Ragnarok: Doom of the Gods

Chapter 4- Wood

Chapter 4

Wood

Acrimony. That's the feeling that keeps pulsing through Thor's head.

The Dark Elves were taken as prisoners of Asgard. This news shocked him. He believed they had eradicated all of the elves. The report was of women and children, but it was still concerning. Odin's judgement has not been sound recently, and Thor wishes to go to Asgard immediately.

But when Fandral called to Heimdall to open the Bifrost, what happened? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No word from Munin, no messenger; just silence.

The hubbub from the Light Elves died down like a tragic accident; fearful, but soon forgotten with scary ease. There was no need to be afraid of the Dark Elves if they were Asgard's prisoners. Unlike the Light Elves, Thor couldn't do anything but run around in a rampant of rage.

Fandral is lying luxuriously upon Thor's lounge chair. Thor is doing quite the opposite. As in, stomping about the room in animosity.

"Really, Thor, I'm sure your father will summon us soon! There is no need to worry." As Fandral says this, although, he does look distressed.

Thor looks at him hotly. "Something is wrong and my father won't let me see him. And your petty comforting won't do a thing." Thor curses in Asgardian.

"Well, Thor, what would you have me do? Run around Alfheim and screech at Heimdall to open the Bifrost? No, we must keep our heads. Let's think this through. Hey, how about this. What would Loki do?"

Thor stops his rampage and looks pained when he hears his brothers name. But the thunder god considers this. What would Loki do?

"I've got it!" Thor says excitedly. "We must find one of Loki's portals."

"Brilliant idea Thor!" Fandral jumps up. "How about we ask some of the elves if they've ever had any strange disappearances?"

Looking at Fandral with a face full of relief and determination, Thor replies deeply, "It's a good place to start."

***

A new day in the kitchen. The same dread.

Every morning I used to try and wake up to some scrap of joy: the calm breeze through the Vanaheim trees, or the hope of food. Now I find myself dreaming of life on an Asgard farm with some of my other elves who had been sent there. Asgardian weather is always beautiful. Never too hot or cold; always perfect. I can just imagine myself standing there, the breeze flowing over my skin as I pick juicy Asgardian fruit. Heaven.

But I can't go there. This cage is growing smaller and smaller.

The anticipation for my meeting with Mr. Guard tonight is my only optimism. Could he become my friend? No. That's ridiculous thinking. I don't even know his name. And when he fully comes to terms with who I am, he won't want to be my confidant anyway.

Why does he really want to see me? By all rights, reporting me should have been the first thing on his mind. An elf sneaking around the royal Asgardian library might be punishable by death.

We both trudged to that library, our heads inside the world's built within us. Inside, there are walls. We were running madly about those cities, trying to find someone to understand. Maybe I did. The guard had said he understood what I meant: that life is hard. He felt a connection.

So, perhaps that is it. But I feel as if I'm letting my head become my heart. I am inventing this meeting; trying to find reasons for its existence that are probably lies.

I just have to know. My head remains above the kitchen steam, peering through the clouds for pieces of his face; answers. The noise polarizers; my thoughts separate from the senseless bustle of the kitchn throughout the day. I'm away from that room until I physically leave it, and then it's where I want to be.