This story came to me after a deep sleep and a night full of drinking. ~Spaerunn Helgardar

Deep in the forest, south of the edge of the mountains and east of the Rhine sat three figures who were an odd bunch indeed. They huddled around the need fire as it burned brightly. More and more small stave’s were thrown into it as it was brought to life as if to safeguard those around it.
The first man was thin and long in leg and hair in which he wore back in a ponytail. Its blond lengths matched the color of his light clothes that suggested he was nothing more than a common hunter. A bow rested and slung over his shoulder.
The second man was small in frame but lithe and quick. His hair was wild as the color of fire, as where his eyes, bright and intelligent. The clothes he wore were of motley design looking both noble and foolish. He wore a simple dagger at his hip.
The third man was odder still. He was of medium build but strong and sinewy. He wore simple traveling clothes of home spun wool with a heavy blue cloak to cover most of his body. He had a long and full white beard with a wide brimmed hat that fell down over his right eye. The left one shown from beneath it as white and blue as the moon itself.
To describe the three men in more detail would be difficult, for they were not men at all, but Aesir…gods, and they had come to wander the lands of Midgard.

The first to do was to be fed, for when the divine presence shifted from elemental to the physical, the new body needed something to nourish it and keep it connected to the realm. This being said, the long legged one stood and un-slung his bow, heading out into the forest. While this one was gone, the other two began to speak.
“None but the Sly One could build a fire so…” the small one boasted, smiling down at his camp fire. It burned hot and with desire. The older one looked to his companion and smiled in turn. He found that he could rarely argue with his friend when statements like these were made, but still he felt it wise to temper him.
“True, but without something to eat it is wasted for just warmth.”
“I could find food quicker than that one.” the smaller jerked his thumb out into the forest, indicating the long legged one.
“Oh?” the older chuckled, looking into the smaller ones eye. “Is that so?”
“Yes, and you know it too, blood-brother. Was it not the quick Fox who captured both Otter and salmon?”
“Yes, it was you, there can be no doubt. But to the dismay of Otters family, causing us to pay his were-geld.” the older chuckled again.
“Ah, but was it not the Trickster who found the Rhine Gold and ensnared Andivari’s ring to pay the were-geld?”
“Yes, it was you, there can be no doubt. But to the death of the Hrathmir’s Clan, leaving Lofhanah and Silvahnah to the wargs.”
“Ah, but was it not the Gift Fire who—” the smaller was cut off as the long legged one entered the ring of light. His voice was slow but powerful like a river.
“Your praises often come from your own lips, Loki. Should you not let your deeds be spoken by others as to show that your worth has been acknowledged?” his patient gaze settled on the smaller as he set down three fat rabbits next to the camp fire.
“I would agree with you three by three, dear Honeir, if it was not that rarely are my deeds spoken by others, only my folly’s. While the other gods laugh and are accredited with many great deeds, is it not I who give them gifts? Is it not I who mend the mistakes? Is it not—” once again, he was cut off. The older one looked up from the fire that he was staring into and into the small ones eyes solidly. His right eye gleamed black from beneath his hat’s brim.
“Your tales will be remembered, good Loki, for both the deeds and folly’s you do. I will make sure of it, just as the Norns have woven our fates until Ragnarok, so too will I weave your tale for future generations to know of.” he nodded, declaring that the end of conversation. “Now please, good friend, clean the rabbits so that we may eat. My body is hungry for life.”
The small one set about his work of skinning and cleaning the rabbits, making sure that the pelts were good for future use. The long legged one took the rabbits and spit them over the fire, cooking them slowly. After a time they began to eat, and it was the small one who spoke again.
“Such things are easy for you to say, dear brother. Or should I say terrible Ygg, or perhaps Old One Eye?” the smaller laughed, rocking back on his heals and seat as he bit hungrily into the meat.
The older grinned, looking at the smaller again. “I am favorable to the old names, when I was the North wind itself and the Lord of the wild hunt.” he drew forth a horn that hung from his shoulder and looked into its immeasurable depths. As he did so, the horn began to fill with a golden mead.
“Then Woden it is…” the smaller spoke as he was passed the great horn. He drank deeply, draining half of the horn of its honey sweet beer, then looked into the older ones eye. “…do you still keep your oath, All-father?”
“I swore once that I would never drink another drink if it was not from this horn, and not by any others but your side.” he took back the horn, drinking deeply. When he drained it, he spoke again. “This oath I will keep until the bond breaking of our troth.”

This is all I have so far of a short story. I’m not sure where it came from, but I enjoyed it none the less. I hope you do as well.