Timber groaned mightily as it fell, cracks echoing through the forest, and another tree too large for ten men to circle their arms around fell with an almighty crash. Any wildlife in the area had long since fled or hidden away in their burrows, driven by the sharp, repetitive blows of an axe. There were only two beings comfortably walking the primordial forest that day, the uneasy shadows cast by its thick canopy proving no hindrance to them.
A mammoth trumpeted in victory, having helped in giving the tree the last push needed to topple it. Beside him, a blond bearded man wiped sweat from his brow, bare chested despite the snow, a mighty axe resting on his shoulder. He breathed heavily but evenly, large gut rising and falling.
“Well done, Trumpetter!” the man said to his companion.
Trumpetter near pranced in response, even as he shovelled more stripped foliage into his mouth, heavy teeth grinding it down.
“Are you ready to return to the town?” Thor asked. He received another trumpeted blast in response. “Then let us go.”
He made his way towards the centre of the fallen giant, judging the thicker base against the length of the trunk. When he reached the spot he was happy with, he let go of his axe and it hovered, waiting. He eyed his chosen spot, sizing up the tree.
With a grunt, Thor punched both hands into its side, driving his arms in almost up to his elbows. Setting himself, he took a deep breath, preparing. Trumpetter gave a noise of encouragement, low and rumbling. With a sharp exhale, Thor lifted the entire massive tree, grunting with the effort. His face reddened as he stepped forward and held his burden overheard, arms extended. They trembled slightly, but held steady as he slowly lowered the enormous thing onto his shoulders. Deeply and evenly he breathed, growing accustomed to the weight. When he was sure he had it, he began to walk.
“The hours approaching, just give it your best,
You’ve got to reach your prime.”
He sang under his breath as he walked, carefully threading through the outer reaches of the forest. The trees were smaller on the path he was taking, but in the sizes he was dealing with, smaller was relative.
“That’s when you need to put yourself to the test,
And show us a passage of time,”
Trumpetter ambled along beside him, happy to be out of Vinteerholm and on an adventure. He did enjoy playing with the children of the town, but there was only so much to see and do within its walls.
“We’re gonna need a montage,
Montage
Oh it takes a montage
Montage”
One unlucky tree was toppled as Thor didn’t quite manage to manoeuvre around it, but it hardly slowed him. The ground grew uneven and he slowed, stepping carefully lest he fumble the lift. Some of the words he had forgotten, and he hummed the tune for a time.
“Anything that we want to go from just a beginner to a pro,
You need a montage
Montage
Even Rocky had a montage
Montage”
The forest began to thin somewhat, and before long he had emerged from it onto an open white plain. If he looked back he knew he would see the mountains looming over the forest, disappearing into the clouds overhead, but he was focused on the weight he held, beginning to feel the burn.
“Anything that we want to go from just a beginner to a pro,
You need a montage
Montage
Oh it takes a montage
Montage”
In the distance, he could see his destination. Not the town itself, but a section of flat ground outside it, swarming with townspeople as they worked. He could already see them taking notice of him, an enormous tree carried horizontally hard to miss, even if he was likely too small to draw attention so far away.
“Always fade out in a montage,
If you fade out, it seems like more time
Has passed in a montage,
Montage”
His pace remained steady, his steps even. In time, he would incorporate lunges and squats, but he knew his limits, and for now simply shouldering his burden was enough. He continued to hum as he walked.
“Montage
Montage”
By the time he reached the makeshift lumber yard outside Vinteerholm, his shoulders ached fiercely and his arms burned, but he pushed on. Workers were sure to clear the way as he was guided to a set of stones, pairs of them laid out in a long line. He sucked in a breath and exhaled, extending his arms and raising his burden with a controlled slowness. For a long moment, he held it, until his arms began to tremble once more. Almost snarling with the effort, he began to lower it forward onto the stones, new muscles straining, until he could set it down gently. Even prepared, the stones sank under the weight, but still they did their job, keeping it off the ground. Thor let out a relieved breath, shaking out his arms and stretching.
The chief woodsman inspected it with a sharp eye, even as others ran along it, checking each stone. Shouts of confirmation came with each one, word travelling quickly, and the chief nodded. “Clear!” he bellowed, and like a swarm of locusts, the workers that had been waiting and watching descended upon it with axe and rope and saw.
Thor stepped back, clearing the way in turn, accepting a water skin offered to him. He drained it in a single long pull and accepted the next, already waiting. The teenage girl offering them to him had another three slung over her person, and he would drain them all.
“Thor,” a familiar voice said. “No trouble?”
“Wolfric,” Thor said, turning to him. “None. The beasts of the forest do not seem to wish to bother me.”
“Strange,” Wolfric said, tone putting lie to his words. Unlike most, he had no tools of lumber or carpentry on him, only his sword and his shield. With so many of their people outside the protection of the walls, a wary eye was needed.
“I see you were persuaded,” Thor said as he finished another skin, nodding towards where Astrid and Elsa were already clambering up Trumpetter.
“They did their chores, and helped Helka with her work,” Wolfric said. He grumbled something to himself. “Will you fetch another today?”
Thor glanced over at the tree he had felled early that morning. It was afternoon now, but already it was much worked over, every branch stripped from it, teams of men working with long saws to chunk it into smaller pieces. The same would be done to the second great tree he had brought, in time.
“No,” Thor decided. “Not until the first is dealt with further.”
They watched for a time, taking in the orderly chaos. Thor’s solution to the failure of the walls of Vinteerholm was a simple one: he would simply aid in building bigger, better walls. If it also served as an opportunity to induct the newcomers into the community as they shared sweat, and provide another trade good with the excess, that was all the better.
“It will keep us occupied, for a time,” Wolfric said. Gone were the days when his words were filtered through fear and worry, of Thor or of more mortal concerns. It was a sentiment shared by many others, now that the malaise of the raid no longer hung over them, and that they had begun to take steps to prevent such a thing happening again. “Three more like those?”
“More,” Thor said.
“You think there will be that much demand for northern lumber?” Wolfric asked, doubtful, but expecting to be proven wrong. “Tyra didn’t take any as a sample.”
Tyra had led the trading expedition south some few days prior, taking with her a force that included Gunnhilde, Eirik, and Halvar, but also those others who wished to prove themselves in some way, or were too restless to stay, like Hildur. To Thor’s surprise, Stephan had not asked to join, his eyes seemingly fixed on Norsca. The Kislevites had gone with them as guides, save Grigori, but his motivations for staying were harder to divine.
Thor gave a shrug that was as much an answer as it was a way to loosen his shoulders. “If there is not, we will find a use for it here. We will do more than replace the walls.”
“Expansion?” Wolfric asked. “I think they did that in my father’s time. Built a new set of walls around the town, then tore down the old.”
“Aye, but more. Bigger,” Thor said. He gestured to the south, towards the river across the town. Just downstream it grew broad and shallower for a time, but the town itself was nestled against the point where the river began to widen. “It would be well to grow across the river. No longship will sail up to the docks if we place a barrier across it.”
Wolfric squinted, as if trying to picture it. “That would be something.”
Thor found himself feeling like a child playing with sticks, but even though the grandeur of Asgard might be out of reach, he could at least see that the lives of those that lived here were safe, comfortable, and without shit in the gutters, even if that last one was just a command to dump it outside town. An actual sewer system was rather out of reach.
“It will do,” he said. “Once Tyra returns with what we need, more plans can be made.”
“So long as they are let past Zenilev,” Wolfric said with a grumble.
“Even if they are not, they can trade there,” Thor said. Zenilev was the nearest Kislev stronghold they knew of, and trying to sneak past it would send the wrong message. Even if they were not permitted further, there was still trading that could be done.
“Likely they refuse them just so they can make a profit for themselves by selling it on,” Wolfric said. “All the best furs and mammoth bones that she took with her.”
“They do have reason to be wary of Norscans,” Thor remarked.
Wolfric grumbled again, but did not gainsay him.
The work continued, branches almost as thick as some trees being sawn off and dragged away for further rendering down, mobs of children old enough to join in the work falling upon them as their parents saw to the harder tasks. Thor watched as young Ragnar clung to the end of a branch his mother was carrying over her shoulder, giggling with each step she took as he dangled and swayed. The woman herself was fighting back a smile, pretending not to know where her son had disappeared to. It was clear that the townspeople had the matter well in hand.
Thor gave a decisive nod. “Keep an eye on the skies. I have business to see to.”
“The other village…?”
“Aye. They’ve still not made contact,” Thor said. Before Vinteerholm had been retaken, he had checked on the other villages that had splintered off. Of the four in the region, only one had escaped the raiders, evacuating before their coming, but it was only now that he had time to check on them again. “I mean to drop in on them.”
“Then they are the ones who should watch the skies,” Wolfric said, quirking an eyebrow at Stormbreaker, still floating at his god’s shoulder. “Unless you mean to walk?”
“It would take more than a short walk such as that to make an impact on this,” Thor said, slapping his gut. Perhaps when the need for trees was no more, he would carve a tunnel into the mountains, and juggle the boulders that came from it. The time saved by taking to the skies was worth more than the benefits of the walk, though a thought occurred to him, and his own gaze strayed to his weapon. Stormbreaker bestowed more than one method of travel…
…but now was not the time to test it. Some unnamed worry, some half forgotten instinct told him that to use the Bifrost would not be a simple matter of summoning the rainbow and strolling through. What it might result in he did not know, and one day he would discover it for himself - but not this day.
“You would have to walk to the deserts of Araby to make an impact on that,” Wolfric said, unaware of his god’s thoughts.
“Ha!” Thor said, barking a laugh. He was pleased his people could finally bring themselves to shed their awe, even if they would only do it in private conversations. There were those amongst the town who still wouldn’t address him with lesser respect than ‘godly one’. Even now the workers flowed around them if they had to get by, none willing to intrude on what was surely an important conversation. “By the time I am done, men will envy my form and women will fight for the right to drape themselves over it,” he added, boasting.
Wolfric opened his mouth to respond, then visibly rethought the wisdom of whatever he was about to say and closed it.
“Hmm?” Thor prompted him.
“Nevermind,” Wolfric said, shaking his head. “They would kill me.”
“Wise,” Thor said, having an inkling as to his thoughts. “I will see you upon my return.”
“Lord Thor,” Wolfric said, bowing his head.
Thor considered returning to the town to retrieve a shirt, but the day was fine enough despite the clouds clinging to the mountains, and he desired to feel the cool breeze upon his bare torso as he flew. He inclined his head to Wolfric in turn, and then his hand closed around his axe. A moment later, he was rocketing up into the sky and away, Vinteerholm a swiftly receding dot below him.
That day, the sky was his and his alone, and he spiralled and spun as he flew upwards. He did not know why those with the luck to be born aloft by him on a tree were so loath to repeat the experience; to fly was one of life’s great pleasures, even more so than wine and women. He shocked an eagle as he blew past it, the regal beast’s yellow eyes widened as it almost squawked. Its gaze followed him, and it attempted to do the same, but there was no hope of a mere animal doing so, and he quickly left it behind as he turned east.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The journey was not a long one, even when he took the time to enjoy it, and the sun still shone when he neared the unnamed village that he had visited so briefly two months ago now. He could make out the burnt down granary, now partially reconstructed, and some movement in the village. He just needed to choose his manner of approach.
Setting down outside the village, a ways along the sole road - path really - that led to it, Thor took a moment to stretch. Stormbreaker settled onto his back, as if in a harness, its haft peeking up over his shoulder. The path was a narrow thing, crowded by the trees on either side, and only the sound of the flowing river carrying through them for company. The cry of an eagle made a lie of that, and Thor glanced up to see another bird much like the one he had startled earlier soaring high above. It couldn’t have been the same one, not at the speeds he was flying, but still it looked similar.
It did not take long to reach the village. When he did, he was first met by a boy in a watchtower, looking out over the trees. They had been cut back away from the village, itself a circular assortment of dwellings and other buildings. So focused on whatever it was the boy was watching, he appeared to have missed Thor’s approach completely. The village was larger than Harad’s, but lacked its walls.
Thor coughed.
Up above him, some three tall men high, the boy gave no indication it had been heard.
Thor coughed again, louder this time.
The boy frowned now, looking over his shoulder and back into the village, but after seeing nothing, quickly looked back to whatever it was that so firmly held his gaze.
“Ahem,” Thor called up.
With a violent startle, the boy almost fell out of the chair he sat in atop the watchtower, more a raised platform than anything, only to recover at the last moment. He looked down, and when he beheld Thor, his jaw fell in shock.
“Good afternoon,” Thor said politely.
The boy continued to gape, showing off a broken canine.
Thor began to feel vaguely self conscious. Perhaps he should have worn a shirt. “Might I enter your village?”
He jerked at the question, as if roused from a torpor. “What,” he said. He was either a small teen or a large child.
“Might I enter your village?” Thor repeated himself.
“But the outlook didn’t catch ya,” the boy said, more to himself than Thor. It was like he was questioning his very eyes.
“I am very sneaky,” Thor offered.
Boy stared at Thor. Thor stared at boy.
Slowly, the boy reached for something hanging from the rail of the tower. It was a leg bone of some kind, with another shorter bone dangling from the end of it by a strip of leather. Without breaking eye contact, the boy began to spin it overhead, and an unsettling thrumming resulted, rising and falling with the speed of the spin. It set Thor’s teeth to rattling, and he couldn’t imagine anyone in the village had missed it. Well, it was one way to sound an alarm.
Heavy footsteps approached rapidly, pounding in the dirt. A large man, though of course not as large as Thor, burst around the corner of the lane that ran into the village, a woodsman’s axe in hand.
“What is it son?” the man demanded, bushy brows furrowed in concern as he looked up at the boy. “More raiders? How many?”
Mutely, the boy pointed at Thor. The man followed the finger and blinked when he saw him.
“One man?” he asked of the boy, though his eyes didn’t leave Thor.
“No signal Pa,” the boy said.
The man gave a grumbling sigh, and nodded. “You did right. Sound the all clear.”
The boy spun his implement again, three quick spins with the last slowly fading out.
“Who’re you?” the man demanded of Thor. “What do you want?”
“I come from Vinteerholm,” Thor said. “I bring word that the raiders are gone.”
“And your name?” the man pressed, hefting his axe pointedly. Its handle was well used, and its blade sharp.
“Thor,” he said, even as he threaded his fingers through his windswept beard. The flight over had done it few favours.
The man nodded, hardly giving it another thought, before stopping still. “Thor, you say,” he said, taking him in with new eyes, looking over his bare feet, work-stained pants, bulging gut, and messy hair.
“I do say,” Thor said.
“...right,” the man said. “I’m Halvdan. What word do you bring?”
“The raiders have been repelled, and Skraevold raided in turn,” Thor said. “Those that could be retrieved were, and then some.”
Off the path, a short ways into the trees, there was movement. Thor spied a slim man with a spear, ready to throw but waiting. He made no indication that he had noticed him.
“All is good,” Halvdan said. “Is that the only reason you have come?” His brows were furrowed, and he spoke like he was caught between belligerence and caution.
“I came to check on this village,” Thor said. “When the raiders first came, I made to check on you, but the village was empty, save one.”
“You’re the one that split him in half then?” Halvdan asked.
“He was whole when I left him, if smoking,” Thor said.
“Hrngh,” Halvdan said. Behind him, a chimney smoked steadily, but the village was otherwise quiet, the few sounds of life that had come from it before Thor’s approach absent. “Thor, then?” he demanded.
“I am he,” Thor said. He was not one to shy away without reason, even if he felt no need to appear in his full regalia. Though perhaps he had picked up some of Loki’s penchant for mischief, given the amusement he felt as Halvar looked him over dubiously once more.
“Just here to check on us then?” Halvdan asked.
“I would offer my help, if it is needed,” Thor said. He was well used to the side quest as a method of earning trust.
Halvdan glanced over at the man still hiding in the trees, disguising it as a look at his son up in the watchtower. Still the village was quiet behind him. “Two hunters went missing this last week. There’s a bear den needs checking. One like you could do it, no trouble.”
“I could do that,” Thor said, shrugging and scratching at his gut. He had to hold back a perhaps unworthy giggle as Halvar was visibly torn between what his eyes showed him and what his brain told him. “What are their names?”
Halvdan blinked. “What? The hunters?”
“Aye.”
“Rand and Bain,” Halvar said. “...will that help you find them?”
“No, not at all,” Thor said.
“Right,” Halvdan said. “Well. Old Hang-lip is an ornery old bastard, and he should still be asleep at this time, but Rand mentioned seeing tracks the day before he vanished, and Bain was headed out that way too.”
“How far away is it?” Thor asked.
“Close enough to get there and return before dark,” Halvdan said. He shifted his grip on his axe. “Wouldn’t suggest it if not.”
“Will your friend be joining us?” Thor asked, tone casual.
Halvdan only hesitated for an instant. “My boy will be staying right where he is.”
“Of course,” Thor said. “But what of your friend, the one with the spear?”
“...he’ll be coming,” Halvdan said. “Can’t trust strangers, no matter their name.”
“Then let us check on Hang-lip, so we are no longer strangers,” Thor said.
Again, Halvdan looked him over, and again Thor had to push back his amusement. “The mountains are dangerous. Are you ready to walk them?”
“I appreciate your concern, but I am sure I will manage with your help,” Thor said.
Halvdan gave him a long stare, brows somehow furrowing even further. “Vali!” he called.
There was a pause, and then the sound of grumbling and light steps through the underbrush. “What?” Vali said as he emerged. He had an unfortunate face, and a chin that could only be partly hidden by his short and thick beard.
“We’re going to Hang-lip’s den. Thor here is coming with us.”
Vali looked him over, keen eyes missing nothing. “Nice axe,” he said.
“Thank you,” Thor said. “Its forging almost killed me.”
The two men shared a look. Vali nodded, as if confirming something, even as doubt lined Halvdan’s shoulders.
Halvdan sighed. “Let’s go then,” he said.
“Do you need to tell your fellows?” Thor asked. “I would not want to make them think I am absconding with you.”
“They know,” Halvdan said. Without waiting for a response, he headed past Thor and back down along the path, expecting him to follow.
Thor did so, uncaring of the way Vali waited until he did, before falling in behind. The walk would be dull, but there were worse things. Overhead, an eagle gave a hunting cry.
X
The den of ‘old Hang-lip’ was not deep in the mountains. It was barely in the foothills to the north, but it was still more of a trek than a walk, enough of one that Thor would have taken to the sky had he been alone. There was little conversation, and Thor found his thoughts straying elsewhere, away from the task at hand. He could not simply leave Vinteerholm, not when it depended on him for protection and especially not when Tyra was away, but nor did he wish to become bound to it, overseeing petty problems. Perhaps once he had returned himself to form, some challenge would come along, though he knew his mother would chide him for tempting the fates like that.
Ahead, Halvdan came to a stop. They joined him on the edge of a ragged copse of trees, grey shale stone ahead, and in the side of a hill not too far away, there was a dark entrance to a cave, or a tunnel.
“That’s it,” Halvdan said. “He should still be hibernating, but if something stirred him, it might be he took Rand and Bain for food.”
Vali shivered beside him. Even with their furs, they still found it cold. “Can’t see any tracks, and last night’s snow covered any there were.”
Halvdan grimaced. “Only fools stick their face into a b-”
“Then the only thing to do is check on the den,” Thor said, already starting forward. The loose stone crunched beneath his bare feet as he left the trees behind.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Vali called from the trees. Halvdan was noticeably silent.
Thor was halfway across the open ground when he saw movement in the darkness of the opening. A moment later, an enormous brown bear began to emerge from its den, and he saw where it got its name from. Half of its jaw had been broken off along one side, what remained hanging down, and it was an old wound. What would have been a life ending wound for another beast seemed to have not slowed it at all, being almost too large to fit through the entrance to its home. Thor noted that the jaw was not its only injury. Still dark with old blood, a broken spear protruded from its shoulder, looking more like a stick than a weapon. He also noted that the great shaggy mass of fat and muscle was looking straight at him, snorting and sniffing in a rage.
“You’re a big boy, aren’t you,” Thor said.
The bear gave a roar, rearing up high. It was already charging as it dropped back down.
“That spear can’t be comfortable,” Thor said. “Let me take care- oof,” he said, as nearly a ton of apex predator slammed into him, bowling him over.
His back prickled and stung as he carved an unwilling furrow through the loose stone, the bear charging after him, swiping at him with its paws. Its breath was rank.
“Calm down now - sun’s getting real - no, bad bear-”
Slavering jaws sought to close around his head, only to be stymied by his fist reaching down its throat to seize the root of its tongue. The bear choked out a protest, splattering him further and spreading a rancid stink all over. Thor’s face screwed up in disgust; it was nearly as bad as the time he had been forced to pass through a bilgesnipe den. Sickly yellowed teeth chewed on his arm, scoring his skin but little more, and it reared up once again. He was brought with it, and he lost his grip on its slippery tongue, going airborne. The bear roared again as it drew one heavy paw back, almost as large as his torso. It meant to strike him as he fell, apparently helpless.
Thor was upside down as he fell, but he brushed the blow away and struck with one of his own, punching the bear in the skull. Still standing, it was driven staggering back, and he landed unsteadily as it tipped over backwards, groaning in pain.
“My patience thins,” he warned it, finding firmer footing in the shale.
The bear began to roll off its back, and the spear in its shoulder was driven in deeper as it did, before snapping under its bulk. It didn’t so much as groan in pain, only snarling at him, apparently not noticing the wound at all as it shook off the last of its dizziness. Closer as it was now, he could see that what should have been brown eyes were instead shot through with red, and the yellowed teeth were not decayed, but stained. Its fury did not come from sleep deprived grumpiness, but from something else. Something it had eaten.
Whatever the cause, it was beyond any help he could give it. Thor pursed his lips as it charged him again with unthinking ferocity, seeking again to bowl him over to rip and tear at him. He let it near, but this time he did not permit it to knock him over. The bear made no sound as he uppercut it with great force, lifting it off its feet. Before it returned to the ground, it was already dead.
Halvdan and Vali emerged from the trees and began to pick their way across the shale, slowly coming to join him, and Stormbreaker returned to his side after getting away from him in the bear’s first charge. For the best, he thought; the stone may have pricked at his bare back but landing on his axe would have been something else entirely.
“Guess we know what happened to Rand,” Vali said, investigating what was left of the spear in the bear, a short foot of wood protruding from its shoulder. “That’s his spear.”
“We can tell his family, at least,” Halvdan said. His gaze was fixed on Thor, somehow warier yet more settled after witnessing the display. “Hang-lip probably got Bain as well.” He glanced over at the den entrance, but only for a moment, quickly returning to Thor.
There was a flutter of wings, and the eagle that had followed them from the village alighted on the remnants of the spear, wings out for balance, before it tucked them in. It seemed unbothered by the three of them, and it made no move to peck at the soft flesh of the fresh kill beneath it, its amber eyes fixed on the treeline they had come from.
“We should at least check the den,” Vali said. “Might be something o’ Bain’s in there. Can’t see anything else livin’ in there.”
Thor turned his gaze away from the eagle. It would be well to find some token for those the hunters had left behind.
The entrance to the cave was larger than it appeared from a distance, looming over them as they neared. The two men were happy to stay at Thor’s back, and the god approached it without fear. As they reached it, however, his face screwed up in disgust at the rank scent drifting out from it.
“That is foul,” Thor said, snorting in a vain attempt to clear it from his nostrils.
“Maybe we should keep an eye on things out here,” Halvdan said.
“Awful dark in there,” Vali added. “Might trip, get in ya way.”
Thor gave them a look. If he was to suffer the stench, he would share his misery. “But how am I to recognise a token of Bain’s?”
“You knew him better than I did,” Halvdan said to his friend.
“Not a fucking hope chief,” Vali said flatly.
Halvdan grumbled, rubbing at his face. “Fine. I’ve got my flint, we’ll-”
“No need,” Thor said, and he conjured a spark in his fist, bright even in the light of day. The two men stared at it, fixated, and when he turned to proceed into the den they followed almost without thought.
Thor made it three steps into the den before he pinched his nose shut, trying not to breathe too deeply through his mouth. He could feel the horrid stench on his tongue, it was so heavy in the air. He raised his hand, letting the light of his power illuminate the cave. It was a bending passage they followed, marked by old blood and other leavings, but soon it came to a large cave hollow. The smell only got worse, and the men began to heave and retch.
“Search swiftly,” Thor said, before spitting to rid his tongue of the taste of the air.
They did, and Thor helped as best he could. The remains of various beasts cluttered the cave, more than a few human bones amongst them. Here and there were items made by mortal hands, dagger handles or carved tokens, but they didn’t get a second glance from the men. The cave was searched quickly, until only the worst of it was left, the large depression to one side that was the bear’s bedding. The reek grew worse as they reluctantly neared it, enough to set mortal eyes to watering.
It seemed Hang-lip had kept the fur of his prey for comfort; what chunks remained after his feeding, at least. Most of it was black or brown, fine and thick, but what manner of beast it came from Thor did not know or care. Vali used his spear to dig around in the matted mess, before seizing something and turning immediately for the exit, already scurrying out.
No time was wasted in following him, and they quickly returned to the outside world, taking in heaving breaths untainted by the foul stench of the cave.
“You’d best have found something,” Thor said to Vali.
Vali held up a leather thong, a small tooth attached to it. “From Bain’s first hunt,” he said, spitting and coughing.
“And…for Rand?” Thor asked, reluctantly looking back at the cave.
“His spear will do,” Halvdan said, nodding at the bear. “I’ll pull it out with my teeth before I go back in there.” He put this thumb to the side of his nose and snorted mightily, before repeating it with the other nostril.
“Good,” Thor said, with feeling. He approached the bear, cautious of the eagle still perched atop it. The bird watched him with wary eyes, but made no move to strike at him. It was a handsome thing, plumage full and beak wickedly sharp.
As he neared and set a hand on what remained of the spear in the bear’s shoulder, however, its face screwed up in almost human disgust. It shrieked, wings flapping as if to ward off the lingering smell.
“Yes, I know, I know,” Thor said. The spear came out, and so did a flow of bile and sickness. He stepped away quickly to avoid it, but there was no avoiding a new flavour to the horrid stench.
The eagle screeched at him, scornful, taking to the air with a hurried flapping of wings, hovering before him.
“I couldn’t have known that would happen,” Thor argued. “You cannot blame me for that.”
The eagle shrieked, swiping him across the face with one wing. Apparently it could.
“Would a fine fish, caught with mine own hands, serve as sufficient apology?” Thor asked.
Landing on the ground away from the slowly spreading pus and filth, the eagle surveyed him imperiously, judging him. Even standing awkwardly, it was quite a size, its head almost of a level with his waist. Inspection completed, it gave a dubious crawk.
“You doubt my ability to catch a suitable fish?” Thor asked, affronted.
The eagle gave an insouciant shrug.
Thor found his eyes narrowing. “Challenge accepted, my feathered friend.”
There was a cough, breaking the developing staredown between god and bird.
“Is…what is she?” Halvdan asked, gesturing at the eagle like it might take offence if he pointed.
Thor looked between them. “She is an eagle,” he said.
“You’re talkin’ to her,” Vali said, as if that might clear things up.
“I speak with Trumpetter, my mammoth friend, all the time,” Thor said, dismissive. “Rare is the being that I cannot share words with.”
The two men shared a glance. “Right,” Halvdan said. He swallowed, eyes flitting to the bear and the fist that had clenched lightning. “Godly one.”
“Lord Thor is fine,” Thor said. He glanced up at the sky; it was still fair despite the odd grey cloud. “Do you require an escort back to your village?”
“Go- Lord Thor?” Halvdan asked. He stood as if expecting the shale beneath him to give way at any moment.
“I understand this venture was your way to determine my intentions,” Thor said, patient, “but if you were confident enough to leave your people, then you must be faring well enough. Am I wrong?”
“No, Lord Thor,” Halvdan said with a swallow. Vali seemed more than happy to let his chief do the talking.
“Then I will not presume to burden you with my presence,” Thor said. “If you find yourselves in need, reach out to Vinteerholm. I am minding the town while its chief is away.”
“Bad history with the chief,” Halvdan said, lip curling.
“Not this one,” Thor said, shrugging. “It is Tyra of the red hair and two axes who reigns now.”
Vali grew interested, feeling safer now that topics of godhood had been put aside. “Fierce fighter. Wouldna picked her as a chief.”
“She promised to pursue those taken,” Thor said, “and she did so.” The eagle gave an impatient flap of her wings. “Now if you will excuse me, I have a fish to catch.”
Axe flew to hand, and he took to the sky, the eagle following in his wake with several mighty wingbeats. Before long, both were small dots in the sky, heading south.
Back on the ground, Halvdan and Vali shared a long look. There were some things that a man couldn’t be expected to deal with absent a strong drink, and neighbours claiming godhood dropping in to check on them were one of them. They turned for home, and the spirits waiting for them there. An empty hillside was left in their wake, only the rustle of trees in the wind and the squeak of a rat as it fled the bear den to break the quietness.
X
Thor was not a renowned fisherman, but he was a god, and there was little the river denizens could do in the face of his might. He stood in the shallows of some swift flowing rapids, form still and intent, waiting for the right moment. Movement caught his eye, and he struck.
“Ha!” Thor said as he pulled a creature the length of his arm from the white waters, unmindful of the cold or how they left his beard and hair soaked. “For you, noble eagle.”
Nearby, perched on a low hanging branch of a tree that extended over the rapids, the eagle inspected his catch critically. The scales glimmered silver, and its jagged teeth tried fruitlessly to chew through the thumb Thor had hooked into its mouth, powerful body flexing about in vain. A moment later, she turned her nose up and away, as if sniffing.
“What?” Thor asked in consternation. “This is a fine catch.”
The eagle turned back to him, yellow eyes judging. She looked from him to the fish and back deliberately, before turning away again with a disapproving clack of her beak.
Mismatched eyes narrowed in response. It was clear that there was something more about this eagle, a superior specimen indeed, but that was no excuse for such unreasonably high standards. “This is as large a catch as you might find in this river,” he protested.
This time a derisive screech was his answer, and the eagle stretched her wings, as if measuring.
“I cannot provide you with a fish larger than the river allows,” Thor said, frowning, free hand going to his hip.
The eagle squawked, taunting, stabbing her beak towards him.
“What, you - you think it my effort that is lacking?” Thor asked. “This is a fair bounty when you were not so much as splashed by the bile!”
An offended screech answered him, and the eagle flapped her wings, taking to the air and leaving the river behind.
“Fine,” Thor said, grumbling to himself. “But this challenge is not yet over!” he shouted up at the bird. He would just have to find a larger fish to uphold his word. But even so…there was something queer about that eagle. He would have to keep an eye on any of its like he saw in the future. There was something about this one, but he knew not if it was to be expected of their kind. She had not come to him in a dream and purged filth from his domain, at least.
Glancing down at the weakly flopping fish he still held, he considered it. Perhaps Kirsa would appreciate the catch, even if an overly picky eagle hadn’t.