Tragedy In Norway

A lot of my readers are from Norway so I'd like to post that my heart goes out to your country and your people after this terrible tragedy. I fell in love with your country when I was a little girl and it seems unthinkable that such evil could befall a beautiful harmonious land like Norway.

You will be in my prayers.

~Monica Marier

19: Fetch

“I got him,” said Thoki jogging up to Slepnir.  Lor was standing silently behind Thoki. It was hard to tell if he was lost in thought or just lost.

Slepnir shied away from the giant, snorting.

“Of course I don’t expect you to carry him,” said Thoki. He tried to sound reassuring, but really Thoki was disappointed. He had thought that maybe Slepnir had some sort of super-strength that would have solved this problem. Looking at the horse again, however, Thoki realized that there was no way that Lor would even have fit on Slepnir’s back.

“We can just… um… fly… on… er… broomsticks,” he finished lamely.

“Like Harry Potter,” gasped Lor.

Thoki sighed at Lor’s failure to grasp sarcasm.

“Damn it. Looks like we’re walking,” muttered Thoki.  

A bone-splintering howl penetrated the eerie silence and his head shot up in alarm. There was a loud blast and a blistering wind as something exploded and burst into flames knocking Thoki to the pavement.

Standing silhouetted against the light of a burning car was Fenrir.

“…or running. Running is good,” said Thoki, scrambling to get his feet under him.

“I gotcha now, runt!” roared Fenrir.

Slepnir screamed and reared; the whites of his eyes shone in the flames. In one fluid movement, Lor scooped Thoki up and tossed him onto the horse. As soon as his backside hit Slepnir’s flanks the horse’s eight legs became a blur. Thoki looked around to see Lor standing stalk-still against the billowing clouds of illuminated smoke.

“Lor! C’mon!” he shouted.

“I’ll hold him off!” Lor shouted back.

“NO, you moron! I came back to GET you!” Thoki screamed over his shoulder, but Slepnir had gone too far away.  Thoki grunted in frustration before grabbing Slepir’s mane and trying to make him turn 180°. Three of Slepnir’s legs followed suit but the other five wanted to keep going forwards. Thoki hit the pavement, jarring his injured arm and knocking his head on the concrete.

 Slepnir untangled himself and, ears flat against his head, he screamed at Thoki.

“We have to go back!” said Thoki from the ground.

Slepnir pawed the ground menacingly.

“I mean it! Every time Lor and I split up, everything goes wrong! We’re going back!”

The horse snorted and tossed his head.

“Look, you can of dog-meat! I know I can’t fight Fenrir, but I can’t leave Lor to face him alone.”

Slepnir’s head lowered. He looked ready to charge.

“Go ahead! I don’t care! Don’t you get it? I don’t care what anyone does to me anymore! I’ve already been tortured, humiliated and killed. There’s NOTHING anyone can throw at me that will make any difference now.”

Slepnir stepped back a little, his head cocked to the side.

“I dunno about that. Maybe I just don’t know when I’m beat. But I’m not afraid of Fenrir anymore. The worst he can do is kill me… and I’ve been there already.”

 Slepnir shifted between looking forward and looking back, torn in indecision.

“Do what you got to do,” said Thoki.

 Slepnir gave Thoki a sheepish stare before galloping away at full clip.

 “Can’t say I blame you,” sighed Thoki as he picked himself off the ground and started loping back towards Lor. A sudden idea came to him and he changed course towards the police station’s back door.

 “Fenrir might be able to tie me into a pretzel knot… but he’s dumber than a sack of hammers,” Thoki muttered to himself with a thin grin. His heart wasn’t in it. For all his bravado about not being afraid of Fenrir, Thoki knew something he hadn’t told Slepnir — it was all bullshit.

When he came out of the station again, he saw them — two titans locked in mortal combat. Fenrir had let his wolf-side take over and was now biting and clawing at the Jotun in a frenzied fury. Lor’s arms were straining against the wolf’s power, sinews standing out like writhing snakes. Sweat glistened off his ruddy face in the orange light as he withstood Fenrir’s onslaught of blows. He didn’t give one inch of ground, he didn’t cry out, and he didn’t budge, but he wasn’t fighting back either. To do that would have given Fenrir a chance to claw at his stomach or throat, which would have finished him.

He was losing.

Thoki realized it instantly and knew he had only a second to act. He clutched the item he’d fetched from the police station in his sweaty hand.

“HEY, STUPID!” shouted Thoki.

Both Lor and Fenrir stopped fighting for a fraction of a second to look at him, and with an inward groan, Thoki realized that he should have probably been more specific.

 “FENRIR!” he shouted and the wolf’s head grinned at him.

 “Rrrrunt!” he growled through canine incisors. Fenrir couldn’t talk very well in this form. “I’m frough playin’ wif dis Gian’,” he spat. His jaws snapped closed around Lor’s head and with a violent shake, let him sink to the ground. Thoki froze, suddenly unsure of his plan.

“NOW ITF YUR TURN!” he shouted crouching to get a powerful start to his charge at Thoki.

Thoki gulped and held the item aloft as high as he dared.

Fenrir paused ever so slightly.

Thoki squeezed it.

It went, “SQUEAK.”

Fenrir skidded to a halt, starring at the fluffy pink, slightly bedraggled Mr. Babbington in Thoki’s hand.

“You want the toy?” asked Thoki in a bright excited voice.

Fenrir gave an excited whine, while hanging back a little, as if to say, “I would not be averse to having this toy, yes.” His tail betrayed him as it thumped the sidewalk causing large cracks to spread through the concrete.

“You want the toy?” Thoki asked again, waving the pig invitingly.

 Fenrir whined again and lifted a forepaw. The concrete under his wagging tail now had a crater the size of a punch bowl.

 
“Who’s a good wolf?” said Thoki squeezing the pig again.

 A large pink tongue, like a giant hagfish, lolled out of Fenrir’s mouth as he rolled on his back in a show of good will.

“You want it!”

 “Yeah!” shouted Fenrir.

“You want it?”

“YEAH!!!”

 “GO GET IT!!!”  shouted Thoki, and reaching his arm as far back as it would go, threw as hard as he could.

Thoki’s stomach sank as Fenrir launched himself in the air and caught the pig in mid-arc. To his surprise, however, Fenrir trotted back to Thoki and dropped the very wet pig in his hand. He bounced in anticipation.

“AGAIN!” barked Fenrir.

“Kay,” said Thoki wishing he could throw harder. Another idea struck him and he reached his arm back for a second time.

“GO GET IT, FEN!” he shouted. Fenrir followed the projected arc and took off, his claws sending chunks of cement flying as he sped away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Thoki ran to Lor’s side. It didn’t look good. Lor’s face was covered in blood and his breathing was shallow and labored.

“You okay, buddy?” asked Thoki, more out of blind optimism than any real hope.

“I been better,” Lor managed weakly.

“Shit. We have to get out of here before Fenrir gets back. Can you walk?”

“No,” said Lor. Thoki briefly reflected that Lor was the type to say, “I’ll try” or “I can manage.” The fact that he cut through niceties to the bald truth scared him.

Just as Thoki was about to dissolve into hysterics at his hopeless situation, he felt a tug at his sleeve.  He turned in time to get a wet, snotty nuzzle from Slepnir.

“Came back, did you?” he asked sourly.  

Slepnir implied nothing, as he leaned down to let Lor grab his mane. In a few painful movements, they managed to drape Lor over Slepnir’s back and were now making awkward progress down the pavement. They moved as quickly as they dared and their impeded speed drove Thoki nearly insane as he expected any minute for Fenrir to come barreling at them, teeth bared.

“Fenrir gon’ com’ back?” mumbled Lor.

“I hope not.”

“S’been a while. Did you throw farther then?” asked Lor.

Thoki reached behind him and pulled out the plush pig that had been crammed into his belt.

“The only lesson my Dad ever taught me: If you can’t win, don’t play.”

After what seemed like hours (but was in fact 24 minutes), they arrived back at the flat they’d been squatting in. Lor dropped onto the couch that was moldering against the wall. Thoki looked around for something to clean his wounds with. Slepnir stood out of the way began eating a rattan basket.

Lor was already looking better, his Jotun blood made him damn-near impossible to kill, much to Thoki’s relief. It was just as well since there was nothing to treat wounds with around the flat but filthy carpet and a toxic-looking bottle of ancient furniture polish

“Goin’ take a nap for a while,” mumbled Lor.

“That’s fine. Go ahead,” said Thoki with a sigh.

“Sorry everythin’s gone wron’.”

“It… it’s okay. I’m beginning to think this Isfat thing isn’t worth the trouble,” said Thoki with a catch in his voice.  “I just wish… I wish I could have gotten a look at that obelisk.”

As Thoki angrily wiped away an escaped tear he felt warm breath snuffle on his neck. He looked up to see Slepnir with something in his mouth.

“Whatcha got there?” he asked his brother, taking the scrap of paper from him. It was a damp postcard. The address and text blocks were blank, indicating it’d never been used, but turning it over, Thoki stopped dead. On the picture side was a crisp clear photograph of a phallic tower hewn from ancient red sandstone.

“It’s a postcard of the obelisk?” Thoki gasped, laughing in hysterics. “I-I-I can read it! It’s right here!” he stammered. “But it’s just one side of it.”

Six more cards fluttered down from Slepnir’s mouth. They showed the Tower at various other angles and light.

“You did it!” shouted Thoki. He jumped to his feet in feverish excitement and hugged Slepnir’s neck. “YOU DID IT!! You are the BEST freaking brother EVER!!”

 
Slepnir nuzzled his cheek happily.
 
“Where the hell were you keeping those?” Thoki asked in amazement.

18: Frozen Tears

Thoki circled the police station on Slepnir until one fact struck him.

“Why are all the lights out?” he wondered aloud.

Slepnir, of course, didn’t answer but Thoki felt his coarse hair stand up. He whined as if to ask, “can’t you feel it?”

Thoki did feel it. Great gusts of cold air were rising in circles from the building. The icy drafts were punching the warm dry air and causing whirlwinds that buffeted the flying horse. Slepnir was forced to draw back from the darkened edifice. Overhead, there was a rumble of thunder.

“Something’s not right,” said Thoki shivering in his thin cotton shirt. It was then that he noticed the blanket of silence over everything. It was after midnight, true enough, but there wasn’t a single dog bark or a lone car’s headlights. Not even a whirring insect or a chittering bat. It was as if all life had halted.

“Can you bring us in closer?” Thoki asked his brother.

The horse tossed his head and grunted in the negative. Thoki noticed how the horse’s powerful muscles were writhing under his gleaming coat. Flecks of foam were starting to dot his hide with the effort of keeping aloft in the wild wind. Another flash of lighting struck home a few miles away and the air tasted of burning ozone.

“Set me down then,” said Thoki. “I’ll have to go in myself to get him.”

Slepnir touched down and let Thoki slide off his back. As soon as Thoki was on terra firma however, the horse began to pace and champ anxiously. His eyes rolled back in horror at the deserted plaza where the dark building stood. Thoki too felt revulsion at the heavy pall and it gave him goosebumps and made his legs sweat. There didn’t seem any fear of getting caught by humans, the station doors were wide open and strewn with debris. Thoki squinted as he saw a flurry of white in the dim night.

“Snowflakes?” he mumbled.

Slepnir snorted and reared a little.

“Calm down,” coaxed Thoki. “Stay here and wait for me. I’ll try to be as fast as I can.”

Slepnir whinnied and tugged Thoki’s sleeve with his teeth.

“If you’re that frightened, leave,” said Thoki, somewhat harshly.

Slepnir bowed his head and looked contrite, but he still fidgeted nervously.

“Alright then. Just lay low. I won’t be long,” said Thoki patting his brother one last time before screwing his courage and jogging to the door. He reached into his torn tunic and pulled out Mr. Babbington. There was some blood and horse-spit on the plush pig, but it was otherwise intact. Lor would have wanted that.

Thoki shook his head angrily. He was already thinking about Lor like he was dead. That was bullshit. Lor wasn’t dead he was just incarcerated… in a grim creepy African police station which was snowing right now.

“Oh fuck,” sighed Thoki in distress as he took a deep breath and stepped in.

The cold air slammed into his face like a freight train, fragments of ice stinging his cheek. Icy wind roared past the front desk and whistled through the halls and the cells. Thoki blinked at the dim white shapes casting their own queer light in the darkness. It was like being inside an iceberg — everything was in muted greens and blues.  Thoki made his way to the desk, hoping to find a flashlight, or failing that, something he could set on fire. He tried flicking on the desk lamp, but as he suspected the whole building’s power had gone dead.  He rummaged in the drawers and pulled out a two-foot long electric torch. Switching it on, he tried to discern where the cells might be.

He hadn’t gone more than a few yards when Thoki felt something hard beneath his foot. He aimed his torch downwards and squinting in the darkness he just barely made out the shape of a policeman. The man was huddled in a pose of terror and supplication, his eyes staring ahead at some horror. Thoki looked in the direction the man was facing, trying to see what had frightened him, but there was only dim shadows and white drifts in that direction. It was then that Thoki realized that the man was dead. He had been frozen solid by something that caught him so unaware that he hadn’t had time to shut his eyes.

Thoki shivered from more than the cold this time and fought the vomit rising in his throat. As he walked through the police station, he saw more corpses frozen in various activities. Some hadn’t even had time to recoil and were simply paused in mid-stride or mid-sentence.

“What could have done this?” he mused aloud. His voice was snatched up by the wind and tossed away.

When he found his way to the cells, finally, he saw the source of it all.

Lor was standing upright in his cell, a spikey crystalline giant, twice the size of the red-headed lump he usually was. He wasn’t saying anything or doing anything. He was simply standing there, black currant eyes blinking in the darkness… as large crystalline tears slid down his faceted face and smashed on the frozen concrete.

Thoki gasped and the cruel air burned his lungs and stung his throat.

“Lor?” he called out against the howling wind.

Lor shifted a little, his joints making the sound of ice-flows grating together. His onyx eyes took in Thoki, struggling to keep purchase on the slick floor as the wind beat at him.

“Thoki?” he asked. His voice sounded like the wind howling around them — hollow and mournful.

“You got scared again, didn’t you?” said Thoki, trying to keep the terror out of his voice.

Lor nodded. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “I thought I was all alone again. I didn’t want to be alone again.”

Thoki managed a small smile through his shivering blue lips. This was just like their first meeting. Thoki had climbed up Yggdrassil  to Jotunheim to find the whole ice-world empty and deserted… except for one frost giant weeping frozen tears and mourning the fact that he was alone.

“You’re not alone, Lor. I came back.”

“Is it really you?” asked Lor, plaintively.

“It’s really me! I came to get you,” cried Thoki. “Because… because you’re my friend!” He didn’t know why he said it — he felt like a damn fool saying it like that — like some God-dammed preschool kiddie movie. But it was true. He had to say it. More importantly, he had to stop Lor in his inadvertent rampage if he was going to leave the station with his toes intact.

“So what do you say, Lor. Can you keep it together, so we can get out of here?”

“I didn’t mean to kill all the men,” said Lor looking about to blubber again.

“I know you didn’t,” said Thoki nodding. “It was an accident. Come on.”

“One of them was very nice to me,” said Lor as he slowly raised one foot and set it down in the beginning stages of a glacial walk.

“These things happen, I guess,” said Thoki. Already the wind was starting to die down.  “No point in dwelling on it.”

“That’s not true,” said Lor suddenly.

Thoki glanced up to see the giant looking more fleshy and less frosty, but there was a spikiness to his appearance and a fierceness in his eyes that made Thoki shrink. He suddenly remembered just how much the Aesir feared the frost giants of Jotunheim and in a flash knew why that was.

“No life is so worthless that it’s not worth dwelling on Thoki,” Lor said with unusual loquacity. “Every life we encounter teaches us more about ourselves.”

Lor reached down and picked up the frozen body of Daud from the floor. One last frozen tear slid down his face and landed with a “plink” in Daud’s arms.

“What did he teach you?” asked Thoki, pointing to the late Daud.

“Forbearance.”

Thoki looked around at the rime coated cell bars and the snow covered floor. “Forbearance. Right.”

“I think I learned it more in retrospect,” sighed Lor.

Thoki shook his head in confusion. This new philosophical Lor was making him uneasy.

“Let’s go,” pleaded Thoki.

“Alright,” agreed Lor as he lumbered after Thoki without another word.

“Good grief,” muttered Thoki looking around him again in the dim light at the frozen bodies.

Lor only sighed.

“You always do this when you get depressed,” said Thoki shaking his head. “You can’t let yourself get so worked up.”

“Sorry,” muttered Lor, looking more like his old self again Thoki noted in relief.  He still carried the stiff body in his arms, though.

“Hey, cheer up! Look who I brought to see you!” said Thoki, pulling Mr. Babbington out from under his shirt again.

Lor brightened up at the sight of the fluffy pink pig. “Mr. Babbington?”

“Yep. Guess who wants a big ol’ hairy hug?” said Thoki proffering the pig to the giant. Lor gently laid Daud’s body on the ground and reached out for Mr. Babbington. He reverently took the toy from Thoki’s fingers and held it aloft. His currant eyes were round and joyous as he stroked the soft pink plush with one of his huge sausagey fingers.  

His face grew sober again, however, and his brow furrowing he seemed to debate something internally. Finally he lovingly kneeled down and placed the pig in the cold lifeless arms of Officer Daud Latchkara. He patted the piggy on the head like a dog he was discharging to guard something precious.

Without another word Lor lumbered out of the police station with Thoki on his heels looking bewildered.

17: The Book of Lor

Recap: Lor was tricked by Hermes and bound by Gleipnir, the unbreakable cord that once held Fenrir. He is now in the hands of the Egyptian authorities. Thoki, in the meantime has been reunited with his half-brother Slepnir (an 8-legged horse). Slepnir and Thoki are plotting (through various pantomimes and hand gestures) a rescue attempt.

Officer Daud Latchkara was worried. He got the distinct feeling that something weird was going on. First of all, the guy in the holding cell was seven and a half feet tall, and well over 400 lbs. His partner, Hicham, thought the man was probably American. They had a lot of fat people, right? But the red-bearded giant wasn’t fat, he was just HUGE, and the few phrases he spoke were in perfect Arabic. Granted, it wasn’t a Cairo accent. Daud would have been hard-pressed to put a country or region to that accent, but there was no stutter and no mistakes. It was slow and deliberate, but it seemed that everything this giant did was slow and deliberate.

Daud was more worried about the man’s bonds. He and Hicham had tried every implement in the station; scissors, nail cutters, box cutters, and a pair of gardening shears from the janitor’s closet. All were lying in a sad broken pile on his desk. Whatever was tying this poor bastard up, it was unlike anything he’d ever seen. In sad defeat, they helped the Giant hop to one of the cell beds where he lay without moving. His little black eyes blinked reflectively, but he did little else.

Despite the man’s terrifying stature, Daud felt nothing but empathy for him. This moron was obviously the victim of some targeted crime — maybe because he looked so odd.

Daud clanged his tray on the cell bars to announce his presence.

“I’ve brought you some food,” he said.

“Thank you,” said the man.

Daud was momentarily stymied by the fact that the man’s hands couldn’t even take the tray. “Looks like I’m going to have to feed you then,” he sighed. With a few groans, he sat on the hard floor and ripped off a piece of the pita.

“I would appreciate it,” said the Giant meekly. His stomach answered with a rumble that Daud could feel through the floor.

“So what’s your name?”

“Lor.”

“Lor what?”

“Lor Torsson.”

“Ah, you’re from Scandinavia then? Or are you German?” asked Daud, giving Lor some of the lentil stew on a piece of pita.

“The first one,” said Lor, after swallowing.

“Sweden?” guessed Daud.

“I don’t know. It was first a lot of countries, and then one big country and now it’s four or five. It’s hard to tell.  Anyway, I never saw much of the land part anyway.”

“Did you live on a boat?” asked Daud, confused as he gave Lor some of the cheese.

“No, I lived in another world apart from this one. It was made of ice and snow… and more ice,” said Lor.

Daud paused, his hand hovering in the air. Some of the lentils fell off the soggy bread and landed on his pants cuff.

“I’m sorry?”

“I came from Jotunheim, land of the Frost Jotun. Every day we waged war on humans and the gods and when they weren’t around to fight, we fought each other.”

Daud tried to fight against the impulse to jump to his feet and run away. Clearly Lor was insane. Daud tried to regain his calm, reminding himself that the man was tied up and couldn’t do anything to him.

“There a lot of you Jotun?” asked Daud. Maybe this was a gang he was part of… or a cult.

“No. I’m the only one left,” said Lor.

“Oh,” said Daud, sighing in relief as he held up the glass of water with a drinking straw. At least there weren’t a throng of large red-headed men walking around Cairo.

“So why are you the only one left?” asked Daud.

“When the Frost and Fire Giants descended on Asgard we were picked off by the Aesir, who were like nothing we had ever seen. I tried, but I was outmatched almost at the beginning. I had relied too much on my strength… and didn’t expect to fight a woman.”

“A woman?”

“Skadii, goddess of mountains and skiing. She was practically Jotun, a true child of snow and ice… and I was not prepared.”

“Did you fall in love with her?” asked Daud, checking his watch. Where the HELL was the second shift?

“No,” said Lor, to Daud’s surprise.

“You didn’t?

“But I didn’t want to fight her. I didn’t want to stamp out that light. So I ran away.”

Daud didn’t know how much credence to give to any of this until Lor sighed mournfully. Suddenly there was a chill in that stifling cell. Daud had only seen snow a few times in his life but there was a metallic tang to the air that he recognized as the hairs on his arm rose. It smelled like snow. He lifted up the glass of water to give Lor and then dropped it. It was so cold that it burned his hand.

The glass shattered on the concrete floor but there was no splash of water. Instead there was a cylinder of ice rolling across the floor; a straw was sticking out of it like an antenna. Looking up at Lor, Daud screamed. The Giant was covered in frost and ice, like freezer-burned leftover wrapped in foil. His eyes were still alive and sparkling, but his beard was now frozen into crystalline spikes — or were they? The more Daud looked at Lor the more it seemed that Lor was made OUT of ice. His muscles were becoming smooth facets on pale glittering skin the colour of milk.

Closing his eyes and grunting loudly, Lor made another valiant effort to break his bonds. With a loud cry that shook the police station the taut ribbon snapped and fell rigidly to the floor.

Daud spun around on the slick floor and scrambled out of the cell, slamming the door shut. Skidding to a halt at his desk he lifted up the phone just as the power flickered and died. He waited for the back-up generator to kick in, but nothing seemed to happen. He was trapped in the dark in a freezing cold station with a monster made of ice.

Daud offered any prayer he could think of to Jesus, Joseph, Mary, and Saint Michael to keep him safe.  Every second he felt certain that the cell door would go flying across the room like crumpled tin foil and the icy giant would tear through the station... but there was only silence.

Screwing up his courage, Daud grabbed an electric torch and cautiously approached Lor’s cell. The giant was still lying on the cot, head on his arm, staring at the wall. He was free of his bonds, but otherwise nothing seemed to have changed.

As Daud relaxed a little and summoned up the courage to yell for Hicham downstairs, he heard a stifled sob from Lor’s cell.

“I ran away,” Lor whispered.

16: My Brother, the Horse

Recap: Thoki was just menaced by his half-brother, Fenrir, in an ambush. Thoki narrowly escaped when his youngest half-brother Slepnir appeared and flew him to safetey. They were unabe to rescue Lor, however, who was tied up in unbreakable ropes and left for the police.

Slepnir, alighted gracefully atop the roof of a nearby apartment complex. Thoki scrambled off his back and turned to look at his estranged half-brother. After a moment’s awkward silence, Thoki dove forward and embraced him. Slepnir returned the gesture by nickering and chewing on Thoki’s hair.

Slepnir was another parasitic shoot on Loki’s warped family tree. The eight-legged horse’s origin had its roots in a bizarre bout of circumstances that could ONLY happen to omnipotent deities. In summary, Loki’s gift at shape-shifting resulted in his becoming Slepnir’s mother. Loki was thoroughly ashamed of his foal and Slepnir was immediately pawned off on Odin. One of the few times Loki had ever spoken to Thoki like a son was when he was forbidden to go anywhere near Odin’s stables.

Thoki was afraid of horses and shyed away from them as a rule, but this outright ban on the stables made them all the more attractive to young Thoki. Filling his pocket with carrots, he ran down to the stables at night to find Hermod the stable-master fussing over a thin fuzzy thing that seemed to be made of knees. It freaked Thoki out, thinking that it resembled more of a spider than a horse, but the forlorn look on the foal’s face was unmistakable as was the quiet resignation on Hermod’s broad face.

“It won’t eat,” he said gruffly. “I’ve seen it before. The poor thing is heartbroken.”

“I think I would be too if I suddenly found out my mom was a red-headed son of a bitch who said ‘let’s dialogue about that’ all the time,” said Thoki.

Hermod said nothing, but his mouth twitched a little. “We can’t help our family connections,” he said.

 “Is he going to die?” Thoki asked. It seemed to Hermod, that the inquiry was less out of concern than out of academic curiosity.

“He may. You want to try?” asked the stablehand, shoving the bucket of mash into Thoki’s hands. He gave Thoki a look that said, “surprise me,” and then walked out of the stable.

Thoki sniffed at the bucket and wrinkled his nose. “No wonder you’re starving. Look what they’re feeding you,” he said, dropping the bucket. He pulled out the carrots from his pocket and offered them to the horse. The horse sniffed the vegetables and then nibbled them experimentally. He seemed to like them but was having trouble chewing through the tough orange flesh. Thoki thought about this, and then grabbing a carrot and chewing it thoroughly, spat the whole thing into the mash bucket. He offered the premasticated carrot and mash to the foal, who gobbled it up appreciatively. Thoki finished up with the rest of the carrots, spitting the chewed-up chunks into the pan.

“I know this is gross, but this is how they invented mead, so I guess it’s okay,” said Thoki through crunches.  “So you’re another one of Loki’s mistakes, huh?” he mused.

The horse looked up at him with large dark eyes. It didn’t speak — it wasn’t designed for speech —but it had very expressive eyes that seemed to say, “you too, huh?”

“Yeah,” sighed Thoki. “Me too.”  The horse extended a mash-covered nose and nuzzled Thoki’s face.

“Hey! Stop it!” laughed Thoki, trying to keep foal away.

Since that day, they were true brothers. They were never thrown together much. When Slepnir grew from a colt to a Stallion, Odin lent him to any Aesir that needed him and Thoki was never included in that circle.

 In fact, up to now, on this wild night in Cairo, Thoki had never ridden him.

Thoki clutched his dislocated arm, hissing with the pain and looked over the rooftops, trying to discern what was happening in the park. It was no good;  he and Slepnir had flown too far away to see what was happening to Lor. All they could see was the distant wink of police lights.

“We have to go back for Lor!” he shouted , spinning around to look at the horse.

Slepnir’s ears swiveled back and his eyes grew wide.

“No, I’m sure Fenrir took off,” said Thoki.

Slepnir bared his teeth.

“I’m pretty sure,” admitted Thoki.

The horse trotted in a tight circle for a moment, then came back and nuzzled Thoki’s bad arm.

“I know I’m hurt! But I can’t leave him alone! He’s bailed me out so many times… I just can’t leave him.”

Slepnir cocked his head and nickered.

“What do you mean, that doesn’t sound like me?” asked Thoki in annoyance. “What did you’d think I say?”

The horse fell on the ground, rolled onto his back, and put all eight legs up in the air, like a cartoon corpse.

“Oh, ‘ha-ha.’ Very funny,” grumbled Thoki as Slepnir rose again and shook the dust off his dove-grey hide. He then nuzzled Thoki’s face again.

“Of course, I’m happy to see you,” said Thoki quietly. He accidentally bumped his left arm and bit back a wave of nausea. “You’re the number one person I’d have wished to see again.”

Slepnir gave him a penetrating look.

“Okay, maybe you’re the second person,” he said with a wry grin. The horse shook his head in exasperation. “Of course, a DOCTOR would be pretty high on the list right now,” Thoki added, looking mournfully at his useless arm.

Slepnir seemed to consider this. He then turned 180°and backed up to a yard’s distance from Thoki.

“What’re you doing?” asked Thoki warily.

Slepnir didn’t answer but hopped onto his forelegs before his third hind leg kicked Thoki’s elbow upward. There was a sucking sound and a sickening squelch while Thoki’s scream bounced off the rooftops. He was holding his shoulder, which felt like it had been dipped in red-hot lava, and his elbow

“WHAT THE HELL?” he screamed at the horse.

Slepnir screamed at him.

“Are you a trained medical specialist? I don’t think so!” countered Thoki.

Slepnir reared just a little to look menacing.

“Yeah, it’s in, but what about nerve damage? What about this gigantic bruise on my elbow? You could have shattered it, you eightlegged can of dogfood!” Thoki flexed the fingers on his left hand and tried to swallow the vomit rising in his throat.

Slepnir, champed but looked contrite. He cocked his head to the side again.

“NO, I don’t want you to reset my nose! Are you insane?” Thoki shouted, covering his face protectively.

Slepnir shook his head.

“SURE you weren’t gonna kick it. If it’s all the same to you I like it broken,” Thoki said.  “Now what are we going to do with Lor!”

(Whinny)

“Yeah, I suppose he’s safer in jail than he is with Fenrir. Thank God we’re not in Turkey or France. But I still can’t leave him there! …He needs me,” Thoki said as realization stole over him. I think I need him too, he thought.

Slepnir cozied up to Thoki, who finally accepted that the horse wouldn’t try any more first aid and patted his neck. Slepnir sprayed him with a tiny shower of horse-snot, but Thoki’d endured worse today.

“I know he’s a giant, but hey we’re half giant,” said Thoki. “We can’t help how we’re made.”

Slepnir cropped off some of Thoki’s hair and chewed it thoughtfully. Just as Thoki began to feel something in his left arm other than searing horrendous pain, Slepnir jumped up and ran in a circle. “You know someone? Who?” asked Thoki.

Slepnir bowed, so his short brother could clamber onto his back again.

“What do you mean, we’ll see?” asked Thoki in annoyance. But only had his rear-end nipped due to Slepnir’s impatience. “Seriously, WHO? I don’t do surprises, Slep.”

The horse shifted under Thoki until his weight settled comfortably. Then with a piercing whinny and a stomach-churning lurch Slepnir launched himself into the air again.

“Thank GOD I don’t have to roll down any windows to be sick out of,” said Thoki through white lips. 

Ep 15: The Fourth Son

Recap: Thoki wants to get to the obelisk of Heliopolis to see if there are any clues to finding ISFAT, the primordial chaos. Hermes and Robin Goodfellow are trying to stop Thoki from realizing his plan ; they’re worried that ISFAT could undo the fabric of reality. Currently Hermes has Lor in his sway with the help of a plush piglet named Mr. Babbington.

Hermes waved the plush piglet tantalizingly in front of Lor. Lor’s tiny currant eyes were alight with child-like wonder.

“That’s right, Lor. Be a good giant and put Thoki down. Then you and Mr. Babbington can go play,” he said in his deep musical voice.

Lor seemed powerless to object as his large hammy hand reached onto his shoulder and lifted Thoki by the collar of his shirt.

“WOAH! HEY! PUT ME DOWN!” screamed Thoki fighting both Lor’s hand and his strangling collar. “Lor!” he pleaded, “Don’t listen to him! Snap out of it, buddy!” Lor’s arm continued in its slow deliberate arc towards the steps where Hermes and Goodfellow were waiting.

“That’s it, Lor. Mr. Babbington is very pleased,” said Hermes watching Thoki eagerly. A dark delight was stealing over his handsome features and his eyes flickered dangerously. Thoki glared at the Greek with unadulterated hatred.

Alright, you feather-footed freak, Thoki thought. Two can play this psychotic game.

“Lor! Don’t do it! It’s a trap!” cried Thoki.

Lor actually paused this time. “Trap?”

“Can’t you see that their forcing Mr. Babbington to say those things?” moaned Thoki in an overly theatrical voice.

“They are?” asked Lor, eyes wide.

“What are you doing?” hissed Hermes, frowning.

“Mr. Babbington is their prisoner, Lor!” Thoki wailed like a sibyl.

“No he’s not!” insisted Hermes in a childish whine.

A sudden thought struck Thoki and he manipulated his voice to sound high and squeaky. (It also had a British accent for some reason.) “It’s too late for me, Lor! Save yourself!”

“Mr. Babbington?” cried Lor aghast. His eyes began to tear as he surveyed the little fluffy pig in Hermes’ hands. The Greek was staring at the doll in shock.

“But I—”

“Be brave Lor! This is how I want to go!” said Thoki in Mr. Babbington’s voice.

This was more than Lor could stand and the giant burst into noisy tears. Large drops cascaded down his cheeks and pooled in his thick red beard.  Unbeknownst to Hermes, despite the fact that Lor was mourning the fate of an inanimate pink piglet, a fire was slowly being banked in his stegosaurus-sized brain.

“Tell my wife I love her!”  squeaked Thoki, pushing Lor further. This time Lor went over the edge.

“YOU LEAVE MR. BABBINGTON ALONE!!!!” roared Lor.

Hermes didn’t have time to move out of the way before Lor swatted him 30 meters into an ornamental palm tree. The pig turned a few lazy circles in the air, before landing in the giant’s waiting hands.

“I’ve got you, friend!” cooed Lor, hugging the pig tightly.

“Well done, Lor,” laughed Thoki, grinning at Hermes trying to pick himself off the ground.

“Another crumpet, Mr. Crowley. I haven’t eaten since Rome Fell,” the God mumbled in Greek before giggling and falling over.

Thoki shook his head, before remembering that he had TWO tricksters to deal with.

“You want a taste, Puck?” Thoki snarled at the other.

“Not particularly. NOW!” shouted Goodfellow. A long white ribbon fell over Lor. Two shadowy figures darted out from behind the obelisk. Thoki recognized the American brothers, Raven and Coyote, as each grabbed a ribbon end and circled Lor like a maypole.

Lor was trapped in his embrace with Mr. Babbington as the cords bound his arms to his body. Thoki could only look on helplessly as Coyote and Raven pulled the ribbon taut. The brothers exchanged a high-five before joining Goodfellow. Oberon’s son took the ends with them and pulled until his muscular arms rippled like cooking bacon. In a few short moments, Lor had tumbled to the concrete.

Lor struggled and grunted against his bonds, but it was no use. Thoki was speechless. He had seen Lor break out of ropes before, even chains and those little plastic garbage-ties the police used (if he was given a few goes).  But this simple silk ribbon didn’t even stretch.

“What the hell did you tie him up with?” shouted Thoki.

“A special cord, Thoki,” said Hermes limping towards the other tricksters. “You might be familiar with it. It’s made from a cat’s footstep, a woman’s beard, the roots of a mountain, the sinew of a bear, the breath of a fish, and…”

“…The spittle of a bird,” finished Thoki feeling lightheaded. It was the cord that had bound his brother Fenrir all those years ago and kept him prisoner until Ragnarok. “Gleipnir,” he breathed.

“Yes,” said Hermes his face contorted with glee and pain. He was clutching his chest like a few ribs had been broken and his leg had taken a good deal of punishment as well.

“But how did you get Gleipnir?” asked Thoki.

“FROM ME,” came a raspy voice behind Thoki. Spinning around Thoki saw a large hulking shadow loping towards him. Thoki broke into a cold sweat as his eldest brother, Fenrir advanced on him. If Thoki thought Lor was huge, it was nothing compared to Fenrir. The wolf-man wasn’t much taller, but he seemed to take up so much space. His presence was like a black hole that sucked in all rational thought, leaving you petrified. You felt powerless to move or think — there was nothing to do but stare at him blankly until he ripped out your throat.

“Hello, runt,” said Fenrir through pointed canines.

“Hello Fe—” Thoki wasn’t given the chance to finish as Fenrir lunged for him. Thoki wasn’t ready, but some part of his brain was, for he leaped out of the way just in time to avoid his muscle-bound brother. Fenrir was strong, but slow, and it took him a moment to stop his momentum.  He managed to bank a wide turn before rounding on Thoki again but “the runt” was prepared this time.

Thoki leaped on top of one of the cement pylons around the obelisk and jumped over his brother. This time, Fenrir used the pylon to make a tight turn, ripping the post out of the ground as he did so. The four tricksters only just had time to jump out of the way as Thoki scrambled towards the Obelisk.  

He had intended to leap down again, before Fenrir could rally, but a glyph on the obelisk distracted him. There, in the ancient sandstone, nearly worn away from the wind and rain of the ages, was the word, ISFAT.

Thoki froze and tried to read the rest just as a large meaty hand slammed his face against the red rock. He felt a hot and cold sensation in his face along with a dull burning, and he knew his nose was broken. He felt something hard rolling around in his mouth and spit out a tooth. Thoki tried to make sense of what had just happened but everything was a swirling miasma in his head, muddled further by the wooshing sound in his ears.  Then he heard Fenrir’s laughter and remembered.

“Are you going to kill me?” asked Thoki.

“Probably,” said Fenrir. “You didn’t listen to my warning.”

“I’ve never listened to you,” said Thoki.

“True. I always had to do this, first,” said Fenrir, grabbing Thoki’s thin wrist and rotating the arm. There was a sickening snap of tendons and the scrape of bone against bone.

Thoki screamed. He’d tried to keep it in — he’d really tried —but the pain was more than he could bear and it burst out of his chest and went flying into the night sky.

Lor heard it and sobbed.

Hermes stopped laughing and succumbed to his own injuries.

Goodfellow covered his ears.

Raven and Coyote drew a little closer to each other — suddenly the night didn’t seem on their side anymore.

Even Fenrir blanched as the echoes of Thoki’s cry bounced off the huddled buildings and minarets. Slowly lights began to illuminate the windows. People were shouting into the darkness.

“Who’s out there?”

“Are you alright?”

“Do you need an ambulance?”

“No! Call the police!”

Only seconds later there was the wail of sirens and the flash of cruiser lights.

The humans were taking the night back.

Fenrir, felt the unfamiliar paroxysms of fear and relaxed his grip on Thoki. Thoki struggled out of his hairy hands and ran. He’d only gotten a few feet when he remembered Lor strung up like a honey-baked ham and ran back. Thoki thrust his dislocated arm inside his open shirt to keep it from moving around as he jumped over pylons and wrought irons chains to the dais where the obelisk sat. Fenrir and the tricksters were gone, but Lor was still in a rolled-up heap on the concrete, struggling against the unbreakable ribbon.

“Hang on, Buddy, I’ll get you out!” said Thoki in a choked voice as his free hand struggled uselessly against the bonds. He heard voices shouting and Arabic and approaching footfalls. The humans were coming. He began to panic and tugged fruitlessly. Hot tears rolled down Thoki’s face, mingling with the congealing blood from his broken nose. He couldn’t even slip a finger under the cords.

“Go, Thoki! Take Mr. Babbington,” said Lor mournfully as his bulk strained against the ribbon to shift the pink piggy. Thoki pulled with tremendous effort and managed to get the toy out of Lor’s grip. Hope buoyed at the possibility that Lor might have some wiggle room now, but it was dashed as he heard the clatter of shoes surround him and the clicking of hand guns.

“Police! Freeze!” shouted a policeman.

Thoki sighed, rose to his feet and put his good hand in the air still holding Mr. Babbington, while the other flopped limply at his side.

“You’re under arrest for disturbing the peace, destruction of government property, and trespassing on national park grounds.”

Thoki nodded and stepped forward.

That was when he felt a sharp tug on the sleeve of his elevated hand. To his utter surprise (and the surprise of the policemen) he was pulled into the air. He felt the fibres of his loose cotton shirt start to tear and that’s when the dropping sensation took over. He was plummeting towards the obelisk when he felt his backside land on something hard, but pliant… and moving.

Daring to open his eyes again, Thoki realized that he was on a horse …and the horse was flying. Anxiously he looked around for a rider, expecting to find a Valkyrie behind him, but he was alone. A sudden thought struck him and with utmost care (made all the more imperative by the lack of a saddle) looked down to count the horse’s legs.

“One, two, three, four… five… six… seven… eight —SLEPNIR!!”  he shouted, hugging the Horse’s neck warmly. Thoki’s little brother, Slepnir the eight-legged horse, whinnied in response.

Ep 14: Mr. Babbington

Ratatosk scurried up the gnarled back as fast as his sharp claws would take him. Occasionally he’d pause and cock his head as if thinking, “Did I drop off the rent cheque.” Being a squirrel, however, rent cheques weren’t a concern and thus decided, he’d break into a run again, until he was simply a blur of red fur on the world tree, Ygdrassil.  He was going to insult Eagle today. That was his job. There was a constant war between the eagle roosting in the top branches of Ygdrassil, and the dragon eating the roots at the bottom. The two had never met, and each would probably have ignored the other if not for Ratatosk.  It was his job to run insults from one to the other. It had been fun at first, but the eagle and the dragon were sadly unimaginative when it came to hurling slurs. After nearly 3,000 years, it was getting old.

Currently they were stuck on “stupid head.” Ratatosk was about to deliver (for the 6,782,411^th time) the message, “no YOU’RE a stupid head” from the dragon.

On his various trips he saw things; things on Earth and things above and beneath it. And for Ratatosk, seeing was saying. It was impossible for him to think anything without saying it aloud. He’d scramble over root and twig uttering a constant babble of chatter. This, supposedly, was the beginning of rumours.

One month ago he’d seen something interesting, and had run on his trip downward muttering,

“Well, well, welly, well! Loki’s third son is on earth now! He broke out of Hel ages ago and has finally made it to Earth. He’s looking for The Chaos! I wonder what that will mean. I wonder if he knows what it would mean. “

A large clawed hand had snatched him off the bark and brought his twitching nose up to a hair face.

“What was that about my brother,” growled Fenrir.

Now, a month later, Ratatosk saw something else that made him chatter incessantly to himself.

“Loki’s fourth son is coming to Earth! Well well well!”

Ratatosk is one of the reasons why humans only just tolerate squirrels.

***********

“Are we ready?” asked Lor.

“Soon,” sighed Thoki. He hated this.

He’d been pondering  plots and plans all afternoon. Getting to the Obelisk would be tricky a second time, and this time Hermes and Goodfellow would be waiting for him (possibly with back up). Everything had jumped into his mind from disguises to distractions, to a zip-line suspended from minarets, but they all fizzled. Sadly “Lor running up and hitting people” was the strongest plan and the others didn’t even come close.

Thus resolved, they decided to wait for the cover of night. People might be assholes, or the gods might be invisible, but jailtime sucked and witnesses weren’t wanted.  Besides, he liked the night. Night was cooler, quieter, more intimate. It also didn’t make his face a livid lobster red (like it currently was). A break from UV bombardment would be nice too.

He’d stolen a new set of clothes (before his current outfit disintegrated entirely). They were a pair of new black jeans, and a white cotton tunic shirt. It was a cheesy souvenir “dress like a native” shirt, but Thoki felt comfortable with it. The style and the length felt like home, even if it smelled of baked air and SPF 50 (another “investment” of his). A leather belt in the middle and a new pair of shoes and he suddenly felt like a million dollars. All that was left as the sun sank was to keep the butterflies in his stomach down.

He started humming under his breath to keep his nerves under control. Most people would hum a classic tune like “Ride of the Valkyries.” Thoki didn’t see the point of that one. For one thing, Valkyries had simpler tastes in music, Wagner being seen by them as a blow-hard. Thoki’s mother, Sigunn had been a close friend of the Valkyrie Olrun and he knew for a FACT that the large woman’s favorite song was “Hey Mickey” by Toni Basil.

That was something that worried Thoki. The Valkyries were singing “Hey, Mickey you’re so fine. You’re so fine you blow my mind,” thousands of years before Toni Basil was even a zygote. The gods were playing baseball before America was colonized by white man. How was it that time seemed to bubble like that in the immortal plane? It was as if the gods existed for eons, while at the same time existing in the present and centuries into the future at the same time. Odin had only looked about fifty years old, while at the same time, he had been fifty for eternity, BUT (and this was the part that made his head ache) at the same time he’d lived for centuries for only fifty years.

Thoki shook his head to relieve the buzzing sensation of time-space theory trying to wrap itself around his brain.

Eventually he decided to hum something more his style under his breath:

“No more, Mr. Nice Guy… No more Mr. Cleeeeeean…”

“We ready now, Thoki?” asked Lor.

Thoki checked the window of the abandoned flat they were squatting in, the sun was now a thin line of pink icing on the cityscape and the white moon graced the sky like a careless watermark.

“Yeah, let’s go,” sighed Thoki, his bravado deflating.

***

He didn’t know why he thought the Obelisk would be unguarded. It wasn’t a real thought with any sense behind it. It would have been down-right stupid to expect it, but never-the-less upon seeing the two figures on the steps to the landmark, Thoki moaned.

“Crap.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Lor comfortingly. Without another word, he wrapped a meaty hand around Thoki’s torso and lifted the little man bodily off of the ground. Thoki winced at the tight grip but let Lor place him carefully on the giant’s meaty shoulders. He shifted his legs so that they dangled on each side Lor’s neck and got a grip on the ginger curls that rose chest high on him.

“All buckled up?” asked Lor.

“Yep,” answered Thoki in a thin voice.

The walked past the ornamental trees to the large pavement square, where the Obelisk loomed darkly in the night sky. Two figures stood in the moonlight. Hermes and Goodfellow were sitting on the dais steps as calmly as if they were waiting for a ride. It appeared there was no one else waiting with them.

This made Thoki insanely worried.

Lor had wiped the floor with those two tricksters without even breaking a sweat. Did Hermes and Goodfellow honestly think they could best the giant after that first encounter … or did they have something up their sleeves?

Thoki’s palm connected with his forehead. “Of course they’ve got something up their sleeves. They’re tricksters. It’s like asking if a novelist has a liquor cabinet,” he muttered.

Lor lumbered close enough to see the starshine in the tricksters’ eyes and Thoki decided to break the silence.

“Ill met by moonlight, jackasses,” he pronounced.

Robin Goodfellow shot him a dirty look.

“Thoki we need you to drop this stupid obsession of yours,” said Hermes.

“Nothing doing!” spat Thoki.

“I thought as much,” sighed Hermes. Thoki noticed the Greek’s hands were resolutely behind his back. Did he have a gun? “You give us no choice then,” sighed Hermes.

“Ah, hell. Lor, crush his head,” said Thoki.

“Okay,” said Lor reaching forward.

That was when Hermes’ hand whipped out from behind his back. Thoki flinched and even Lor stopped in his tracks.  Both awaited the blinding pain of bullets ripping through their skin… but it never came. Looking up, Thoki saw that instead of something shiny, metal and lethal, Hermes instead was holding something very different.

For one thing, it was fuzzy. Squinting in the dim light, Thoki made out something pale and fluffy and with two winking glass eyes.

“Is that a toy pig?” asked Thoki, nonplussed.

“Yes,” said Hermes  in a musical voice, directed at Lor. “Do you like the pig?”

“Yes,” said Lor.

Thoki craned his neck to the side to catch Lor’s reaction. To his horror, the giant’s currant eyes were wide and shining. They were fixed squarely on the pig in an expression of rapt enchantment.

“Oh crap,” choked Thoki.

“What do you think his name is?” Hermes asked Lor in the same jolly musical voice of a Kindergarten teacher.

“Mr. Babbington?” asked Lor.

There was only a slight pause as Hermes’ brain restarted. He’d obviously been anticipating an answer like Hammy or Sir Oinks-a-lot. “Yes, that’s right!” he answered. Hermes squeezed the pig’s tummy and it emitted a few darling squeaks.

“What’s that Mr. Babbington?” he asked the toy in dead earnest. He pretended to listen as more squeaks echoed off the concrete and were swallowed by the night.

“What’s he saying?” asked Lor in awe.

 “He says he likes you, Lor! He says he wants to go home with you!”

Lor let loose a whimper of impatience. “Can I hold him?” asked Lor with longing, his sausage fingers inching shyly towards the pig.

Hermes deftly stepped out of his reach. “Mr. Babbington would like that very much, but he needs you to do something first.”

“What’s that?” asked Lor hungrily. Thoki’s stomach turned to ice.

“He needs you to put your friend, Thoki down,” said Hermes.