By elevatorparty 0 Comments
Date unknown. Pre-Christian Europe.
The village walls came into sight over the hill, he was almost there. He was almost safe. The invaders were so close behind him that he could hear their footsteps and the sounds of their grunts. Their blades clattered off their bronze shields as they chased him. The boy felt his legs grow tired and the blood drip from his shoulder where the arrow had pierced. He kept running. Despite his youth he understood the importance of the moment. He had to warn the village. He reached the gate to the village and knocked on its wooden frame.
“Let me in!” the boy screamed in the Old Gutnish dialogue.
The gates opened and the boy fell in. An old man ran to the boy’s side and caught him as his legs went limp. The boy’s lips moved but no noise was made. The old man leaned in so that his ear was almost touching the boy’s mouth and he listened for anything.
“Invaders...Under Attack” the boy uttered.
The town walls shook. The gates crashed open. They were here. With knives and swords, shields and spears they came, killing and destroying everything they saw. The old man pulled the boy to his feet and dragged him as fast as he could deeper into the settlement.
“May the Gods have mercy on us.” The old man whispered.
The Captain of the invaders, Ymir laughed hard. He pulled his sword out of a corpse’s gut and cleaned the blade with his trouser legs.
“What great sport!” he yelled to his men, who cheered in response. The captain noticed the sky going dark. The sky was blue when they docked their ships but now the weather had taken a turn for the worst.
“My captain!” said the captains first mate Omar, “The weather!”
“What of it?” growled Ymir.
“The lads think it might be the work of Th-”
“I’ll hear no more of your fool’s words!” Ymir grunted “There is no such thing as Gods and Goddesses! There is only this!”
Thunder cracked through the air. The invaders all stopped their plundering. They looked to the sky and held their breaths. Lightning flashed and in the quick illumination a man appeared to come through the clouds.
“Impossible,” thought Omar.
“I SAW NOTHING!” Ymir shouted, “Get back to work! I want to get home to my women!”
The men were no longer listening. An invader screamed in the distance. Ymir squinted to see what had happened but it was too dark. A wind blew around inside the town walls. Another invader screamed out but the noise was almost lost in the storm. In that moment Ymir knew he had to run. He still wouldn’t allow himself to believe in the “Aesir” clan and the other myths but still he felt himself begin to move. His feet began to run. His hand tightened its grip on his sword. To his left: a bolt of lightning hit one of his men. He looked to his right: His first mate was still at his side.
“Captain! What do we do?” Omar shouted.
Ignore him, thought Ymir. Keep running. Make it to the ship and get the hell out of here.
“MY LORD!” screamed Omar. Something in his voice forced Ymir to look back. There stood a man almost seven feet tall. His arms as big as a bears. His hair as wild as the storm and his eyes as bright twin stars. In his hands was a weapon that even the invaders knew the name of, a mighty hammer who’s very presence proved the impossible – that Gods walked among men.
“Thor!” Ymir whimpered.
Thor raised his mighty hammer and laughed. Omar kneeled in front of him. Ymir stood frozen in the spot. The hammer swung and Ymir felt Omar’s jaw bone slap against his cheek. Thor raised his hammer again but this time he took aim for a throw. Ymir begged his legs to move but to no avail. Thor let loose his hammer and its massive weight collided with the captain.
From his place beside the child, the old man watched the mayhem. The storm began to die away and the clouds parted. Sunlight hit the ground again. The old man’s eyes never blinked, never turned away. This was the moment of his long life. Thor, son of Odin, God of the lightning and the thunder; Thor – the God he prayed to – had saved him and his town.
“Milord Thor!” the old man called out, getting quickly to his feet.
Thor turned did not look at the old man.
“Milord Thor,” the old man repeated, “You are a kind and noble God. My people cannot repay you!”
Thor lifted his head at last to look at him. “Are you the one who called me?” his voice boomed and echoed around the walls of the settlement.
“I – yes - my lord, ‘twas my prayer that drew you here.”
“Thank you, old man.” And Thor began to smile, “This was more fun than I have had in a long time.”
With that, Thor raised his hammer and his body lifted into the air. In a moment he was gone out of sight. The old man looked at the child, still exhausted on the ground.
“Are you alright son?”
“Thor is terrifying!” the boy said.
“Is the wolf’s bite any better than the snake’s?” The old man said and felt himself shiver.
The Doctor handed the security guard his passport.
“Business or pleasure Dr. Blake?” she asked him.
“Business.” He replied.
“Enjoy your time here.” She waved him on and the lady next in line after him stood up and gave her passport.
“Business or pleasure Dr Foster?” the security guard asked.
“Business.” Jane Foster replied.
“Welcome to Norway Dr. Foster.” The guard said waving her on.
“C’mon Keith!” Jane called to their final travelling companion.
“Hurry up Keith – the convention only starts tomorrow!” Blake chided.
“Sorry guys,” Keith replied coming just two steps behind them “hate to think you were missing all of Norway just for me!”