Fimbulvetr

Part 2: The winter or winters plague the earth; creatures of all kinds beset the lands; It is the beginning of Ragnarok.

     Winds blew fiercely for the coming dawn while the dense heat of day battled the overpowering precipitation. The air was thick and heavy, but the trees swayed freely. Snowfall raced in every direction as Fimbulvetr welcomed the three winters greedily. Cold, cold; the hopeless eyes of the forest were threatened by frostbite. A voice as enchanting as the moon sang like a wisp of a harp, and carried by the wind, called on the wolves of the forest. Their eyes glittered beneath the verdant greenery like golden marbles. A pair flickered slightly as the first signs of snow drifted over a crystallizing pond nearby. Skoll pounced lightly over the snow and stopped just before the edge of the pond. He bent over, taking a cautious drink. A few feet away, something shifted, and it was reflected in the mirror-like surface of the pond. Alert, Skoll took one last sip and braced him for a leap, then sprinted towards the hills. Just behind, footsteps padded in a jagged deviation. The signal, he paused abruptly but kept his cynosure ahead. Hait, his brother, skidded to a halt by his side. He snorted, making white puffs of air. “It has begun, hasn’t it?” Hati breathed. Skoll didn’t answer right away but even without the confirmation, he and Hati knew very well that the doom of the world has befallen them all. “You shouldn’t be here.” Skoll looked up at the sky. The northern lights glowed in a wavering fluorescence that seemed to hold time between sunrise and sunset. “The behemoths are changing course. We shouldn’t be here.” After a pause, Hati and Skoll exchanged silent negotiation. “Go,” Skoll growled and they ran across the snow for miles, racing under the moonlight for the first rays of morn. It was cold still and the breaths of their nostrils were whiter than their fur. The two wolves paused at the top of a snow-topped hill and stared at the kaleidoscopic sky. For a moment, time stopped and the sun and the moon were laden side by side. Skoll and Hati howled in the night, which echoed wonders across the Earth. The brother wolves dug their heels and ran across the hill then leaped as high and as far as their paws allowed and devoured the sun and the moon. The Earth was engulfed into darkness and a cold, cold wind blew once more.  They howled, calling upon the three c***s of the Earth. The first c**k, Fjalar, crowed before the great giants. The second c**k, Gullinkambi, crowed before all the mighty gods. By this they were all pleased.

     Deep into the earth, the third c**k crowed for all the dead to rise. Thus, throughout the darkness of the Earth, moans and cries were all that could be heard. Their screeches and lows tore the ground, causing an enormous earthquake. The hindrances and chains of oppression burst with gladness, freeing the terrible wolf, Fenrir.

     At once the world trembled and seas and the oceans rushed ponderously against the almighty Jormungand, the Midgard Serpant. His horrible coils threatened to tear the limbs and loins of men. The scales of his tail scraped the earth and the lands, staining and destroying all that pass his way. Indeed, his very name carries the impression of havoc and destruction. He saunters through the water, whose ripples raise squalls, cyclones and hurricanes. The sky crackled deeply and with a swirling pit, opened its eyes and released a rapid surge of lightning, which stroke the verdant earth.

Another strike of lighting thrust the waters into an enormous wave that rolled across the oceans and pushed free the ancient ship, Naglfar. “Gather the oars!” Hymir bellowed as he led an army of giants towards the battlefield.

     The world shook and from the corners of the earth, harrowing faces emerged. Fear rippled through the trees and the waters. The sky, no longer bathed in light, became a scattered maze painted in red. All trembled under the crushing footsteps of the giants, who bellowed curses at the eternal night. Elves and dwarves hid behind their truncheons as a piercing screech echoed in the woods. The sands tore for the demons who crawled the night greedily.

Author's Note

This part is really about what is happening to the world in the very beginning of Ragnarok, as prophesized by High, King of the Hall. [I might bore you with too much description, and I've not yet assessed it for grammar errors.]