Thor: New Skies (Thor/ Danmachi)

[Stimpak Medic]

WARNING: Please don't take this fanfiction as historically or mythologically accurate; you will be severely disappointed.

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The Frost Giant was as powerful as he was cruel. He had killed seven score and five men in his rampage across Midgard, and more than half that in women and children. Seeking rest, he had holed up in a cave merely a stone's throw from the small town of Grimstad.

That was his first and last mistake.

The women and children prayed for me to keep the town safe, while the men prayed for my guidance and strength.

And so, I arrived at their town, gathering twelve men to join in the hunt with me.

We braved the snow and bitter cold before finally coming upon the giant in his abode, a crude cave carved by the elements at the base of a cliff.

The giant sensed us coming and charged from the cave, but my brave men were no cowards, and riddled the Giant with spears. But a Frost Giant is no easy foe. This one carried the blood of Mimir, albeit diluted.

As the Frost Giant swung his huge stone club, fashioned from a colossal stone that fell from the mountain above, my Axe met its fury.

The stone scraped against the iron of the blade, and for a mere moment I was pushed back.

"Is that your best, little Godling?" The Frost Giant mocked.

With an exertion of my strength, I shattered the stone with my free hand, slamming my fist into it with a thunderous crack.

The Frost Giant, taken by surprise, fell forward, dragged by its own massive weight.

Jumping above its gargantuan figure, I gripped my Axe with both hands and brought it down upon the Giant's blue neck.

And thus, his neck split in two, and his blood washed across the ground as he fell dead. From where the blood sank into the ground, the soil grew fresh, and life returned to the frozen ground for a short moment.

The men cheered with me, and I brought the head of the Giant back as a trophy, sticking it on the end of a pointed log in front of the town. A warning to any other Giant that may get any ideas.

And so, for the next three days we celebrated, with feasts, mead, and women. I slept with almost half the women in the town before I made my exit, back to Asgard.

I had barely passed my hundredth birthday and had finally grown out of boyhood.

In Midgard terms, I had passed childhood and just entered my adult years.

Arriving back on my chariot, I entered the long hall where my father rested upon his throne. The throne that would inevitably be mine someday.

"You have returned, my son. Tell me, what deeds have you performed to honor our people?" My father asks, his arm resting on the arm of his golden throne, and his single eye staring intently at me.

I kneel before his throne, bowing my head.

"Father, I have slain a thousand giants over the past years, and rekindled a dying star for a planet long forgotten to time. As well, I have taken it upon myself to sow my seed amongst the women of Midgard, for they will bear new warriors and great men to light the future of Man. The future of Midgard is bright, father!" I finish joyously.

However, he doesn't seem to agree.

"If I hear you correctly, you have done naught but sleep around and squander your gifts? Baldur brings light to those across the universe. Vidar uses his power to build outposts across the universe, and spread knowledge to Man and others across the Nine Realms!"

Odin stopped, taking a breath before speaking again.

"Bragi spreads art and culture amongst those that have none, amongst those that seek meaning, and that is to say nothing of Vali and Hodor who tirelessly work to advance our people. Tell me again, son, what have you done for our people?" Odin finishes, getting up from the throne.

Even in his age, I can do nothing but kneel in awe at his great power. Still, I feel wronged.

"Father, is slaying our people's enemies and passing my powers on to Man not an honorable act? Have I not done my share?" I ask, looking up at him.

"You have done more than your share, and that is why I am punishing you. In your desire to protect man, you destroy any chance that they will rise. Tell me, Son. Would you want Vidar to solve all of your problems for you? Sometimes, Man needs to stumble and fail. Thus it is written in the Runes." Father finishes, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"No, but you would have me watch them die, the beings I love so?"

Odin narrows his eye again.

"Do you truly love them for what they are, or do you view them as pets? Little amusing beings to be toyed with? Do you remember a single name of a man you slew a Giant with, or a woman you bedded?"

"What of it, father? Do they not exist to be protected and enjoyed?"

"You are a foolish boy, my son. Perhaps living as one of them will open your eyes to how you must live. What say you?"

"Father, you wouldn't!" I stand up, consequences be damned.

"I would, and I will. Perhaps living as one of them, existing to be played with by Gods such as us, will give you the wisdom and experience you so lack!"

"Father, No!" I shout, and the hall shakes under my booming voice.

"I am doing this for you, my son! Toil as a man for forty years, then if you have learned your lesson, then I will return you to your rightful place among us. For now, forget who you once were and be banished in the name of ODIN!"

"Father!" I shout, reaching out to him, but I feel pulled and dragged through a sea of infinite colors, every hue and shade mixing and colliding in explosions of radiant design. Then, everything goes white.

I wake to the sound of a cart's wooden wheels rolling over rocks and dirt. The crunch of dry ground, and the simple humming of the driver mix with the soft wind blowing through the trees around me. It is summertime, and the warmth washes over my semi-exposed chest. A soft black unbuttoned cloth shirt sits open against my muscular chest, as shorts of black cloth rest against my legs.

A large one-handed steel war axe rests on my belt, tapping against the wooden seat of the cart as it bumps and sways with every step the dappled horses make. Laced brown boots sit on my feet, tightly tied.

My golden hair blows slightly in the wind, and I push it out of my face.

A small pouch of Valis rests against my belt, the little I had saved up as a worker in the mill from the town I grew up in. My father and mother had saved up a sizeable sum to purchase a small abode in Orario for me, ever since I told them that I wished to become an Adventurer.

"Mother, father, I love you so. I will visit you again when I grow to be a great adventurer!" That was my promise when I left, and I intend to keep it.

The wooden cart wobbles and shakes, but it remains stable enough that I do not fall ill from the motions.

"There's a good hour or more until we arrive at Orario, Sigmund. Perhaps you should rest? You've been sitting and staring at the trees for the past two hours." The cart driver says, looking over his shoulder at me.

"No. I wish to see everything I can." I reply, my gaze sweeping over the lands. The trees are thick, but I can hear the sounds of other carriages and carts passing by occasionally, and I look to the people within them.

"Very well, but don't show your status as a country boy in Orario, lest you get scammed or looked down upon." The cart driver says.

It seems he has my goodwill in mind, or it's the high price my parents have paid him. Either way, it makes for a comfortable ride.

"If anyone looks down on me, they will taste my axe!" I exclaim, and the man just turns his head back, muttering to himself before going quiet. It's clear he has resigned himself to silence.

As the trees go by and the road opens to a large path, I see many roads intersecting and combining into the one I now followed. People with packs on their backs, adventurers, and carts passed by, in either direction from the large gates in the massive walls surrounding Orario.

Time passed, and we were allowed entrance into Orario. As the horses took us through the streets, eventually, we entered a residential area, full of small two-story homes. Stopping in front of a small property, I got off the cart with my two bags of clothes and possessions.

"Well, it's the end of the road. Best of luck, Sigmund." The driver says, and takes off, with the horses' hooves and wheels crunching on the dirt road.

This was an overwhelming feeling, consisting of both awe and possibility.

From here on out, I was no longer Sigmund the millhand; I was now Sigmund the Adventurer, and my life was going to begin again.