You were the last to see her,” said Thor, rubbing the knuckles of his righthand.“No, I wasn’t,” said Loki. “Why would you even say that?”“And you haven’t become old like the rest of us,” said Thor.“I’m old but I’m lucky,” said Loki. “I wear it well.”Thor grunted, entirely unconvinced. His red beard was now snow-whitewith a few pale orange hairs in it, like a once-proud fire become whiteashes.“Hit him again,” said Freya. Her hair was long and gray, and the lines inher face were deep and careworn. She was still beautiful, but it was thebeauty of age, not of a golden-haired maiden. “He knows where Idunn is.And he knows where the apples are.” The necklace of the Brisings stillhung around her neck, but it was dull and tarnished, and it did not shine.Odin,  father  of  the  gods,  held  on  to  his  staff  with  knobby,  arthriticfingers, blue-veined and  twisted. His  voice, always booming andcommanding, was now cracked and dusty. “Do not hit him, Thor,” he said in his old voice.

The Apples of Immortality