“And in 1966 two British paratroopers rowing across the Atlantic in a survival test were awakened. John Ridgeway, one of the crewmen, looked out from the boat and clearly saw what he described as a creature of enormous size, like a serpent, poised over them with its head held high above the waves. Then the creature dove deep and was gone.”
Pausing, Thor took another sip of coffee, set the mug down carefully. He focused once more on Connor. “Ridgeway was an experienced soldier, a trained observer. He was held in the highest esteem by his peers, also hard men who only respected other men of superior strength and judgment. He wrote later that he had seen all manner of creature on the trip. Whales, dolphins, flying fish. But he reluctantly had to admit that there was only one explanation for what this thing could have been. A sea serpent. And he was correct. He could only say what he saw with his own eyes. He also had no reason to lie.”
Connor was silent, staring at the red-bearded face. He had listened a long time, and he was amazed at Thor's command of this branch of history, ancient and modern.
“You seem to know an awful lot about this creature,” Connor said, curiosity coming through. “How come?’'
Thor was still leaning forward. He had not moved. “The Leviathan is one of the great legends of my people,” he replied.
“But this thing isn't legend. It was real, wasn't it?”
“Yes. But there is also much legend. And among my people there is a story told often to me when I was a boy.”
“What story?”
“A story told to me by my grandfather,” Thor responded, his eyes focusing distantly. “A story the old man would tell me often, to teach me the meaning of courage and strength.”
Connor said nothing, waiting.
“My grandfather was a good man,” Thor continued, a slow nod. “Though he died when I was only three or four, I remember him well. I remember his heart.” He turned to the window. “He was a strong man, even for my people. Even taller than I am, and heavier. He had never been defeated in cannon throwing at the games until the year of his death. But he was already old when I was a child.”
He hesitated, smiling. “He was young once, I suppose. But I only remember him with his long white hair and white beard flowing like a snow mound from his head. Always strong. Mythic. A giant who reminded me of the heroes of old. He could appear a hard man, and revealed little to the world. But his heart ... his heart was great.”
A silence passed.
“He would come to me often when I was a child,” Thor said softly. “Or I would crawl onto his lap at night as he sat beside the window, gazing out over the gray sea. It was only then, when we were alone in the gray evening, that he would show me his heart. When there was no one else who might mock his secret words.” The gigantic Norseman paused somberly. “Yes. Then he would talk freely, and speak of heroes of old, of love and honor and strength. He would tell me the old stories of our people. Men who fought great battles and won. Men who saw evil as evil and good as good, and who fought for what they believed. It was his dream, he told me late one night when the sun was low, to die as they had died. Doing battle with evil. Giving angry blow for angry blow to finish the fight, overcoming with his last breath.”
Thor looked down, frowning.
“Often enough, he told me the same story,” he continued. “The story of Ragnarok. Dusk of the gods. And I would listen with a child's wide eyes.”
Connor waited. “Ragnarok! The last battle between good and evil?'‘
A nod, and Thor continued, “Yes. It is the story of Asgard and a leviathan named Jormungand who would rise from the sea at the end of time.” He paused. “Jormungand was the Midgard Serpent, the most terrible of all the evil creatures of the deep. It was horrible and strong, and all of Asgard trembled at the sight of it. But there was a single Norse god, the strongest and the one who held the most generous and noble heart, who refused to tremble before it. He was angered that the Serpent dared to threaten the lives of the innocent. So alone he arose from his throne, took up his hammer, and went forth to do battle against it.
“On the great ice field beside the sea, they met. Never before had the world witnessed such a conflict. Long was the battle, and uncertain. It continued for a day and a night.
“Asgard’s strongest defender struck the Midgard Serpent again and again, hard blows that would have shattered mountains. But Jormungand would not die. Instead it coiled around the titan and struck with its killing venom, venom that had burned mountains and valleys alike into dust. Eye to eye and shoulder to shoulder, in thunderous blows they struck, grappling to the last, carrying the grim battle to a grim death. On and on it went, seeming to last forever until both were all but dead in the grip of the other, the strongest heart alone destined to overcome. In the long and terrible end the Norse god staggered to his feet, rising up and raising his hammer high. Then he brought it down once more to deliver a last, thunderous blow, finally crushing the head of the beast. And the Serpent died.”