A Saga Of Thor


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The Nordic sagas were called kennings and were written in a very distinctive form. I do not have that wonderful ability to reduce words to a basic form, so I'll have to tell this one in basic story form. An opening paragraph of one of tales began much like this, but in the kenning was drastically different.

Sunni's break.......upon mountainous plane

found warrior alone....... bulging muscles by his side

In preparation for clanging noise

of steel and wood wrought with pain

As dawn broke through the pitch black sky, flaming streaks of yellow, orange and red pierced the darkened mountain tops like spears thrown from the strongest arm. Silhouetted by the streaming colors of dawn, a fierce and mighty warrior stood facing the impending light, hammer held tightly in one hand, reins to his stallion in the other.

Raising Mölnir to the heavens, Thor called upon the all-Father to grant him victory in the coming clash with the Thurs, the immovable objects pushing hard against the unstoppable forces of the Chosen One. He turned and as he thrust himself upward onto the powerful steed cried aloud "Til Valhalla!" and turned towards the approaching doom of his Spirit.

Racing forward, with heels dug deep into the shanks of his well muscled charge and hammer held high, Thor knew that failure was not an option as all of humanity's future was at stake. The Æsir and Vanir were not unfamiliar with this moment in time as it had repeated itself many times throughout the history of mankind. Only the earthly folk of Midgaard were uncertain, only the vitki's knew the All-Father's wishes, only Thor was willing to take such a risk.

This would be a monumental fight between the immortal and mortal, the moral and ethical versus those of unscrupulous mindset. This would be the final conflict with the victor taking all, leaving nothing to the loser. Thor's heels dug deeper and deeper into the sides of his now lathered great beast, leaving a trail of dust and visible breath streaming from mouths and nostrils of both living beings. The wild eyes of the horse were expressions of angry annoyance yet paled compared to the manifested steel gray darts, focused, looking ahead just inches above the mane.

As Thor raced over the final knoll between him and his adversaries he noticed, finally, that he was not alone in his charge into oblivion. To his left rode the strangers from many lands and kingdoms. To his right, upon the backs of myriad of mighty beasts, rode the Æsir of myth and reality, fable and Truth. Behind them all was a cloud of rust colored dust mixed with the vast vapors of expelled breath creating a wall of impenetrable murk. Above them, Hügin and Mügin the great ravens of Äsgaard, flew ever forward directing the rushing horde towards their inevitable fate.

From the darkness in front of them, as Sunni had not yet graced the lands there, rose enormous shadows of what surely must be the foothills to the mountainous landscape behind them. Yet, this was not possible as lands do not move nor do they raise huge clubs, swords and bows when one approaches. A great noise erupted from the Thurs as they prepared to meet the enemy of eons of diminished goodwill, mistrust and warring with the vain and often presumptuous Æsir. They began pounding giant fist upon giant chest and armor, clanging swords against bronzed shields of such enormity that entire villages of humans had been known to use them for roofs on their longhouses. The noise was of such great magnitude that it was almost unbearable in the ears of those who would dare to conflict with them.

The gaze of a thousand angry eyes looked down from such a great height that the approaching horde looked as if they were mere newborn babes in size compared to the Hu-man mother. One giant looked to the next as uncontrollable laughter broke the ranks of the enormous warriors until finally such a clamor came forth that none were able to stand, falling to the ground as if fell by ax to tree trunk. Thor took note of this unexpected benefit and motioned for the gods to flank right while his Midgaard comrades broke to the left as he kept a course directly ahead.

Thor jabbed his heels as hard and deep as he could into the flanks of his charging steed making it leap skyward over the first line of the now reclining Thurs. He swung Mölnir at the full extension of his arm connecting with a helmeted giant, effectively removing his head from his neck and then dove off his horse onto another Thurs, and then another and another dropping each one into Hel's clutches as he did. Instantaneously the Thurs recovered from their stupor of hilarity as nothing was humorous about watching comrades die needlessly. They sprung to their feet swinging wildly with sword, ax and spear missing Thor with each stroke, thrust and parry but making lethal contact with one another. Once again it seemed the All-Father's protective presence prevented harm from felling his most endeared son.

As the hordes of gods and Hu-man warriors took to task the monumental effort of battling the giants, Thor remained deliberate and vigilant in his fight against the mighty giants felling one after the other with each swing of his powerful hammer. Covered in the bright red cloak of death and drenched in his own sweat he fought ever forward through the mass until at last not one giant was left standing. Only the murmuring whimpers of those not yet replete to Death's call could be heard over the stillness that befell this place of doom.

As the now quieted air filled his ever grasping nostrils he looked for the members of his unknown army to congratulate them for their aide in his fight, yet there was not a single one standing. 'How could this be?' Thor queried his throbbing mind. 'Can it be that even the Æsir fell to the Vanir's most deadly warriors? All of them?'

He then began to look under and behind the mountainous forms of dead and dying giants for his compatriots, yet he could not find a single one. He called for his stallion which came trotting from a distant hill to his side and swung himself into the saddle. He rode slowly through the carnage still seeking any evidence of his fallen comrades yet found not one weapon or piece of armor to indicate they had indeed been so bravely at his side. He took a long drink of cold water from the skin-bag that hung from the saddle-horn and spat a final gulp onto the ground, offering it to the gods as a gift of thanks for their unwavering dedication to his cause of righteousness.

At last, the Vanir no longer had their terrible army of immovable warriors, which no person of Midgaard had ever defeated in a battle of armies or individual combat. As he sat upon his horse on a slight rise overlooking the battlefield, he gazed in wonder as the number of dead giants seemed to diminish before his very eyes. Each blink had the effect of removing ten, then fifty then a hundred dead bodies from the blood soaked ground until he stared down at a flowing meadow of grassy beauty waving in the morning breeze.

"Thor! Thor!" came the whisper of Loki's raspy voice. "Awaken to this new day Thor!"

Thor opened his eyes to see that, incredibly, he was in his own bed with skins heaped upon the floor and a disheveled woolen blanket beneath him.

"Did you enjoy the wonderful visions of Greatness I imposed upon your sleeping mind?" Loki spoke now in elevated tones. "How could you dare be angry with my contrived vision as you once again were victorious?"

"Loki, you are most assuredly the most devilish beast in all of Äsgaard!" Thor mumbled as he sat up. "Now, remove yourself from my presence before I show you how terrible Mölnir's blow can be upon your head!"

Loki turned to the door of Thor's sleeping quarters as if to take his command serious but then, turned back around and winked at Thor saying "But you should know that Odhinn himself ordered me to fill your weary mind with a saga portraying such great warrior's feats!"

"You lie you delirious little twerp!" Thor yelled back at Loki and charged towards him, instantaneously slamming into the thick wooden door as Loki slammed it shut just in time to save himself from the mighty warrior's grasp. "My father has no call for such foolish things nor do I have patience to listen to any more of your incessant ramblings. Now be gone with you or I shall take my 'weary mind's' leave and kill you forthwith!"

Thor made his way through the great halls of his castle Bilskirnir and made his way to his father's castle of Glitnir. He sat across the huge feasting table which had been set with horns overflowing with mead, many roasted meats and fresh vegetables for Odhinn's breakfast. Without saying much, Thor reached for a horn and raised it to his father's honor as was tradition, but then broke protocol by turning it over, spilling out it's contents onto the stoney floor as a show of defiance.

"What purpose could there possibly be for allowing Loki into my slumber and dreams Father?" he asked in a somber, yet purely annoyed tone. "What lesson or instruction could be gained through such despicable means that you could not have simply asked me for in person?"

"Once again you dishonor my hall, my son, by your show of disrespect and display of arrogance! Who are you, beside the progeny of my loins, that you should question ME?" Odhinn spat pieces of food as he spoke. "Besides only a deceiver such as Loki himself would tell you such things of pure fantasy!"

"Under threat of great bodily harm I forced him to tell me truthfully who had commanded him so and I..."...

....bzz, bzz, bzz, bzz, bzz.....*...*... Huh? Wha...?

As I looked at the alarm clock, I could see it had been going off for more than half an hour, making me extremely late in preparing for my day. I sprung out of bed with such a clatter, that shower didn't matter, but coffee sure as Hjela did!

I have to admit that it usually goes like that when dreaming a dream that only comes along once in very great while. I'm sure that everyone has had a dream from which they awoke extremely disoriented and wishing it would go on and on. This dream was extrapolated from my note book of dreams which I've carried around for nearly 30 years until it's pages are worn and tattered, dog-eared and smudged, but filled with several hundred of the most pertinent and awe inspiring mental visualizations while sleeping.

Now I would think that even the most uninitiated into the area of dream interpretations could pull a variety of "meanings" out of such a dream. This particular one came to my consciousness while in the midst of studying for my finals at Gambla Uppsala in the homelands of Sweden. It's really no mystery why such a dream would come to me at that particular time, but every time I read it, I pull yet another definition of Self from it.

For me personally, that is the number one reason to keep a journal of your most intense dreams. Not only to remember the visceral nature of such incredible workings of the mind, but for reinvestigation of Self and to continuously ponder aspects of our minds that answer so many other psychological dilemma we face. Something I suppose I needed to do for Self today, being faced with some difficult choices.

Hope you enjoyed,

Blessings of Peace,

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