dark water

Wherein we swam.

Ecstasy I knew

And the voice of my forebears,

Slipping my skin

At the wave of your hand.

Later, I stood before the mother of bone

On the far distant shore,

Held tightly by you.

My presence she accepted,

Though she did not speak

Nor offer her hand.

Rather, she pointed to you

To remind me that I was yours.

I walked with you, in the Iron Wood,

That leafy temple,

Those ancestral trackways

And the clansfolk, who hailed me as “friend of Loki”.

As we walked, I found myself woven in to that place,

By tree and trail

And wild tribal spirit,

And though Midgard is my home,

That old wood has a part of me,

Though you, Loki, have the greatest portion.