Riddles and Ragnarök

 

E. Florian Gludovacz

 

 

 

The large grey coupe swept up like the wind. Sleek, powerful, yet indefinably large at the same time. It shimmered between four and eight wide tyres on chrome rims. The hood ornament was a chrome SL set at a rakish angle. The license plate read 31PN1R.

The driver emerged, wrapped in a dark cloak against the cold, setting supple boots onto the icy street. Though it was late winter twilight, he wore dark glasses. He carried a cane, twirling it as he walked. The imposing figure was of indeterminate age, and a white mane of hair surrounded his lean face. Two small, shaggy dogs jumped out after him.

His gaze lingered briefly on a Ram 3500 truck parked across the street before turning to enter the glass skyscraper that mirrored clouds and sky. He pushed open heavy glass double doors. He padded softly through the cavernous lobby, accompanied by the treble taps of his dogs’ paws as they hurried along beside him.

 The receptionist sat at a rainbow-colored desk. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said. “You are here for the meeting?”

“Yes.” The man’s voice was low and deep and held hints of deep woods and rich rhyme.

“Mr. Wotan?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the elevator over there.” The receptionist gestured to his left. “It will take you straight to the top floor.”

“My son’s party has already arrived I believe?”

“Mr. Donar Odinson’s party? Yes, they’re here.”

“Good. As expected.”

Wotan’s dogs sat to either side of him on the long ride up. The elevator rose smoothly, its lighting moving from deep red through orange, yellow, green, and blue, ending with a brilliant violet as the doors opened. Intense light shone on a dwarf in a brown tunic looking sideways at him.  Odin’s dogs growled and bared their teeth, growing more wolf-like.

“Freki! Geri! Behave yourselves.”

They returned to their unimposing scruffiness.

“My lord Odin,” the dwarf said with a dramatic bow. “If you would step this way, everyone is awaiting you.”

The corridor was a sleek chrome and glass twenty-first century space. They entered a room with floor to ceiling windows that held no glass.  Clouds swept by. Far below lay the city, it’s lights tiny dots winking as twilight grew into night.

Donar Odinson, or rather, Thor, paced before the windows, occasionally flinging an arm out to distant storm clouds and evoking thunderous rumbles that faintly shook the building.  He was flanked by two of his attendants in the guise of young humans. As Odin entered, he strode over and greeted his father with a powerful bear hug.

“I see you brought Thjalfi and Röskva,” said Odin. “Have our hosts treated you well?”

“As well as you can expect from jötnar.”

The dwarf cleared his throat. “I’m sure your hosts are eager to meet you. If you would be so good as to follow me?” He led the way across the room and pushed open double doors into an expansive boardroom.

But when Odin’s party stepped over the threshold they found themselves on a vast plain stretching to the horizon in every direction, a mournful wind ruffling brown grasses.

“The Fields of Vigrid!” Thor exclaimed.

The dwarf stopped and spun around. The air swam like a mirage and in the place of the dwarf stood a slim, black-clad figure. “Welcome to the playing field, ” he said, deference gone. “Long time, no see, Odin, Thor!

Thor growled. “Loki. You’ve escaped your confinement. By one reading of the prophecy that means Ragnarök has begun.”

“That is but one line in the riddle of Ragnorak,” said Odin. “A single swallow does not make a Spring, and one escaped godling does not make the end of time.”

“Let’s test that idea right now!” Loki said. “Meet the rest of your hosts, or rather, my host which will soon send you to your rest.” He snapped his fingers.

Invisibility dropped away to reveal his army of jötnar, dwarves, giants, and beasts, armaments bristling like a forest of thorns. The trickster’s gaze swept over them.

“Seems we outnumber you. And then, of course, there is this.” He snapped his fingers again and giants stepped aside to reveal farther back a huge wolf, chained to a rock. A deep reverberating growl emanated from him and baleful fiery eyes glared at Odin.

Freki’s and Geri’s hackles rose and their forms flowed out into that of huge wolves.

“I think you remember my dear son Fenrir?  The one who will devour you at Ragnarok?”  Loki stared daggers  at Odin.

Odin took out a handful of Freki’s and Geri’s biscuits.  He breathed on them, kneaded and molded them, and held up a shape of himself.  He tossed it to Fenrir, who caught it and quickly crunched it.  Loki stared.

Odin smiled.  “So, is the end of the world what you really want?”

“What do you think I want? A Japanese tea ceremony? Prepare to die!”

Odin sighed and twirled his cane. It blurred and lengthened. And Loki froze, the fabled spear Gungnir at his throat.

“Enough theatrics! You know one battle can’t call down Ragnarök. The prophecy has to play out in all its aspects. Now, let’s talk about why you really wanted this meeting.” The spear shrank down into a cane again.  The All-father removed his sunglasses. His left eye held a raven-black glint. The right eye socket was a puckered scar.

The trickster’s dark eyes glared back at Odin for a moment. He drew a deep breath, and then let out a huge sigh. “You smarmy know-it-all!” He turned to the jötnar and waved his hand. “Back off — for now.”

Odin looked narrowly at Loki. “We’ve danced around Ragnarök for a long time.  And now you’ve escaped your bindings and the serpent’s venom.”

“That was a monstrously vicious punishment you set me.”

“I was not there when the other gods captured you. They were the ones that meted out your punishment. And what did you expect after causing Baldr’s death? A party?”

“That was Hödr, not me.”

Odin held up a hand to stop him. “Do you forget I know almost everything that happens as it happens?”

Loki look at the ground and shrugged. “So why don’t you just kill me then?”

“Because even I can’t escape fate. What has been prophesied will come to pass, sooner or later. In one form. Or another.”

“But don’t you see it’s time? The world is sad and broken. Yggdrasil is wilting and Jörmungandr is old and tired. Look at what humans have wrought — summers of killing heat, seas rising on cities, air foul, forests burning. Ragnarök will end this pitiful state and the world can be reborn! Our offspring will give rise to a better world!”

“It isn’t a fresh new world you want. You want chaos and destruction.”

“And order has been so very wonderful?”

“You can argue, lie, and mislead. Plead, rave, and threaten. We can assemble on the Fields of Vigrid. But Ragnarök will not commence until the Gjallarhorn is sounded. That is the power and the curse of fate.”

From midair Loki snatched a massive horn and held it high. “And here it is.”

Odin looked at the horn through half-closed eyes. “A 3-d printed facsimile. Well done.”

“Why do you have to know so Much?” Loki raised the horn higher and smashed it to the ground. It shattered into glittering dust and he coughed.

“It would do you no good anyway.  Only Heimdall can sound the Gjallerhorn.”

Loki walked in circles, arms straight, fists clenched, steaming. He stopped.

“I challenge you to a contest. The victor wins the Gjallarhorn, and Heimdall’s services.”

 “Why would I do that? I already possess the horn. And Heimdall is fated to mortally wound you. That would certainly count as one of his services.”

Loki’s pale complexion grew paler for a moment.

“And strenuously seeking your own death — you might want to think about why you do that,” Odin added.

Loki waved the words aside. “I’ll swear to a century of peace. A hundred years without my interference! A hundred years for the world to continue and perhaps sort itself out. A century for those humans you champion to mend their ways.”

“A millennium.”

Loki huffed, then shrugged. “Agreed. Three contests — skill, mind, and strength.”

“Accepted. One party proposes the contest, the other sets the rules.”

“Done!” cried Loki.

“Fighting skills!” Thor called out.

“Very well,” Loki agreed hastily. “And since you propose the contest, I set the rules. We’ll have a boxing match. Mark out a ring, oh, over there.”  He pointed casually to a flattened, grassless area.

Thor frowned at him and strode over to survey the ground.  A huge circle of earth settled lower beneath him and salty water began welling up.  Through the surface of the water came just the very tip of a huge serpent’s snout, scales glistening, releasing a poisonous green venom that enveloped Thor.  He staggered back nine steps before bringing Mjolnir smashing down upon the serpent.  The earth twisted and shook, and the scaly snout disappeared, taking the water with it. 

Thor strode towards Loki but Odin held him back. Thor’s attendants washed the poison off his skin, and applied a salve.

“Not my fault,” Loki whispered. “The Midgard Serpent simply chose to weigh in.”

“As fate would fortunately have it,” said Odin.

Loki frowned and looked at Odin sideways, then turned to his jötnar. “Mark out a ring.  Bring bandages and gloves!”

They sprang to his orders. Thor’s attendants took the heavy gloves and bandages.

“You are oddly well-prepared for this match,” Thor said, voice still rough from poison, but he stripped to the waist and held out his hands. The girl wrapped his knuckles with the bandages and the boy pulled the gloves on and tied them.

A smile slid sideways across Loki’s face. “Your opponent will be Kári.” He waved a jötunn forward.

Kári was a head taller than Thor, but not particularly imposing. He nodded toward Thor and hit his gloves together.

“The match lasts until one fighter knocks the other out. Punches only. No hitting below the waist or to the back of the head. No wrestling, holding, or kicking. I’ll referee. Odin will judge.”

Thor stepped into the ring and rolled his prodigious shoulders. He punched the air a few times, checked the gloves, and nodded.

The fighters touched gloves, and assumed fighting stances.

“Begin!” Loki yelled.

 Thor’s fists blurred with speed, yet the jötunn side-stepped every punch and responded with taps to Thor’s jaw.

“This doesn’t look right,” Thjalfi whispered.

“Our lord cannot bring his strength to bear,” the girl said.

“Perhaps he is holding back.”

Her eyes went dark, but she did not reply.

Odin looked closely at Kári. Brother to Hlér and Logi — Sea and Fire. Kári was Wind! No wonder Thor couldn’t land a punch. Neither of them could win this contest. What was Loki’s game?

The fight went on until, frustrated, Thor roared and moved to tackle Kári. A pleased smile crossed Kari’s face, and instead of ducking out of the way, he held still and allowed Thor to grab him, lift him high, and throw him out of the ring. Thor stood seething and glaring.

“Alas,” said Loki, a huge smile lighting his face. “I think picking your opponent up and throwing them out of the ring counts as breaking the rules?” He blinked at Odin.

“Cleverly played, Loki.”

Thor cursed under his breath, but held himself back.

Loki grinned. “Next up is the contest of minds. I suggest a battle of wits — riddles!”

“Agreed.” said Odin. “I’ll take this challenge. The first to fail loses, and it will not be me.”

“Oh, but it isn’t me you’ll have to defeat,” the trickster replied. “As age-old tradition allows, I may name a champion to fight in my stead.  Unless you wish to rule against it?”

Odin shrugged.  “I allow it.  Whoever you choose, it will make no difference.”

“Then Wise Vafthrudnir is my champion.”

A mighty giant strode forward. “My lord Odin,” he said, and bowed formally.

“Well met, Vafthrudnir” Odin replied. “I invite you to go first.”

A silence settled over all in anticipation.

“Thank you my lord. My first riddle: You stand behind Thor while he stands behind you. How do you do the impossible?”

“Easily when we stand back-to-back. My first riddle: Who are the ten-legged, three eyed, one-tailed twain?”

“A classic riddle. The answer is Odin, upon the eight-legged Sleipnir. Now, answer me this: What fills a feasting hall even when it is empty?

Odin tilted his head, then replied. “Light. Now tell me: Sharp as ice, I never melt; Bathed in fire but never burned; I bring honor in battle and shame in defeat. What am I?”

Vafthrudnir scratched his chin. “That would be a sword, wouldn’t it? You are well-versed in the classic riddles. But what is this: Two legs on three legs eat one leg. Four legs steal one leg from two legs. Two legs threatens four legs with three legs so four legs drop one leg.”

The god chuckled appreciatively. “It is a man, a two legged, sitting on a three legged stool eating a haunch. A dog, a four legged, steals it, and you threaten him with the stool until he drops it.”

“Well done, my lord.” The jötunn bowed.

“Thank you. Now, what is this: Bright as light, fast as sight, precedes the son in all his might.”

“A riddle worthy of my intellect,” Vafthrudnir murmured. His eyes got a faraway look. “No, that’s not right. It can’t be…. It’s not.. I have it! Lightning!”

“Quite right.  Your next riddle?”

The jotunn smiled. “Where thunder comes before lightning, lightning comes before rain, and rain is dry even as it falls.”

“Clever play on my theme of Lightning.” Odin said. “I will have to think.”

Loki’s face lit with excitement.

Thor’s attendants shared concerned looks and Thor’s brow was furrowed.

Finally, Odin broke his silence. “It is a volcano. It rumbles ere it erupts in fire and volcanic lightning, and the rain is of hot, dry ash.”

Thor let out a breath and his attendants smiled at each other in relief.

Loki huffed.

“Now, hear my final riddle,” Odin said. “What saves a hero’s neck that is neither scarf nor mail?”

Vafthrudnir stared at the All-father. He licked his lips, drew a breath as if to speak, then exhaled and shook his head. His eyes glazed over as he ran through possible answers. He began to reply, then shook his head. He lowered his gaze. He rubbed his chin.

Loki fidgeted.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Vafthrudnir spoke. “I fear, my lord, I must concede. May I request the solution?”

“You may. The answer is a Neck Riddle!”

The jötunn was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, my lord, this is most ingenious!”

“What? I don’t get it!” Loki raged.

“Lord Loki,” Vafthrudnir said, “a Neck Riddle is one that saves the hero’s life – or neck. It’s a question that cannot be answered with logic. For instance, ‘What do I have in my pocket?’ or ‘What did I think when I woke up this morning?’”

“But that’s cheating!”

“Indeed, my lord. A Neck Riddle is frowned upon as unfair and unworthy of a true master of riddles.”

“So Odin cheated!”

“He did not! He did not pose a Neck Riddle, merely alluded to one, thus winning the riddling match with a Neck Riddle that isn’t one at all!” the jötunn smiled in appreciation. “This is most clever and cunning.”

Loki kicked the ground in frustration.  “Very well. Odin wins this round. However, we still have the contest of strength.”

Thor’s eyes met Odin’s for a second and some agreement passed between them. “I propose an arm-wrestling match,” Thor said.

There was a devious glint in the trickster’s eyes. “A worthy contest. The boardroom has just the right table for this.” He snapped his fingers and the portal back to the modern world opened.

Through the centre of the boardroom stretched a high table of polished black obsidian so dense and heavy it seemed to pull everything toward it.

Loki rubbed his hands together. “You have called the contest, so I set the rules.”

Thor rolled his prodigious shoulders and flexed his mighty arms. He interlaced his fingers, extended his palms and cracked his knuckles. “I’m ready.”

“Of course you are,” Loki replied with a sly grin. “But first, I nominate Ymir as my champion!”

There was a puzzled silence.

“He’s still around?” Odin asked dryly.

Loki looked away, swallowed, then caught himself. “That’s what he calls himself and who am I to argue?”

From the host of jötnar came a monster of a troll the size of an ice giant. His sheer bulk and ugliness were mesmerizing. His ferocious face sported random bristles, horns, whiskers, small, squinting eyes, and twisted, pointed teeth.

Loki snapped his fingers and two seats were placed across the table from each other.

Ymir sat and the chair gave a threatening groan. He thudded his furred elbow down upon the table.

Thor stepped forward but Loki flung out an arm.

“Not so fast!” he cried. “First of all, it won’t be you in this contest, oh mighty Thor.”

“But…”

“You called the contest, I make the rules.”

Thor looked at Odin, who shrugged. “He is within his rights.”

“Can you best Ymir?” Thor asked quietly.

“There is only one way to find out.”

Loki wagged his finger. “Alas and alack, it won’t be you either, oh Great One. Ymir’s opponent shall be… ”

He whirled and jabbed his finger towards Thor’s young female attendant. She started and her eyes widened.

” …Röskva,!”

“You monster!” Thor growled.

Loki smiled. “Compliments won’t change my mind.”

“Loki,” Odin’s words rumbled low, “As you pointed out, age-old tradition allows one to name a champion to fight in their stead.  Unless you wish to rule against age-old tradition?”

“I do!”  Loki hissed. “I rule against age-old tradition!!  Proceed!”

The girl trembled but stepped forward. “I’ll compete as Lord Thor and the agreement requires.”

“I know you’ll do your best, Röskva,” Thor said softly.

She tried to take her place at the table. But the chair was too high for her to climb into easily. Thor lifted her into the chair. The table was so high though she couldn’t place her elbow squarely on the surface.

Ymir eyed her and sneered. “I’ll squash you then I’ll eat you,” he snarled.

The girl looked back at Thor.

Thor growled. “Arm wrestling is not a death match.”

Odin stepped forward. “Are you trying to propose this? Changing the match?”

“No! Ymir!! Understand? It’s strictly arm wrestling! Now,” Loki gloated, “let’s begin.”

“Yes, let’s,” Odin said mildly. “However, the girl must be able to reach the table. Lower her side, so she can place her elbow on it.”

“That’s impossible,” Loki said.

Thor snorted, crouched below the table, and pushed up with his shoulder. His muscles strained and bulged, his face grew red. The table slowly rose. He grabbed Mjölnir and smashed it against one leg, then the other, breaking off a good hand’s width from each. He released the table. It crashed down and shook the floor.

Loki put his fists on his hips. “Now it’s all sloped. You ruined a perfectly good table.” He waved his hand. “Well, get on with it!”

The girl gently placed her elbow on the table and stole a glance at her opponent.

Ymir glared through bloodshot eyes and slid his arm forward to meet the girl’s small hand. It disappeared in the clasp of his huge, furry fingers.

Loki clenched his teeth in a grin. “Ragnarök any minute now! Ready? One! Two! Three! Begin!”

Ymir snarled, and moved to push over the girl’s arm in one swift motion. Yet, he failed to budge her. He strained, muscles and sinew bulging on his arm and neck. Veins began to pulse in his forehead. He gasped for breath. Still, he could not move her arm even a hair’s breadth.

Loki stared in horror as monstrous Ymir’s elbow began sliding across the table toward the girl. The giant tried to illegally hold on the edge of the table with his left hand, yet to no avail. Pulled from his chair, he lost his balance, slid, and smacked into hard obsidian chin first. With a huge groan, his eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out.

Loki gurgled.

The girl extracted her hand from the monstrous paw and shook it lightly. Thor helped her off the chair and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Good job!”

Odin looked at Loki.

“You cheat. You fraud.”

“You selected the venue, rules, and contestants. You watched the match. Concede and abide by our agreement. A millennium without your tricks. Time for the world to right itself.”

Loki crossed his arms, looked up at the ceiling, and nodded almost imperceptibly. Then as Odin’s group left, he shook his fist. “I hate you. I really bloody hate you!”

Over his shoulder Odin murmured, “Maybe it’s past time to see a counselor about that.”

 

On their way down Odin clapped Thor on the shoulder. “Clever.”

“Loki can’t resist taking advantage when he thinks he’s found weakness.”

 Odin looked at the girl. “Ginnungagap, thank you for taking the place of Röskva today.”

She smiled. “No one can resist the  Ginnungagap , the Abyss, especially on a slope. And if you stare into it long enough…” she shook her head.

“We owe you a thousand years of peace.”

“At least from Loki. But the humans?” She shrugged.

“I have hope for them,” Odin said. 

“And yet Ragnarok is still to come.”

“When is the Twilight to come already in the past?”

Odin’s raven-black eye took in their startled looks.  He smiled. “When metaphorically, magically, the fated conditions have already mostly been acted out.  We shall see how the riddle of Ragnarok, the riddle of the future, plays out.”