16th June 2020 - Holly Springs National Park, Mississippi, United States

“It is well known that the safest place to be in a storm is beneath a Linden Tree, for it is said lightning will not strike a sacred tree with healing properties and there are many tales that say cutting one down brings about misfortune” - Historia Plantarum, lost Botanical writings of Theophrastus the Greek circa 371 – 287 BC

Thor, the god of thunder tried to escape from his prison, he had long considered and discarded, hundreds of potential plans of escape, but none were even remotely viable, except one. He slowly stretched forth and opened his right wrist, and reached for his war hammer Mjölnir, it was a part of him, a part of his main and might, his mantle of power, his grace, what made him a god.

So he always knew exactly where the hammer was, just like he knew where all of his limbs were, and right now, the hammer was 12 feet 4 inches, in front of him buried within a tangle of earthen vines about 4 feet below the ground, and he was sure that it had been put there just out of his reach, intentionally just to mess with him. Usually at a mental or verbal command it would return to him and fly into his hand, he gathered his will and reached for it. The mound of vines, surged and suddenly writhed in movement, the massive bundle becoming tighter and more vines grew to replace those he could hear snapping and breaking beneath the earth.

Most importantly the vines that held him fast partially entombed in the earthen wall behind him, wrapping around his arms, his legs, and through his torso, inside of him and back out above his collarbone, even around his neck and face and gagging his mouth, all these vines tightened in sympathy, thorns grew on the vines, piecing and tearing, from both outside and within and he screamed or tried to through his muzzled mouth.

He knew if he persisted, the vines would literally tear him apart from the inside out, and so he relaxed his will, and closed his empty right wrist in defeat, again. His body would recover and heal, slowly, and when he had gathered all the strength he could, he would try again, it was only a matter of time, after all it had only been twenty two years he had been trying to escape.

Perhaps if he was not trapped underground, and denied access to his affinities of thunder and lighting, water, air then he would be much stronger.

He shook his head, that was precisely why, he was trapped underground in the dark, dry earth. With only the faint light of a few bio-luminescent mushrooms that grew in the corners of his earthen prison, to keep him company. Suddenly he felt a presence and he jerked his head up, and peered in to the dark tunnel before him.

A shadowy figure emerged, it was a man in shape and form carrying a length of wooden knotted staff, with a head of amber and dotted with green opal. The staff emitted a brighter burnished glow allowing him to see more of the figure as he stepped forward. He was tall, a lean and sinewy muscled build, the kind thats formed from living a hard life, rather than the training that builds a warrior, his skin a burned tanned leathery brown telling of a lifetime of being outdoors, with strange primitive marking of white and red ochre on his chest arms and face. He was barefoot, and wore leather leggings tied with hemp, his bare chest exposed apart from a string of beads, and feathers, one necklace contained the same amber and opals as his staff. A shaggy brown bearskin was draped over his shoulders, so thick Thor wondered, if he was wearing it or carrying it. But the most notable thing about this being, was that he had two huge rams horns curling down around his cheeks framing his face and they were affixed to what looked like a shaggy elk headdress from which grew a massive set of antlers.

It was Thor's first time seeing him this close, but he needed no introduction, this was Cernunnos, the ‘Horned One’, and the ‘Lord of the Wild Things’ he had many names. A god of the Celtic pantheon, the Tuatha Dé Danann, and his current captor and enemy.

He stared at Thor for long minutes, Thor unable to move or speak, stared back.

Eventually Cernunnos spoke.

“Why hasth thou broken the truse? for more a thousande turnyng of the Sesyn there hath been peace betwixt thy Aesir and thine Tuatha Dé Danann? Yet ye snucke upone me lyke a hounde, and ye cravenly struck a greuows blow upon mine wodde, I aske ye why so?”

He spoke in an odd mix of ye old English, that Thor could follow, if barely.

Thor tried to verbalize that he couldn't speak, by a mix of grunts, moans, and a waving gesture with his one free wrist and hand.

Cernunnos, blinked only now realizing his captive couldn't speak, he gestured, and the vines around Thor’s throat, and mouth released their grip and retracted.

Thor cleared his mouth, hawked and spat upon the earthen floor at his captors feet. Cernunnos narrowed his eyes.

“You fucking damned besotted union of a horny goat, and a willing tree stump!

NOW! Now you ask!” Thor bellowed, he’d been thinking of that particular insult for a long while now.

“I’ve been tied up here for twenty two years, Why did you not ask me before!” he cried.

Cernunnos, glared he eye’s blazing white he had clearly known he had been insulted, yet destroying this little god would bring him no answers.

“To warre upon thine Aesir, is a matere o’ grete import, one must wysely not act with haste, Besydes I had yet to deyvine a sutable punyshment afore thee, nor recompeynse afore thy Aesir”

Thor was stunned, the fucking incredulity of it, the bloody goat headed fool, had kept him bound here for all these years while he considered, a suitable punishment!

He took a deep breath, calming his boiling anger.

“I have no cause with you or the Tuatha Dé Danann, nor did I wish to break the truce, or offer insult, though I acknowledge my actions did both. I had little choice in the matter. I was commanded to by the fates.” Thor said wearily.

Cernunnos, was taken aback, this was not the answer he had expected, confused he asked.

“Mayhap, if yove the mynde ye shoulde tell, the whole tale?”

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Month of Skerpla (10th June 1998) - Bilskirnir Hall, Asgard

“Fate is a fickle bitch who dotes on irony.” - Glenn Cook, The Black Company Circa May 1984 A.D

Thor landed from flight, upon his mountain in the realm of Asgard, it was a beautiful spring day, the bitter winter now receding, and the usual thunder clouds and lightning that frequented Bilskirnir his hall atop the peak, and though he was tired from his long travel, he took a moment to admire the view. The spring planting was, at hand and mortals toiled below in the valley fields to bring forth, the bountiful grain, which would be put to good use in his mead hall. He grinned just thinking about it.

He proceeded on foot towards the great arched doorways, slowing when he neared them as he could feel, the tremendous buzzing of electrical energy as his wards activated, the magic reaching out when it had detected his approach and prepared its defences, these wards would only work against another god or strong enough spirit or elemental, and not eve he could bypass them, after all he could be a shape-shifter in disguise. He chuckled at the thought as the wards allowed him passage and he made his way through his hall and entered his inner chambers.

He had been overjoyed when he found the lost ancient Asgardian ward designs in an abandoned lair of Jörmungandr the world serpent where some long forgotten magics had been employed to trap the creature, it had taken him a decade of diligent study before he understood them well enough to ward his hall with their runes, even the All-Father had commented that not even he was confident he could breach them clandestinely, and it was said that he invented most of our runes! So for 400 blessed years he had been able to keep his brother Loki out of his home. He had an odd relationship with his brother, Loki was a trickster and loved to mess with his older brother.

The minor stuff he could ignore, filling his boots with putrid mud, and charming them so he couldn't remove them for a week, or bedding a few beautiful virgin maidens at a summer fair while proffessing his undying love to them in his shape-shifted guise as Thor, only to have their angry fathers turn up to his hall the next day, he understood it was part of Loki’s nature to trick and frollic about, but by the all-father he tested him beyond all reason. When he had had enough and slapped the fool around, then threatened him with worse if he didnt leave off, Loki had disappeared and sulked away for months, good riddance Thor thought.

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Thinking it was the end of the matter, all was quiet until word reached him of an army of invading jötunn’s, and he had sent out a call to arms, to his stone guardians, Norse warriors without peer that guarded his hall.

They came to his call, and they marched out to war, yet on the eve of battle he discovered, that all his amour had been placed under an illusion, one that all his arts could not dispel, and they now took upon the form of revealing pink womans lace!

Oh they retained all the attributes of his arms, and would still turn aside a blow from the strongest spear or the fastest arrow, but pink lace! Norsemen weren't prudes, after all some of them went into battle naked to show their valor, but to have his own picked warriors laughing at him, this dug mercilessly at his pride.

He’d slunk off that evening intending to calm his anger by visiting his stables to see his war horses, Tanngrisnir - "teeth-barer” and Tanngnjóstr “teeth grinder” he’d named them that after they trampled a jötunn giant underfoot, all the whilst tearing at his flesh with their teeth, you would think they ate meat and not grain!

They where the most fearsome horses he’d ever known, they stood at 24 hands high, coated black as night and were mean tempered. Few were brave enough to handle them and only he could command them in their traces.

When he came upon them he found his brother had worked his most powerful magics yet, they had been transmuted into goats, calmly chewing their cud and bleating in their stall, they looked at him with placid unconcerned and gentle eyes.

He howled in outrage, so taken upon by fury that he slew the creatures and ordered his men to feast on the remains. Yet on the ‘morrow there in front of his tent, stood his chariot teamed, and waiting with Tanngrisnir & Tanngnjóstr, bleating in their traces. The damned creatures could not be killed!

He had no time to think about it though, as the alarm calls from the horns of the scouts sounded, and Thor leapt on the the chariot, and joined the battle, mayhap immortal goats would be of use he thought.

He was not wrong, Tanngrisnir & Tanngnjóstr, had lost none of their ferocity on the battlefield if anything they seemed even more tyrannical, and he and his men soon carried the day, routing the jötunn’s and felling many of their bravest.

Praises were shouted to the victory father, and his men cheered his name as they marched to his hall to celebrate.

So what, if his chariot was pulled by bleating goats, they could still rip a foes arm from his body with their teeth, and so what if the frilly pink lace would get stuck in his ass cheeks, victory and glory were won.

When the triumphant troops returned to his hall, they marched straight in, only to be greeted by a horrific sight, the hall was in shambles partially on fire and mostly destroyed, before them an entire clan of passed out drunken leprechauns lay scattered sleeping about his hall, some even hanging from the rafters.

“Oh no.”, exclaimed Thor, his entire stock of mead, ale and whiskey were gone, 100 years of brewing drunk in a single sitting.

Norsemen could hold their mead, they drank from Horns not prissy cans or pints, but none of them would sit down and drink with a leprechaun the entire race of little shits had a wooden leg, and were impossible to get pissed, but now? by the All Father a few of them had even puked in their clans pot of gold! nothing could get a leprechaun this drunk. But Loki had managed it, with Thors now viscously depleted stocks.

As mentioned before, he had an odd relationship with his brother.

To cut to the chase, when he’d found the ancient Asgardian wards, and defended his hall, he had enjoyed over 400 years of blissful peace, in-fact he had felt them activate on many occasions most often in the dead of night, followed by howls of anguish and pain outside, and each time he had smiled rolled in his furs and gone back to sleep, confident that nothing could breach them.

So when he felt the powerful emanations of unfamiliar divine being’s just behind him, to say he was shocked is greatly understated.

Fearing an attack, he called his hammer to hand, gathered his most potent lighting strike in his other and swung even as he was still turning, only when he saw the three figures standing motionlessly, he almost crapped himself in panic.

The ‘Three Norns’ or the ‘Three Spinsters’ were divine beings of tremendous power, because they were gods of fate and destiny, it is said they sit at the foot of the world tree Yggdrasill, where they made their home they spun the Wyrd or fate of both gods and men. Even the All-Father Odin himself, Lord and ruler of all Asgard, showed them correct and polite courtesy at all times.

And now the three mysterious clocked figures, with knarled hands clutching staffs and wrinkled faces under hooded cowls, stood here in his chambers waiting for him.

To strike out at fate itself, was a saga told only in hushed whispers around a fire at night, fearful that the outcome of such a dreaded fate could befall anyone for only the highest fools would attempt to do so.

No fool, Thor jerked his hand back and let loose the pent up lightning in a huge crack of blinding light, burning a two foot hole, right through multiple rooms and out through the roof of his hall. His hammer swing now pulled short, thudding breaking through the floor of his chambers.

Panting in terror at what had almost occurred, he bowed low and said.

“My apologies, Elder Grandmothers, I was unaware of your visit to my hall.” He said as a trickle of cold sweat made its way down his back.

“Greetings, young thunder god, no insult was given." They cackled showing sharp toothed grins beneath that kind grandmotherly exterior.

"You phrase it politely but we were not invited, sneaked in did we, like a thief in the night” they said in dry leathery and aged voices.

It was disconcerting to hear as each finished what the other had started saying. It was just creepy!

And them claiming openly that they may be here to do harm, was not bloody helping.

“Nonetheless, my hall is open to you and I offer guesting and hospitality this night should you seek it.” He professed, desperately trying to sell the idea of a non-lethal encounter.

“My, my how courteous the young are?" They wheezed again.

Courteous my ass thought Thor. This is like finding the entire college football team has gate crashed your house party, is drinking your beer and hitting on your sister and you then have to pretend suprise and cordially invite them to stay and pour them another round, because they'd break you in half, if you did not.

"Thats most thoughtful and kind youngster" we accept.” the crones laughed on, clearly finding his frantic maneuvers amusing.

Thor, relaxed slightly, by their own laws, they were now prevented from harming him while hospitality was offered.

“We have called upon you to seek payment, for a service past rendered, young god and to provide fair warning that the payment required is perilous to you indeed.”

The three wives of fate continued.

Thors mind shuddered to a halt as he tried to think this through. Debt and obligation were serious matters with those with power, the gods no exception, so to bargain with fate itself. By the all-father this terrified him.

Worse he couldn't remember ever being so stupid or drunk that he would make such a deal, and in return they wanted something that may cost him is immortal life! Whatever it was, it was a bad fucking deal!

“Forgive me, honored grandmothers but I have to my knowledge made no such bargain.” Thor asked, politely.

“Tsk!” one of them uttered.

“It matters not, you will accept the bargain after all we were the ones to place the lost wards for you to find, or did you really think yourself so lucky?” The three vacuum salesman with shark like grins said.

Thor had a sudden revelation, It was Odin who had sent him to investigate the lair, he said the fates had made him aware of its proximity to Asgard and he had then asked Thor to investigate the threat, so if the Norn’s had indeed placed the wards there for him to find, no wonder they could bypass them with ease, they had studied them as well.

That explained the heavy handed and rude act of sneaking in, to prove that they were the original owners, and had then sold him the wards, the fact he had not accepted the exchange was just a legal nicety in their eyes.

“Before you ask child, of course you may decline the bargain, simply remove the wards from your hall, and return them to us.” Thors head was already nodding, he could deal with his brother, but fate was a fickle thing, and the less attention it had on you the longer you would live.

“However before you do chose, you should hear our price and consider it carefully” they stage whispered the fact that each said just a part of the sentence without break or flaw wasn't something he was finding it easy to get used to.

An eerily cold wind blew in his chambers, the Norn’s long graying hair whipped about, and they stared with sightless white eyes, with no sign of their pupils. When they spoke now, it was in synchronous concert for the first time and it sounded like their voices cried out from across a great distance.

“Three things we ask of you, Thor lord of thunder.”

“The first is for you to travel to Midgard, and strike out at this target, you must do so with all the lightning and thunder at your command and make use of all your maine and might in the attempt, and you must do so soon.”

“The second, thing we ask is to tell none of this task, unless asked.”

“And the third thing, we ask, is to tell you that when the first two tasks are completed, any direct involvement of this matter by you will then become perilous and will certainly lead to your death.”

“Should you fail the first task, know that all of Midgard will fall.”

“Should you fail the second task, know that all of Asgard will fall.”

“Should you choose to directly interfere, know that you will then cripple any chance the worlds have survive Ragnarok.”

The knowledge of what he was to strike was given to him, it looked like a plain tree, in a land called Mississippi, though he could sense it was very large, the only odd bit about it was that it held a form within nature that reminded him of his wards, so he intuited that it was some sort of tree that contains a natural or magical defense.

“Know that you will be admonished for such an action, however given time you will ultimately benefit from this as well.” The Three spinners finished, they seemed tired, and worn through. “A difficult seeing that was, so many threads, too many possibilities” They said again, in their normal disjointed manner.

“Fare thee well, young child, we must return to our tree, we have already been gone too long.” They turned around and shuffled into the wall behind them, which parted like misty water and enveloped them.

Thor considered for a moment but there wasn’t any doubts in the old womens minds which option he would choose.

Option one, enjoy the close company and attention of his brother Loki for the next thousand years.

Option two, go throw a lighting bolt at a tree, then run like a rabbit, and not get involved any further.

It wasn't even a choice, he thought, after all what could go wrong?