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lol Much heart Kirby. Iambic Pentameter is hard to write...

I have a feeling I will write a lot of sonnets...

Tak-Jak's comment when she mentioned a bard, well it made me want to be the next great writer, to maybe one day be The Bard of Prose as Shakespeare was of theatre and poetry.

I'm a firm believer that anything is possible, as long as you try hard enough to do it. I will most certainly be famous for something one day. Of that I am certain. I want to be the total package though, author, poet, artist, singer, actor. I excel at all of these, but I fail at math.

I think all of us want to be the next Shakespeare, and maybe one of us will. I wish I could be the next Bard.

Thanks, I don't think I'm that good though. Most of my novel seems to be word vomit.

Though I think I'm going to be a decent poet.

After what felt like an eternity, I let loose of my restraints and swam as fast as I could to the surface. My head shot out of the water and I coughed, gasping for air to fill my burning chest. I breathed in and out, in and out. The cold air satiated my lungs, and after a few minutes I sighed with relief. The cold harsh wind blasted me in the face and chilled me to the bone, we had escaped those buffoons. Leif and I swam to the opposite shore from whence we first dove in.

After hiking for a bit we made a camp fire. If we did not get dry soon then we would get sick and be in no shape to fight in the coming days. After getting a fire burning high, I rubbed my arms, rocking back and forth. Looking over at Leif, he was rubbing his hands together, and then blowing on them, before placing them back before the pyre.

The fire crackled and popped, slowly drying our soaked and frozen bodies. We could not stay for long, between our absence from Valhalla and the Jotun behind us, time was of the essence. The thought that fluttered betwixt both our minds was whether or not our absence had gone unnoticed. If we were caught, we could be killed for abandonment. If we stayed, we would certainly die at the hands of Surt’s army.

The pyre danced into the pitch black darkness as we gathered our supplies to leave. So few of our things survived our swim - our escapade in the river - most getting washed out by the current. I glanced back over my shoulder and for one fleeting moment it was as though the pyre glared back at me, a face buried within the flames. I believe I recognized that figure in the darkness.

We raced against time, slowly losing by the second, yet always persevering. We never stopped; we slowed down every once in awhile, but never halted. Though our calves and thighs ached, we remained true to our pledge; we would not yield until we returned to Valhalla.

After hours upon hours of running and hiking, sprinting and hurting, we arrived at the edge of the wide open plain where Valhalla lay. Leif and I grinned at each other as we parted ways. Before we set on to return to our homes, we hugged. This man might as well have been my brother. I dragged myself to my home, pushing the door open and pulling my legs one after the other until I reached my bed. I almost fell into Randgrid as I plummeted into the cot.

Lying on the bed, it took me a minute to realize what was going on. I gazed at her through bloodshot and bleary eyes, and said, “What are you doing here?” She just stared at me like I was an idiot, and shook her head, her hair flying back and forth.

“You dreary fool, I’ve been sick with worry. Where the Hel have you been?”
“Leif and I left to visit the Norns. I tried to change my fate, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry I’ve failed you…” I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks.

“You traveled all the way to see the Norns, for me? I… I love you.” She murmured, wrapping her arms around me and laying down beside me in bed.

I gave her a teary, salty kiss before passing out, exhausted from the trip. As I drifted into sleep, I dreamt of her.

I was sitting by the water, my back to a large Weeping Willow tree. In my hands, resting on my knee was a wooden lute. I smiled and plucked a couple notes. The sonnet came to me as easily as breathing or as living. I sighed and began to sing, “From my life I have been taken tonight,
I was so saddened, more than one could know.
‘Til I laid eyes on your beautiful sight,
You are my muse, you have taken my woe.
I have never been in a love like this.
But there is a tear in my heart today.
I long for another person to kiss
Yet it is from my family I’ve strayed.
Should I return to the things left unsaid?
Or stay with this beautiful Valkyrie?
I don’t know what to do now that I’m dead.
My life has been but one large mystery.
Why is this choice so difficult for me?
Alas I have never been that lucky…”
The last ringing notes echoed through my head, and I sat pondering about the meaning of the tune I had just finished. What was I supposed to do?

I awoke slowly, the beautiful song still playing on in my ears as I sat up. I smiled at the battle maiden to my side, and for awhile I just watched her lying in bed asleep. I just lay there next to her, grinning as she slept. She was so beautiful. In that time, lost between future destruction and the peace that had washed over me, I was calm and tranquil. Her serene attitude set me at ease. I think I was in love…

After what seemed like only a minute but was actually more like hours, Randgrid began to stir. She yawned, and never has she looked so adorable. I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Good morning beautiful…” She smiled up at me, and I gave her a kiss.

I lied back down, wrapping my arm around her. What little light was around shone through my window, brightening her smile and setting an ambience of tranquility. I was happy and at peace, totally lost from reality. Then the war drums beats finally reached our ears.

We sat up with a start, instantly dragged back down to the cold harsh truth. We were at war. We had our time, now we needed to prepare for the battles. I climbed out of bed and donned a fresh pair of clothes. As I slid the tunic over my head, I watched her dress. Gods, I would miss her. No matter what happened, I did love her.

I sat down in a chair, hunched over, sliding my boots one at a time over my feet. Lacing the strings, I thought of what Skuld had said. When the time came, I would change my fate. I had to survive, I had to. I couldn’t end this; it was too good to be true. She was like a goddess, her beauty given from some divine grace, and she loved me for who I am. We would be together.

She got ready faster than I did because she had fewer weapons to strap on. It seemed too much, and looking over what I had taken, I took a few of the armaments off. I took only my sword with me today, Laevatinir was more than ample. Surt had to move an entire army, and they wouldn’t run and sprint like we did. I figured that would have them arriving at Vigrid by mid day tomorrow. Today I would practice some, but mostly rest. I needed to regain my lost strength from the previous night’s treacherous journey.

I opened the door for her, like a gentleman, and followed her out. Together we strolled to Valhalla, trying to keep up our spirits in the face of this adversity. If we didn’t, we had only despair to look forward to. Hand in hand we trekked until we reached the doors. I let her go in first, then waited outside for a minute, taking a last look at the creek I used to sit by on lonely rainy days when we were through with our spars and awaiting the night to come. I pushed open the door, stepping through with my head hung.

It felt as though there were a million eyes on me, as though I could feel the heat emanating from each and every one. I made my way to were Leif was sitting, and sank into a chair as fast as possible. The closest empty chair was across from him, and we leaned in together so as to whisper easier to each other. I asked him if he had been reprimanded or even talked to yet. He shook his head no and asked if I had. I returned the gesture and wondered… had they not noticed we were gone? Surely someone had to have; soldiers don’t just disappear for a couple days then return without having their superiors at least speak to them about their absence.

I glanced up at Odin, wondering what he was thinking. Then he got up and left, as did Thor and Frigg. I presumed I knew where Odin was going, to see Mimir and his well. Thor probably left to spend his final day with Sif and his sons, Magni and Modi. Frigg, well who knows what she was up to. Frigg was a very strange goddess, one who possessed the power of prophecy, yet refused to use it. Sure every once in awhile she did, but it was few and far between that Frigg used her powers.

I glanced at Leif and raised an eyebrow. Maybe they were closer than I expected. No, they weren’t the swiftest of creatures, and the Sons of Muspell had a very large army. Maybe Loki, Hel and her army, Fenris and Garm were closer. Maybe they were already in Asgard. I had no idea whether they had crossed Bifrost before it fell or if they were going to enter Asgard some other way.

I began to eat, starved from a lack of food for over a day. If I did not eat soon I would be too weak to even lift my sword. I ate just enough to satiate my stomach, not wanting to over eat. If I had too much then I wouldn’t be up for the practices after breakfast.

I threw a look up to Randgrid a few times, watching her as she moved and spoke. She ate, and I missed being with her already. What would happen when I was on the battlefield, would I be able to concentrate whilst she was out contending against some other foe? Would I be able to focus on my own demons and stay alive? I could only hope. If not, I may fall well before my time.

As I sat there, I remembered the dream. The sonnet played over and over again throughout the morning, and I know what it was about. I had to choose between my Valkyrie and my family. I finished my breakfast and stepped outside, walking back down to my little spot by the creek, underneath the tree. I softly sang, letting the words flow as if from the very stream before me, “This love I have never spoke of before
A moment fleeting, it has passed me by
Life is a soliloquy, evermore
With a heavy heart and a heavy sigh
Death was but an alluring thought 'til now
A guilt ridden last chance escape method
A way for me to skip the why and how
To end all pain from a wound that has bled
The sadness from my heart and from my soul
I have shared my thoughts and feelings alone
Surrounded by people, not in the whole
The flame from my life's candle has been blown
Life for me has been a soliloquy
In this darkness I am finally free..”

Oh, how I longed to be free.

lol Kirby, Babbling = more words. It may suck now, but I'm not editing or fixing anything until after the contest is over...

Thor and Odin raced forward together, Thor in his chariot pulled by his goats Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjotr, and Odin on his might eight legged steed Sleipnir. About mid way through the plain the two split, father and son no longer, parting ways for what could be eternity. Thor stepped off his chariot, the mighty hammer Mjollnir hanging from his side. His thick magic belt Megingjord was tight around his waist.

Jormungandr slithered towards him, fangs dripping around him, creating a thick miasma. He raised back, anger brimming to his very eyes, then struck down, jaws wide. Thor caught that snake in his hands which were covered with his special iron gauntlets, throwing it backwards.

Thor pulled out his hammer and ran forwards, having to duck under the Midgard Serpent’s tail or else it could have very well broken most every bone in his body. Thor sprinted forward, throwing the hammer at Jormungandr’s head, but the writhing serpent twisted and turned out of the way. Magically, Mjollnir returned to Thor’s right hand, and he gripped it tightly, his anger swelling to immeasurable degrees now. Thor has always had a very short temper. Thor jumped onto the back of the Midgard Serpent, running up its spine, hoping to deliver a death blow to the beast’s head.

The serpent rolled over, throwing the thunder god from its back. Thor landed on his feet and rolled forward. Back on his feet, the thunder god spun around, using the extra momentum to gain power in his throw. The hammer came within inches of the Midgard Serpent’s jaw, but at the last minute, the beast reared his head and it passed underneath him.

Thor’s anger was beginning to get out of control, even for him. He was almost shaking with rage, his read hair looking as though it was on fire. Mjollnir was back in his hand, and as he raced towards the mighty beast, Jormungandr let his tail flail wildly, this time connecting with Thor’s chest. At first the thunder god was thrown backwards, but he caught his feet, blocking the tail with that awesome hammer of his.

He grabbed the serpent’s tail and spun him around, knocking out an entire company of giants and elves alike. They were out of commission, and they weren’t going anywhere. Thor let the serpent fly, landing cruelly at an odd angle. The thunder god wrapped his massive arms around the stout neck of the serpent and delivered a sick barrage of punches to the head of Jormungandr. The serpent twisted and wriggled out of control, and it was all Thor could do to hold on.

Thor raised his grand hammer ready to deal the killing blow, but at the last second the Midgard Serpent slipped out of his grip. Jormungandr whipped him in the back with his tail, and Thor flew through the air into some of the last archers, his immense and muscular body crushing bones of those he fell on. He got up, placing his hand on some of their skulls for leverage, crushing their skulls as he pushed himself up.

Thor stood there, shaking with rage as the Midgard Serpent dashed towards him. He just stood there, unmoving. Right before the jaws were to enclose around him, he grabbed the lower jaw in his right hand, upper with his left. He then proceeded to rip the jaws apart, but that damned tail snapped around before he could. He let go of the jaws to grab the tail, turning around and flipping it over his shoulder. Jormungandr crashed into the ground, breaking several of the bones that made up its enormous skeleton. The bones that had broken protruded from the skin, leaving little traces of bright white shards. Blood trickled from these wounds, painting the serpent a myriad of color.

The serpent hissed, not really capable of making other sounds. It writhed in obvious pain, spewing poison every which way. Giants, dwarves, elves, even an Einheri or two were not safe from its wrath. They burned and screamed, the poison eating away at their skin. This death was not an easy or even remotely humane one. They clawed at their own flesh in a futile attempt to rip the poison off their skin.

Thor managed to evade the venom, crushing the tail of this serpent in his hands… He kept a loose grip on the beast, for it was constantly trying to wriggle away. He saw a contraption that the enemy army had built, a bunch of spears in the ground so that anything that happened to run into them would be impaled. The thunder god grinned, pirouetting with a much more firm grip then previously, swinging the serpent into the spears, impaling Jormungandr all throughout his left side.

Magni and Modi watched on impressed with their father’s talent and brute strength. The Midgard Serpent twisted, breaking the spears off so that only the heads and a small piece of the staff were still stuck in the beast. Thor gripped Mjollnir again, ready to end this fight. Even in the immense pain it had to have been in, Jormungandr managed to slip out of his range every time he hefted the almighty hammer. Each blow that missed created a crater where the earth itself cracked under the power and force.

As the serpent twisted back, fangs bared, ready to strike, Thor slid Mjollnir into his tunic, using its magical powers to shrink the hammer’s size. The snake pulled back, as an adder or viper would before delivering a killing bite, and stared intently at the thunder god. It spewed its venomous spit, tongue flickering. And then, almost too fast for the eye to see, Jormungandr shot forward, mouth wide, ready to devour Thor. Thor simply waited, poised and ready. His hand shot forth almost as fast as the Midgard Serpent had struck, gripping the beast’s neck. Thor pulled Jormungandr close, eye to eye, slipping his hand in his tunic to pull out his hammer. As soon as it was in his hand, Mjollnir returned to its full size, and Thor prepared the death stroke. As the thunder god raised his massive hammer, Jormungandr spit the poison on him, simultaneously to the mace crushing the skull of the most feared serpent besides the dragon Nidhogg.

Jormungandr writhed in its death throes, and Thor stumbled back, the poison slowly taking its toll on the most physically powerful god on the battlefield. Prophecy foretold that they would kill each other, and in but nine steps the thunder god would fall. He had already stumbled two steps, and his sons Magni and Modi raced over to him. Another step and they were almost at his side. One more step, four total now. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. As Thor went to take his last step, woozy and very lightheaded, his left foot was planted, his right reaching out to take his final step in this life. His foot connected with the ground, but it buckled under him, and he collapsed to the ground, turning in mid air so that he landed on his back. His son Magni slid under him, catching his father’s head in his lap. With his last dying breath, he gave them both his most cherished possessions, the gloves; Mjollnir; his goats, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjotr; the chariot; and his belt Megingjord. They were to share these items, and to use them to take care of his wife and their mother, Sif.

They openly wept, setting his body in the chariot and letting the goats carry his body off this battlefield and back to Thor’s wife, Sif, who though not present was mourning her husband’s demise. She knew the prophecy; they all did. Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjotr carried their master’s body one last time, taking him all the way back to Bilskirnir, Thor’s hall in the kingdom of Thrudheim, where Sif sat expectantly awaiting his cadaver.




I shook with fury as I saw Thor fall; even though I knew it was going to happen. I ached, physically beginning to wear down. I had sustained several injuries, a mace that had connected here, a sword that smashed into my armor there, and a couple flails – balls and chains – that had hit so hard they cracked my gauntlets. My forearm hurt and I swore my arm was broken, but I could still move it some without being in too much pain.

I was hunched over, my left arm gripping my right forearm where the flail has damaged it. My right arm loosely held Laevatinir, just barely in my hand. The leather from the straps holding the shield to my left arm were beginning to burn, but I pushed that thought aside for now. I swiveled my wrist, testing my ability to hold my sword up. If I couldn’t swing this thing, I might as well take a dagger from one of my many sheaths and plunge it into my chest, for I would not be worth a damn if I could not wield my sword.

The more I wiggled and stretched my arm, the easier it became to hold it up. A few minutes later and I could swing almost as strong as I had before. In time the strength would return, for now I would use my bow for it called for less physical demands. Leif was off to my right with a few elves who were fighting with him against Sons of Muspell.

I slid my sword back in his sheath, and then notched an arrow, letting it fly. The arrow pierced straight through the back, popping out in the center of the giant’s chest. Another volley let fly from my bow, almost every arrow striking its target. Leif himself had to jump out of the way from one of the arrows or it would have leveled him. He glared angrily up at me and all I could do was laugh at him.

An elf snuck up behind me, and I dropped my bow, drawing my sword from the sheath with my right hand. I twirled it up; gripping both hands around the hilt and plunged it into the stomach as the now leaping elf fell, the sword going through the absence between my arm and my side. He slowly down the blade, now so deep that traces of stomach acid could be found on the ground amidst all the blood and intestines that have spilled out from the gaping hole in his abdomen.

I ripped the sword from inside of him, wiping the blade with a piece of cloth from a previous assailant who no longer had use for it. I glanced over at Leif again and he grinned shaking his head. I scanned the battlefield, looking for Randgrid. I spotted her, somehow still atop the horse she so anxiously clung. I was amazed that the horse hadn’t died or even been struck by so much as a single arrow. She hefted a slimmer sword than I did, but she wielded it with the finely honed skill accustomed to a Valkyrie.

I watched as Surt and Frey began to fight, testing each other at first. Then I glanced at Odin and Fenris, Heimdall and Loki, Tyr and Garm… all of these locked in mortal combat until one or neither of them could walk away.

I wondered what was going on, who was going to win. All these fights were happening at the same time; Thor, who could have taken on Fenris and ripped him in two, had fallen whilst Odin was fighting. Odin couldn’t last very long, the beast was just too much to handle, and Odin had grown older in all these years. Idunn’s apples could only keep him so young, and those times when Idunn and her apples had been stolen, well he had aged considerably in those times. He was still an ample fighter, more than capable of taking on most creatures, but this was Fenris.

Randgrid, I promised you I would survive, and I will control my fate. I love you. I curse thee stars.

Odin looked back as Thor rode towards Jormungandr, readying his spear Gungnir to take on the Fenris wolf. Sleipnir reared, neighing as they raced forward all of a sudden, leveling his mighty spear straight at the heart of the Fenris wolf. I wondered why it was that they fought so, knowing that they were destined to die. Maybe they believed as I did, that they could change their fates. But, wouldn’t the Norns have already seen that, and know which path you would take no matter what choice you were faced with? It was mind numbing and mind boggling to think about that I changed the mental subject so as to not wonder about that which would only eventually drive me insane, that is if these giants didn’t kill me first.

Odin dismounted, swinging his spear around and pointing it at Fenris, who raced towards him. He leaned back, his golden armor shining in the light, and threw the spear at the Fenris wolf. The blade pierced his side, and in an instant Odin was there, ripping it out as he placed his hand on it, leaping high into the air as the spear was pulled from the flesh.

Fenris looked up; jaws wide open, expectantly awaiting the Val Father to fall into his mouth. Odin grasped the spear in one hand, blade pointed up as he reached the climax of his leap. Staring intently down, he twirled the spear in his right hand, catching it with his left, blade now pointed down. The All Father began his descent, readying the blade. As he neared the immense and massive jaws, he turned the spear Gungnir vertical once more, thrusting it into the mouth of the huge wolf. The blade went straight up and through, Odin landing on the bottom jaw, carrying the momentum as he squatted down and leapt up and over the top jaw, landing on the snout. Odin gripped the shaft of the spear and yanked it up and through the hole the blade had made.

Fenris let out a mighty howl of pain, one so fierce and harsh that it echoed through the plain and into the hearts of all the men and women who were present. The wound wasn’t too horribly wide, maybe only a couple inches in every direction. Though it was enough to inflict serious pain, and to bleed profusely. Blood poured from his mouth and even up through the hole, spilling over the nose if the hole didn’t drain fast enough to prevent the fluids backing up. Standing a top the wolf, Odin twirled his spear, preparing to drive the blade through the beast’s brain before he could do more damage to Odin’s people than he already did. Fenris shook violently, and Odin had to leap off to avoid possibly falling into the very jaws of the beast he just tried to kill.

Sprinting forward, Odin stabbed Fenris in the stomach, but he was only so high, and the wolf so tall, that the blade could reach only but so far. The All Father even jumped up, hoping to drive the blade in farther, but to no avail, the blade was only a few inches in. So instead, he planted his left foot, leaning back with both hands on the shaft of the spear, then drove himself forward with all his might, ripping a gash into the belly of the beast. Odin dashed out from underneath the canine, pieces of cut up entrails dropping from the belly and onto the ground. The last thing he wanted was to die with sullied armor from the likes of these vermin. Maybe Surt or Jormungandr, something truly fearsome. In fact, he glanced over at his awesome son, Thor, as he hefted the Midgard Serpent over his shoulder and then vertically slamming it onto the ground. Odin grinned; Thor had always done him right, never disgracing the family name… Well there was that one time he had to pretend to be a female giantess on her wedding day, but that was only because Mjollnir was stolen. When he got his hammer back, Thor killed damn near everyone at that wedding festival. But still it’s kind of strange that he dressed up as a bride.

Back to more pressing matters, Odin turned in a counter clockwise direction, spinning Gungnir with his left hand, then passing it behind his back as he completed his cycle. The spinning spear stopped violently, tip pointed at an angle towards the ground. He glared up at the wolf, who lowered his head and dropped his jaw, wanting to devour everything in sight.

Odin glared back, raising Gungnir and dashing forward. If one were to blink, for just one fleeting moment, they would have missed this. Faster than Thor’s lightning, Odin slammed the tip of the spear into Fenris’s left cheek inside his mouth, lodging the other side into the right cheek. This kept him preoccupied, desperately trying to snap the spear in half or find some other way of taking it out without shoving it through his skin. While Fenris’s tongue darted back and forth, Odin stepped on the beast’s lower jaw and raised both hands to the roof of his upper mouth, trying to forcibly rip the wolf’s head in half.

The sharp teeth pierced through the Val Father’s hand, blood pouring from the wounds. It speckled his face as if a waterfall of crimson lay above him, water drops of his own life force sprinkling down. He winced, the pain almost unbearable, excruciating. Odin could see the sides of the wolf’s jaws beginning to tear apart at the middle from the force he applied, pressing up with all his might, despite the fact that his hands were punctured. If he tried any harder, even his mighty boots wouldn’t be able to withstand the pressure and would succumb to the vicious canines of the massive abomination.

And just like that, the force that Odin could no longer fight off, the colossal power of the brute as his jaws closed down and around the greatest of gods. There came a cry, a piercing and echoing shout from one Valkyrie or another. I wasn’t quite sure which, for all together we turned to watch. A few skirmishes were still being fought out, too busy with their simple minded battles to witness the tragedy that had just befallen our army. But wait, what was that.

Fenris’s stomach heaved, as though something was pressing against its sides. Gungnir glinted in the light as it flew through the walls of flesh. It created a large enough hole for Odin to slip his hands through, grasping either side with his gauntlets. Flexing his muscles, the Val Father yanked back, tearing away at the belly of the beast. Intestines poured to the ground even more so then the last wound inflicted to this region of the wolf.

Odin rolled out from the gaping hole, landing kneeled, his right knee touching the ground, his left foot on the ground, at a ninety degree angle to the dirt. His head was bowed, and he caught his spear in his right hand before it touched the ground.

Even from my elevated and very far off distance, I could see the blood seeping through his boots and gauntlets. He tried to keep from wincing, to maintain a straight face, untroubled with any obvious signs of pain or weakness. Maybe it fooled some, but those of us who had spent any time with him, especially those of us who knew him or had relatives who knew him when he hung from the branches of the World Tree, Yggdrasil, for nine days, pierced in the side by his very own spear, Gungnir. In return her learned and gained the knowledge of the runes, but it was with a heavy price.

I looked away, not capable of keeping my pain hidden. The Einharjar, the elves, the Valkyries; we all knew what was going to happen. My eyes wandered to Vidar, the crestfallen son of the Val Father. He was fighting tooth and nail to get through the hordes of enemies and save his father, Odin. He was wearing the boots his mother Grid made for him, which were made from all the collective bits of scraps of shoe leather ever thrown out. These shoes were so strong, that even Fenris’s teeth could not puncture them. It was with these boots that he would slaughter his father’s killer.

I finally glanced back, watching as Fenris and Odin dealt each other deathly blows. Odin landed a massive punch here, Fenris connecting with a vicious head butt there. Back and forth they went, time and time again dragging themselves to their feet. The God of the Hanged, as he was called for his self sacrifice from the Yggdrasil Tree, stood shakily, holding himself up with his spear. His only remaining eye glared intensely at his foe; a stare so fierce that it felt as though he could shake the very foundation this land stood on, felling it and all the other eight worlds.

Odin shook his head, gripping his spear in his bloody right hand, leaning back slightly as he aimed for the beast’s immense head. Maybe a sharp and pointy spear to the brain could stop the insatiable hunger that possessed the wolf. With careful and precise targeting skills, the Val Father released the spear, collapsing as his right arm flew forward, Gungnir slightly askew from his proposed flight plan.

Odin fell to the ground, rolling a couple times before stopping at the foot of a large rock. He tried to rise up, but couldn’t, crumpling back into the dirt. Fenris turned to dodge the spear, but the wolf could not move fast enough. The b*****d son of Loki took the spear in his side and collapsed as well. It was a travesty to watch, something so unbearable that it made some of even the most brave hearted of men turn and shy away, too devastated to view anymore. Those of us who remained, who dared to watch, stood in horror, the battle almost completely coming to a halt.

Odin glanced over at his son Thor, who was taking his last steps. One by one, Thor stumbled to his death. He shook his head, not wanting to see any of his children die. It had been hard enough after Baldur died, now this? No, he turned his head. But damn it, he knew he must. The Val Father stared back, as the thunder god took his last step, his leg falling out from underneath him. Thor fell, Mjollnir lying at his side, never to be hefted by him again. Odin pushed himself up, wincing from the pains in his hands and feet, the gaping holes from the teeth of the monstrous wolf.

Once again on his bleeding feet, Odin rushed forth one last time, grasping the spear and yanking it out before sliding under the beast, slicing the back of the front two legs with the tip of Gungnir. Fenris howled out in pain, trying to step forward on the sliced tendons but only falling over on his front two feet. Odin limped to the mouth of the beast as Fenris stared wild eyed back at him; face still planted on the ground. Fenris rose up, flinching from the multiple, various, and the myriad of wounds and afflictions. The wolf bared his fangs, glowering at the Val Father.

In a split second, they both let loose fierce battle cries, readying to attack each other. Odin hefted Gungnir and ran forward, ready to slay the beast once and for all. Fenris widened his jaws, and before Odin could deal the deadly and final blow, the wolf devoured the God of the Hanged, and this time, Odin wouldn’t escape.

I turned away, tears speckling my cheek. Leif and Randgrid were at my side now, together we fought off the few that dared to attack during this epic display of valiant courage.

In those last moments, it was as though blood rained from the sky, and Leif, Randgrid and I looked back and forth between us. What could we do? The father of the Æsir had fallen, and there was nothing left for us to do but wait until we died.

I WILL NOT FALL!