Chapter 259: Chapter 258: Mjolnir

Chapter 258: Mjolnir

17^th October 2012, Scotland, Earth

(Thor Odinson POV)

Before he could air his grievances, he looked behind him and saw what the Morrigan was staring at. It was what appeared to be a large rectangular rock, with an even larger stone pole coming out of it. It felt familiar for some reason, like an echo, or a voice of someone who spoke to him in his childhood. It resonated with his soul like no other. In his hand, his hammer started vibrating as well, recognizing the stone for some reason. It took a few moments, but Thor gasped when he understood what was in front of him, “That’s not possible!”

The Morrigan gave him a smug grin, “Honey, you have no idea what’s possible…”

“That’s…” Thor didn’t trust himself to continue his sentence.

“Yes, Odinson, this is Mjolnir, or more specifically, the first Mjolnir ever built.”

The Crown prince of Asgard had no words. There was simply no way that he could express the wonder and confusion that he was feeling. He looked at the hammer in his hand. It was far prettier, it was made of metal, Uru metal to be more specific, and yet it paled in front of the rocky grey stone that made up the hammer in front of him.

It barely even looked like a hammer, and yet its power was undeniable. The Uru Mjolnir barely felt more than a shard, a fragment of a fragment of the power that the Stone Mjolnir represented. No, it wasn’t just the power, there was something more, something otherworldly about the stone hammer. As Thor looked at the hammer, an odd sense of familiarity overwhelmed him for a fraction of a second, something that he had attributed to his imagination. For that small moment, the God of Thunder felt as if he was greeting an old friend, and yet he was sure that he had never seen this hammer in his life.

It was an odd paradox, two hammers that he knew were both his hammer, both Mjolnir deep down in his soul. The contradiction was by itself giving him a headache. Which one was the real Mjolnir? Which one was his true partner? In the end, he simply uttered a simple word, asking for any kind of explanation for the sight in front of him, “How?”

“I suppose you would be surprised by it. The hammer in front of you, the one on the ground, has existed for billions of years. It was not forged in the heart of a dying star, it isn’t even made of Uru, but if I'm honest, I have no idea how it came to be. I have no idea who made this masterpiece, a weapon that is without a doubt one of the most powerful artifacts ever created in the known universe. I do not know how it came to be, only what it is. It took me centuries to figure it out, but I now know that it is a conceptual weapon.”

“I don’t understand…”

The woman smirked, “A conceptual weapon, is a godly weapon that embodies an aspect of reality on a universal scale. They are legendary, often considered stories throughout the universe. There are very few of them and even fewer of them are known, the Necro sword that represents Death, the Ultimate Nullifier that represents non-existence, the Shears of Destiny that represent Fate, and the Bands of Veracity that represent Truth. Every single one of them is an artifact of untold power, that has been used in benevolent and horrible ways. I have no doubt that there are more of them out there, whose wielders kept their existence hidden, or that found no wielder of their own. No one knows how they came to be, only of the power that they represent.”

Thor was gaping at the weapons named in front of him. He knew of them, of the sword that kills Gods themselves, the famed tools that the Fates used to shape the tapestry of Destiny itself, the bands that force anyone to speak no lie. These were barely more than tales that were curiously spread throughout the nine realms and beyond. He had thought that these were just precautionary tales, to scare children so that they wouldn’t consider themselves to be invulnerable. He had no idea that they were real, even his father had made no mention of them. In a way, he was excited to find out that Mjolnir was a weapon in their league, perhaps even better, “What about Mjolnir? What aspect of reality does it represent? Is it Thunder?”

The green eyed woman snorted and responded, “No it isn’t. Mjolnir is the Hammer of Strength, a weapon of creation and destruction, depending on its wielder. For one could build wonders with a hammer, and one could destroy and kill using it as well. And like all conceptual weapons, they were so powerful that they grew a semblance of a sentience, allowing them to see into the hearts of their prospective wielders to deem them worthy or unworthy of their power using their own standards.”

In a way, what the Morrigan had just revealed made him proud. Out of all the living beings in the universe, Mjolnir had chosen him before all others, and it still keeps choosing him to this moment.

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The woman must have seen through him since she sighed in disappointment at his expression and continued, “From what I know, the first Thor came upon the Hammer in a time of great crisis, where his own family was threatened. He needed strength to protect them. He heard a rumor of a mighty weapon, one that no one could even lift. And so, desperate to save his family, he walked up to the hammer and picked it up.”

“Was he really that powerful to be chosen by a weapon like Mjolnir?”

Again, the woman sighed in disappointment and Thor felt like he was still a boy being reprimanded by his mother, “What does power have to do with anything? Sure, the more powerful the user is, the more they could channel their power, but conceptual weapons tend to choose people that either embody their concept or at the very least respect it greatly. To be chosen by Mjolnir, the first Thor had to be strong, but not necessarily powerful.”

Still confused, the God of Thunder asked, “What’s the difference?”

“Any idiot could be powerful. Anyone could master magics or sorcery. Anyone can sell their soul to elder gods, demons and eldritch beings. Celestials are beings of unspeakable power and yet they would not be able to move this hammer one inch. Did you never wonder why your father never used Mjolnir? He knows of the existence of the original one, and yet he never tried to use it against the Shadows. Why do you think he never even tried? It’s not because his spear, Gungnir, is more powerful, because it isn’t, it’s because he’s not strong enough. Because strength is more than being mighty, it represents the strength of character, of will, of hope and resilience. The first Thor never planned to conquer using Mjolnir, he never wanted to use it to harm anyone, only to protect, and the hammer understood that. She deemed him worthy and hasn’t accepted anyone that isn’t a reincarnation of Thor ever since. For the continuation of the cycle, Mjolnir would appear on a planet, and Thor, after some form of tribulation, would come desperate to find a weapon to save his family, and he would be chosen by Mjolnir until the next iteration of Ragnarök.”

Thor was spellbound by the story and asked, “what happened? Why do I have a different Mjolnir?”

The woman looked at him as if he was a particularly dim child, and Thor started to shuffle around in embarrassment, “Well, the Shadows came, of course. Mjolnir’s influence over your soul presented a problem. You were always going to be a wild card, but with Mjolnir, you were a wild card that was powerful enough to cause trouble. Thor Odinson lifting Mjolnir was a fixed point in time in every Ragnarök cycle, so they chose to control it. In every iteration, they would build a powerful hammer, but not too powerful, and call it Mjolnir and give it to the Thor of the cycle and sealed away the original hammer to avoid troublesome situations. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t expect how powerful the hammer truly was and how desperate it was to reunite with its rightful wielder. Names have power, and there was no doubt that Mjolnir was powerful. It was sealed away, hidden from your sight, but it didn’t forget about you. Every time a new Mjolnir was forged, it became a shard of its namesake. It was barely more than a fraction of a fraction, but it was enough to protect you against the Shadows’ influence. It’s why you’ve always felt that your hammer was alive, that it pushed you in a way, because, in a way, it is, but only on a rudimentary level, because of the influence of its namesake.”

Thor looked at the hammer he was holding reverently. It was his companion, that had gotten him through some tough times, both in battle and in matters of the heart. Inwardly he sent his thanks to the hammer and felt a slight comforting thrum of power in return. But there was something that was still bothering him, “But if it was sealed, then why is it here, on Midgard of all places?”

For some reason, the witch had a far away look on her face, “It happened thousands of years ago, I was around a thousand years old at the time, I think. My home was gone. In a fit of greed and madness, a magical clan summoned something that they really shouldn’t have, and they tried to bind it. I did my best to fight it and was able to save as many as I could, but in the end, my home, Atlantis, was destroyed, and the survivors, who were barely more than children, that didn’t understand our customs and our ways, scattered all over the world. I was alone, lost and confused. I didn’t know what I should be doing with my life. I was part of a temporal anomaly, meaning that I couldn’t die until the paradox was resolved. I couldn’t die, and yet, I didn’t wish to continue living without my family. I was tempted to just go into an enchanted sleep and wake up when the paradox was resolved. And I almost got through with it, until I found him, crashed down, on that hill over there. I had built a small hovel to act as a temporary home as I traveled here. One day, I found him in a crater, Thor Odinson, or more specifically, your predecessor.”

Mesmerized by the story, Thor let the Morrigan continue her tale, “He had crimson hair, funnily enough, that was a color as rich as mortal blood. I found him, bleeding gold, with two empty holes in place of his eyes. I healed him, but was unable to regrow his eyes, probably since he lost them while using sacrificial magic. After I nursed him back to health, he told me of his identity, of his tale. His father had just died, and the nine realms were in chaos. He wasn’t sure of his choices, and so he chose to imitate his father and grow even further. He sacrificed both his eyes for knowledge, wanting to surpass his father in both power and wisdom, and using this knowledge, he found and unsealed the original Mjolnir, a weapon powerful enough to bring peace in the nine realms. For a while, it worked, he had saved his people. But he was betrayed by his brother, Loki, and Asgard was destroyed and with him being the only survivor. He had avenged his people, of course, but he knew of the Shadows’ involvement in Ragnarök and his brother’s betrayal. After his hail Mary, he was injured and he crash-landed on Midgard. After telling me his tale, he told me of the Shadows and of their goals. He had planned on weakening them, killing himself in the process, not wanting to live as the last Aesir. Because as long as he was alive, the cycle would not complete. He decided to sacrifice himself to weaken them as much as possible and asked me to keep Mjolnir safe until his next iteration came to claim it for the final conflict against Asgard’s ultimate enemy.”

A lone tear came down from the Morrigan’s eyes, and she continued, “He was my friend, the first one I made after I lost everything, and it broke my heart to know that he was going to kill himself soon, and that there was nothing I could do about it. In many ways, he inspired me. We had both lost our homes, but even after all the agony and betrayal he had suffered, he didn’t give up. He walked into his enemy’s home, tried to take every single one of them with him, and greeted death as an old friend. His dedication to his race, to his people was moving, and I vowed to do the same for Midgard. And now, here I am, Odinson, fulfilling my friend’s last request, bringing you to his hammer, to his ultimate weapon for the fight ahead. Now, let us see, successor of my friend, if you are worthy.”

Thor nodded, excited and terrified. He slowly walked up the hill and grabbed the hammer by its stone handle, feeling it thrum with a power that far surpassed his own. And yet, he knew that it belonged to him, for Mjolnir and he had a deep bond that resonated with his soul, and for a moment Mjolnir and Thor were one.

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