"Good and Noble?

*Cats*??"

Loki's sudden burst of raucous laughter startled the old storyteller, who was more used to murmurs of wonder and quiet applause at the end of one of his tales. He looked around the room and saw that all the other gods were chuckling and merry-faced too, and there was much winking and slapping of thighs and raising of wine-filled drinking horns going on.

"Sit down, old man, and share our wine, for you have amused us greatly with your wit." With a grin Loki stood up and bowed low, grandly gesturing for the storyteller to take his seat at the feasting board.

Still puzzled at the reaction to his story, the old man sat down hesitantly, too timid and wary to do more than just perch nervously on the edge of the seat. Seeing his guest's confusion, Loki smiled kindly and patted the storyteller gently on the shoulder. "Fear not, father, for we mean you no harm. Rather, as you have amused us so well with your tale, I feel it only fair that we return the favour." Pressing a fine goblet into the old man's hands, Loki smiled again and nodded for him to drink. Trembling lips touched the rim of the vessel and the old man took a draught of the ruby wine. Warmth crept then flooded through him, and he finally began to relax a little.

"Good - that's much better." Giving the old man's shoulder a final squeeze, Loki strode around the table and took up the place the storyteller had used for reciting his tale. After clearing his throat Loki held up his hand for silence, and quickly a hush fell over the gathered throng. Eyes, glittering with anticipation, fixed upon him, and wide smiles greeted his first words as he began his story.

"Not too many midnights past, while the world slept safe in Odin's keeping, it came to be that that very same cat found itself deep in the forest again. Cold rain fell from the black and moonless sky, and chill winds swirled and plucked at the thin, meagre fur on her back. Shivering, Misty picked her way carefully over the damp leaves and twigs that littered the forest floor, her eyes straining to see into the blackness that surrounded her. Hardly daring to breathe, sure that every leaf she trod on, every twig she snapped underfoot, could be heard for miles around, Misty crept on, ever deeper into the wild and tangled forest heart.

Time passed. Soaked now, tired and famished, for it had been many hours since she'd managed to catch any mice, Misty decided to rest and catch her breath a while under a small, low-growing bush. Trying to ignore her growing hunger, she curled up as best she could under the sheltering leaves to nap for a few minutes, telling herself she'd hunt again - *successfully* - when she was rested.

She was a fine, brave hunter, so *surely* her luck would change soon...

Oddly, that was almost exactly what Elflet the giant wolfdog was thinking. For her likewise many hours had passed between meals, and she was even more ravenous than usual. Many times she'd sniffed a promising trail of scent through the forest, only to find after a while that the rain had washed all trace of it away. "Accursed rain", she grumbled to herself, shaking the chill droplets lavishly off her long, black, sodden coat.

A sudden commotion came from the bush next to her as the flying droplets hit it - a loud and startled "MEWL!" - then something small and furry shot out of the leaves, running and thrashing through the tangled undergrowth as fast as its stumpy little legs would carry it.

An excited "woof" was all Elflet had time for, before she too was crashing through the trees, her long strides and keen nose leading her ever closer to her terrified and panting prey.

Misty ran until her lungs felt as if they'd burst, yet still the huge beast drew near and nearer. Knowing she could go no further, knowing she had no strength left to climb a tree to safety (and shaking her head crossly at herself for not having thought of doing that before), the wet, exhausted cat dragged herself under a bush, doing her best to hide herself under a layer of leaves and twigs, and waited. She didn't think it would be long. In the meantime, in the few moments left to her, she would close her eyes and think of Freya, and how wonderful it was, to be going to dwell for all eternity with her in glorious, tuna-filled Folkvang...

A sudden thud as something large-footed pounced - the snap and rustle as the bush's leaves were parted - a fierce hot breath in her face...

Cold hard teeth glinted in the darkness, and ropey, reeking saliva drooled and dripped upon her fur...

Holding the thought of Folkvang to her like a lucky talisman, Misty bravely held her head up and waited for her end...

"BLECH!"

Elflet spat the cat out roughly onto the ground, her eyes watering.

After a few moments spent doing her best to wipe her poor muzzle on the wet leaves, the huge wolfdog sat and regarded her captive with an equal mixture of disgust and puzzlement.

"You *are* a cat, aren't you?" she asked Misty. "I've eaten lots of cats before, but they all tasted nice. *You* taste even worse than Odin's armpits."

"Oh - that - that'll be my flea tonic - the old woman I live with makes it from bark and berries and beetle bottoms or something", explained Misty nervously. "She puts it in my food so I taste so awful the fleas won't want to bite me."

"I can't say I really blame them" Elflet said, wiping her poor tormented tongue on the wet leaves yet again.

A sudden loud and ominous rumble made both of the animals jump, Misty especially, when she realised it was coming from the giant wolfdog's stomach.

"Yes - that's right - I'm *HUNGRY!*" Poking her huge wet snout closer to Misty, Elflet sniffed, then winced and thought better of it.

"Hmmm - maybe if I just swallowed you down whole..."

Preparing to do just that, the shaggy black beast opened its cavernous maw and drew its lips back wide until Misty could see nothing but huge white gleaming teeth...

"STOP!"

"I know where some meat is - *proper* meat - tasty and tender and magical, to boot!" Misty talked fast, the words babbling out desperately. Elflet paused and drew her face away from her protesting dinner as she listened to Misty's tale about magic meat that, despite how much you sliced from it, never got any smaller.

"Where is this meat?" Still keeping one huge paw pressed firmly down on Misty's tail, just in case, Elflet learnt that this old woman who Misty lived in the forest with had once done a kind deed for Freya, who in turn had rewarded her with the magical, endless meat, as well as a bottomless pitcher of wine, a special loaf that always grew fresh and whole, and a wheel of cheese that never ever got any smaller.

"If you let me go, I could sneak into the old woman's hut and get you some food..." Wide-eyed and earnest, Misty tried to look her most honest, helpful best.

"A *LOT* of food...?" Elflet drooled in anticipation, then apologised as she wiped it off Misty's head.

"Oh yes - all the food I can find", Misty said.

"Do you *promise*? If you don't come back, I shall just break my way into the old woman's hut and I shall eat *both* of you for your tricks and lies, you know", Elflet explained patiently.

"If, as you say, the old woman is a friend of Freya's", the huge dog continued, "then I don't think Freya would be very impressed with you to find out it was all YOUR fault that her friend got eaten. A bad creature that would do something evil like that - on *purpose* - would *not* be allowed to dwell in Folkvang."

Misty's brow creased in thought for a moment, but that moment was more than long enough for her to mull over the possibility of *not* going to Folkvang to live eternally with Freya and all the free tuna. Aghast at the thought, she knelt and vowed before the mighty dog that she would return - *with* lots of food.

"Be sure that you do - and remember - LOTS of food!" Elflet took her weighty paw off Misty's tail, and watched as the cat, casting many a worried look over her shoulder, ran off into the darkness.

Misty nosed the faded homespun curtain aside and crept in through the only window. Soft muffled snoring came from the pile of oft-darned blankets on the bed - the old woman was fast asleep. Sighing, Misty made her way over to the tiny fireplace and leapt onto the small kitchen table. With a heavy heart she gathered up the meat and cheese and bread and tied them into the tablecloth, then, collecting that and the jug of wine, she made her way down and tiptoed back towards the window. The old woman, who had been good and kind to her, would be distraught when she found out her magical foods were gone, but at least she'd be alive, and *not* inside the stomach of some giant, ravenous wolfdog.

Cheering up just a little - after all - it *was* a good and noble thing she was doing, saving the old woman from being eaten up by a dog - Misty, casting a soft, fond glance at the sleeping woman, leapt back out through the window and sped off into the dark forest again.

Elflet's ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A quick sniff of the air told her that the cat was returning, and not a moment to soon - she couldn't remember ever being this hungry before.

Snatching the cloth bundle from Misty, the huge dog wolfed it down in one gulp, then swallowed the whole wine flagon. Licking her lips, smiling, Elflet belched enormously then, with a gruff "Thank's, cat - see you later", bounded off into the forest, back the way she had come. Alone now, and even hungrier than before, Misty sniffed around in the leaves and grass in the hope of finding a few dropped crumbs. There weren't any, worse luck, so, with a limp and lacklustre air, Misty returned to the old woman's food-barren hut to sleep.

"AIIIEEEEEEEEEE!"

Misty kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, as the old woman's heartbroken cry of misery tried to claw at her guilty mind.

"It's gone - it's all *gone*! Sobbing, the old woman sat down heavily in her chair, clutching at her chest as she gasped out her anguished lament.

It seemed like the old woman cried for hours, but eventually she grew quiet, at which point Misty finally opened her eyes, meowed and stretched. Padding over to the red-eyed woman, Misty nuzzled and rubbed against her legs insistently. With a small sigh the old woman bent down and stroked the cat, shaking her head sadly as she did so.

"Poor puss - you must be hungry too."

With effort the old woman stood and made her way to the cold hearth. Taking a small bundle of sticks she kindled a fire, every now and then adding more wood until a merry blaze was dancing at the hob. Drawing a small pan towards her, she lifted the lid, then frowned as she looked at the tiny portion of stew left inside. Adding some water and the single slice of bread she had left, the old woman eked out the food as best she could. As the pot simmered, she wandered over to the window and peeked outside. Snow was just starting to fall again, and the sky was low and leaden. Winter was harsh in these parts, the ground frozen, and the wild plants and herbs she used to rely upon for food, before Freya and her marvellous gifts, were all dormant now...

Looking down, she saw the odd little cat Freya had given her meowing up at her, worried she might have been forgotten. Wiping a tear away, the old woman bent and picked up Misty, stroking her behind the ears the special way she knew she liked. "At least I still have you, Misty, even if I seem to have lost all of Freya's other gifts." Smiling sadly, she put the cat down by the warm fire, then bustled about dishing up the food.

"At *last*!" Misty rushed over to the steaming dish the old woman had put on the ground for her, almost knocking the woman over in her hurry. Hunkering down over her bowl, the ravenous cat set to work until not a morsel remained.

"My - you must have been hungry - you certainly wolfed that down fast." The mention of the word "wolf" and the soft, indulgent tone in the old woman's voice as she bent and scraped some of her meagre meal into Misty's bowl gave the cat's conscience a momentary pricking, but that soon passed, and she was once again face-first in her food bowl, oblivious to all else. Had she been less hungry and greedy, Misty would have seen that the old woman had hardly anything left to eat on her own plate, and she would have noticed the quiet tear that slipped down her faded old cheek.

Getting up, the old woman wandered towards the window, flicking the curtain aside so she could look at the world outside. Nearly dark, snow was still falling, heavier now, adding to the thick cloak of white that covered the land. Biting her lip, the old woman knew that there would be no hope of finding anything to eat out there, and that there was absolutely nothing left in her hut to eat...

Shivering - whether with cold or with the sudden realisation that her end was very near, the old woman drew the curtain and prepared for bed.

The next day passed painfully slowly for both Misty and the old woman, with sleep the only respite from their growing hunger. The following day was a little easier, and sleep seemed to claim them more often. By the third or fourth day - Misty had lost track of time - the old woman was looking even more frail and weak than usual, and Misty knew that if she didn't eat very soon she would surely die.

For the first time ever, tears welled up in the little cat's eyes at the thought of being all alone - the old woman had been so sweet and kind to her, and had given her such a loving, if poor, home...

Knowing suddenly exactly what she had to do - what Freya would *want* her to do - the cat jumped up on the old woman's bed and insistently nuzzled her awake.

After what seemed like a very long time the woman's eyelids finally opened, and, when she saw that it was just her cat, she smiled tiredly, and reached out a thin hand to stroke her friend...

"MEOW!!"

Mustering up all her strength, Misty half pulled, half coaxed the old woman from her bed, something urgent in the cat's demeanour making the woman comply. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the old woman watched as Misty ran over to the kitchen table and leapt into the empty stew pot. The old woman didn't comprehend at first, so Misty had to repeat the performance several times, on each occasion ending up in the pot again.

When the cat's meaning finally dawned on the old woman, she smiled and soft tears rolled from her weary eyes.

"Come here, cat" she said, and waited until Misty was snugly ensconced on her lap before continuing. "It's more than kind that you've offered, but no - I can't eat you." Stroking the cat's fur, the old woman bent and kissed Misty on the head. Immediately regretting that she'd done so - the vile flavour of the anti-flea herbs she gave Misty clung to her lips revoltingly - the old woman chuckled wryly and explained that Misty's flesh, because of the flea herbs, would taste so very awful that it wouldn't be *possible* to eat her.

"Thank you for offering though, Misty. May all Freya's blessings be yours when your time comes." Hugging the thought of Freya and endless, bountiful, beautiful fresh tuna to her, Misty curled up on the bed next to the old woman, and both of them went softly off to sleep.

"Freya is even more beautiful than I remembered" Misty thought to herself, "and Folkvang is every bit the right setting for such a glorious jewel".

Looking around briefly on her way into Freya's hall, Misty had managed to glimpse the most wonderful things - playful, fish-filled fountain pools and floral-decked gardens, friendly looking sun-kissed lawns, shaded glades just perfect for a cat nap, and arm-in-arm, strolling ladies of unsurpassed beauty, all dressed in bright gay colours, singing with clear golden tones wherever they went...

A sudden gasp from the crowd of courtiers in Freya's great hall abruptly drew Misty's attention away from her musings. On the dais before her, in a dainty golden chair, sat Freya, and, immediately in front of her, kneeling, was the old woman. Misty knew it was the old woman - she recognised the patched and faded skirt and the roughly mended boots, but that was *all* she recognised. Somehow, while she wasn't paying attention, the old woman had grown young and pretty again, her skin supple and golden, her hair the colour of midnight, and ravens, and witches...

Watching closely, Misty saw Freya rise and draw the still-kneeling woman up, her arms encircling her when she was standing. Smiling warmly, Freya kissed the woman on both cheeks, then, turning to one of her ladies in waiting, she took a small golden key on a chain from the velvet pillow the maid was holding, and, with another smile, placed it around the once-old woman's neck.

"Take this key to all doors in Folkvang, my dear friend, and be welcome. This is your home now too, and all that is here you shall share".

Curtseying, the woman smiled and kissed Freya's hand, before allowing herself to be led off to explore her new quarters, and all the other wonders of Folkvang, by two rather cute, well-muscled guards...

Misty, realising that she was next in line, fluffed her fur out importantly and sat, purring happily, at the foot of the dais. After the reception the old woman had received, Misty was in no doubt at all that she too would be rewarded just as handsomely for all her nobleness and goodness. After all - if it wasn't for her, the old woman would *still* be back down there in Midgard, in her tiny shabby hut, gnawing away on the meat and bread and cheese Freya had given her, instead of being up here in Folkvang, being all young and gorgeous and lithe and feted like a goddess...

"MISTY!"

With a jolt Misty was snapped out of her reverie, Freya's sharp and commanding tone loud, even over the giggles coming from the assembled courtiers.

Realising that she was being summoned by Freya, Misty dashed up the stairs and threw herself lavishly upon the ground at the goddess's feet. One fine-shod foot peeped out from beneath a gown of Saxe-blue velvet, suddenly pinning the startled cat to the floor.

"So - you've come to live in Folkvang too, have you...? Freya didn't sound quite as soft and pleased as she did when she'd been speaking to the old woman, but Misty put this down to perhaps a little tiredness on the goddess's part. Not unduly concerned, Misty answered "YES!" to Freya's question, proudly remembering to add "please" at the end and everything.

"Have you been a *good* cat? And think carefully before you answer." Freya peered down at the trapped cat, her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised in enquiry.

"YES! - I've been kind and gentle and helpful, and I hardly *ever* licked the old woman's plate when she wasn't looking, and she never had a problem with mice or leftovers when I was around, and I guarded the house, and I dusted the windowsill with my tail and I saved the old woman from being eaten by a big hairy dog and *everything*..." Seeing a scowl growing and deepening on Freya's face, Misty thought she must have been boring her, so she let her voice trail off into an uncomfortable nothingness.

"Okay - so those were some of the good things you've done. Now tell me about all the *bad* things...". Freya pressed her foot ever so slightly harder down on Misty, who squirmed uncomfortably.

"Umm...well...I did break that plate that time, and that missing jug of milk - that was me..." Misty hung her head in shame, trying to look suitably guilty.

"Oh really?" Freya replied, "so that was all, was it...?"

Instead of the kind word or indulgent chuckle she expected from Freya, Misty suddenly found herself reefed up high into the air by the scruff of her neck. Two blazing green eyes glared into hers as Freya pushed her face closer to the shocked and squirming cat.

"LIAR!". Freya hissed the words out as she shook the startled cat, her anger visible for all the courtiers to witness.

"You seek to fob me off with childish pranks and misdemeanours, yet you and I *both* know the true blackness in your heart!" Holding Misty up high before the suddenly quiet audience, Freya turned to them.

"This cat, to save her own life, stole precious gifts I gave to a dear friend, and this act caused my friend to die a long and slow death. Now this same cat, instead of being truthful when asked, has chosen to lie and cover up her crimes.

What say you all - should I let an ignoble, bad creature such as this dwell here in Folkvang with us?

"NO!"

Misty *knew* the crowd was going to say that 8(

Freya shoved her face close to the cat again, her eyes gleaming with wrath.

"In return for a great favour you did me I made you a vow once, that, when your days had ended, you could come and live a life of ease and plenty up here in Folkvang. As a goddess, it's naturally forbidden for me to go back on my word, and my word I shall still keep. I shall still let you come live here when your time is done in Midgard, but, as punishment for your horrible trickery and lies, you and all your kind shall henceforth have NINE earth-bound lives to struggle and suffer through first, and NINE deaths as well to endure, before being welcomed here in Folkvang again!". And, with those very words, Freya meanly cast Misty right back to whence she came...

"...and that is how, my friends, poor cats have come to have nine lives ever since."

Loki mock-bowed as the applause and cheers filled the room, his handsome face enlivened by the merry twinkle in his eyes. Pushing a huge platter of meat towards the old storyteller, and a pile of cheese and bread, Loki refilled the old man's glass and bade him eat up. "Come father, dine well - there's *always* plenty more."

Glancing from the ever-laden platters of meat and cheese and bread, to the always-brimming jug of wine, then on up to Loki's wide and somehow wolfish grin, the old man suddenly laughed and smiled and shook his head admiringly - he *finally* understood.