"It's the Jarl Thor and my kinsman Frey!" Freya stated coolly.
Thor, mightiest of the old gods of legend, strongest of Aesir? Frey, the mythical kinsman of Freya? I shrugged in defeated skepticism.
None of the fleeing Jotuns reached their horses. The lightninglike sword of Frey stabbed two as they ran, and the terrible hammer of bearded Thor smashed down the others. Then Thor and Frey wheeled their horses. The Hammerer uttered another roar of rage and spurred straight at me.
"Here's a Jotun dog we missed!"
Before I could move, his great hammer, bright-red with new blood, was already raised. I swayed drunkenly, exhausted, unable to defend myself from that terrible weapon.
"Wait!" Freya cried.
The hammer was checked in mid-air. No ordinary man could have halted its downward rush so effortlessly.
"Is he not one of the Jotun skrellings who attacked you?" rumbled Thor.
"He cannot be," Freya said. "For they tried even harder to kill him than me, and he fought valiantly against them."
Frey hurriedly dismounted. His handsome face was drawn with worry as he ran to the woman and caught her shoulders.