losthellhound

I decided to write someone a story, and thought that I would post it here for them to see. I hope they enjoy it. - The main character is my namesake here and many other places, I hope you like him -

The Lost Hell Hound - Part four

The dawn broke in its usual splendor, basking the valleys and mountains in a golden light blessed by the gods themselves. Song birds burst out in choruses and there was a general feeling of perfect-ness everywhere. Fenris hated it. The light caused his eyes to water and the birds tormented him with their off key songs of joy. Curling up into a smaller ball, Fenris, known in the nine realms as the Lost Hell Hound, tried to make it all go away. Just as sleep tugged at his dark fur a stone bounced off his nose and landed beside his head. Opening one eye a crack he growled deeply.

“If I open my other eye and someone less then Odin is standing in my cave I’ll be rather upset. Last time I got upset forty Valkyries lost their pig tails.” He said.

When he opened his other eye he found his cave pleasantly empty. Contented, he retuned to his nap only to have another stone bounce off his nose. This time he snapped his head up in time to see a flitting shadow bounce away from him.

“Someone rides my wrath today!” He growled, leaping at the shadow only to find the ground under his paws empty. Swinging his head around he found himself alone again.

“Loki?” He asked, tilting his head slightly, and then shaking it, dismissing the thought his lost master had returned. Another stone flew at him, this time at his swaying tail.

“Who’s there?” He screamed, now at the end of his relatively short temper.

“Kos.” A voice answered.

“Tos.” Another voice chimed in.

The voices were small and high, and the tone was very matter of fact. Fenris turned and turned but could not find the source of the annoyances though.

“Curse the Aesir and their tricks. I thought that was OUR job. Hang me by Gleipnir for all this, just show yourselves!” Fenris cursed.

He watched motion out of the corner of his keen canine eyes and turned his head slowly to regard to creatures cowering before him. Each was only the size of a rabbit, but shaped like plump dwarves. Their skin was a dark gray, and small, almost humorous wings extended from their backs.

Fenris snorted “Imps.” He then regarded them carefully.

“What are you doing here?” He asked Kos and Vos.

“We got bored in Helheim.” Answered Kos.

“Hel kicked us out.” Corrected Tos.

Fenris tilted his head again. Then thought better of asking the question he wanted to ask. One imp loose in Yggdrasil was bad enough, two would be a nightmare suited to the humor of Fenris’ mother Hel. The imps were legendary tricksters, born from Loki’s dreams of revenge on the Aesir, and bearing all of the illusion and cunning of the greatest trickster.

“So you’re bored?” Fenris asked.

“Maybe.” Replied Kos.

“Depends.” Replied Tos.

Fenris smiled to himself and drew closer to the two imps.

“You see, there’s this god named Thor, and he loves to play games.. “ Fenris explained…

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"Life is possible only with illusions. And so, the question for the science of mental health must become an absolutely new and revolutionary one, yet one that reflects the essence of the human condition: On what level of illusion does one live?"
-- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death