There were only a few things more terrifying to Bragi than a woman with fire in her eyes and a huff in her step rapidly coming towards him for an unknown reason. One of them happened to be a woman with fire in her eyes and a huff in her step rapidly coming towards him for an unknown reason carrying a basket. Baskets were just the right size. They could carry anything. She looked like she could be willing to do anything with the anything that she’d put in that basket before she'd headed to their orchard. She was probably after him.
There were only two people who lived and worked in that orchard regularly and the other was off on an adventure with a friend. Bragi couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would have a problem with Idun anyway. It would be like having an issue with baby bunnies with lop ears, or a fluffy white clouds, or sunshine in general. It didn’t happen. Bragi, though, he talked too much, and he wrote, and he played music. Every time someone opened their mouth in a public place, or wrote things that anyone could read, or played songs that anyone could hear, or even just made noise, they risked offending a random stranger. Bragi probably spent more time offending random strangers than anyone in the nine worlds. He didn't know. He couldn't count his enemies. They could be anyone.
She looked a little familiar. Bragi had seen her around, but he'd never been introduced. He hoped she wasn't another irate friend of Blid's. That had all been a big misunderstanding and Bragi had thought he'd sorted it all out. He'd spent so much time with Blid trying to sort it out that he'd found Idun stroking Hermod's cheek by the time Bragi got back. That should count for something in the cosmic scheme of things.
His first impulse was to duck behind the nearest tree, but Bragi couldn’t do that. It would be extremely impolite if she’d seen him. Besides, sometimes predators only got more excited when their prey tried to run, and now Bragi's curiosity was too peaked for escape. He stood his ground and waited. The key was to remain calm and respectful. But not too calm and respectful. Sometimes that only made them angrier.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked when she approached. It was a terrible question. Bragi couldn't count how many terrible turns an irate woman with a basket could take with it. But he couldn't think of a better one, and the situation wasn't entirely hopeless. Maybe she was mad about something unrelated to a current desperate need for apples. Or maybe she'd stumbled into the wrong orchard. Bragi supposed he'd find out soon. He tried to look friendly, but didn't smile. Sometimes they took smiling the wrong way.