The War With Jotunheim

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The sky darkened as thick clouds rolled in around them. The sky alive with lightning. Llewelyn had taken all he could stomach. Alfodr gave him the nod of approval. He allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he pulled Mjolnir pendant from around his neck. It grew into his mighty weapon. The sky was cracking and crackling as he floated up into th sky. Mjolnir gripping tightly between his fingers as scanned the crowed his voice boomed above the thunder "I am Thor" ---------------------------------------------------- Llewellyn Evans was unaqutively normal. Born and raised in a small Welsh town. His life was as mundane and boring as could be. Until the electrifying that changed his life for ever.

Fantasy / Adventure
Geraint Johns
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:


The air was thick with the sound of battle. The clap of thunder reverberating around the valley as rain lasted down hard. The sky flashing as lightning shattered the world. He felt the power and strength flowing through him. The feeling was intoxicating, he felt eternal.

He was running faster than he thought was possible. He could feel the smooth worn leather bound handle in his hand. Yet it felt more like an extention of himself. Craved with unearthly intricacy.

In the distance he see could it, his final foe. The serpentine beast was ready for him. His hands tightened around the leather handle as he swung. The weapon met the creatures head, he felt the power explode around him. The bolt exploded from the heavens. He felt the teeth in his arm, sinking deeper and deeper.

Time and time again he brought down his wroth yet the beast stood firm. He drew in all his strength and swung one last time with all his might, both his hands wrapped around the leather handle as he brought it down. Again the sky around him exploded. Yet this time the beast crumbled below him.

Slowly he floated to the ground. He could feel the venom coursing through his body. He took nine steps forward before he felt the leather handle slide from his fingers. The ground came racing towards him quickly as the world went black.


The thwack of the book hitting the table woke Llewelyn with a start. His head was spinning and he had a splitting head ache. Mr Jones stood above him learing down like some hungry vulture waiting to pick at his carcass.

Mr Jones was in his mid 60s his hair whiter than snow. He had a great big bushy mustache under his nose which quivered when ever he shouted. He had an old weathered face, he had worked the mines before coming a teacher. He was a hard and strict man.

"I'm starting to understand why your here Mr Evans. If you'd been awake during the lessons this year you might not been to be here during the summer" he said in his deep gravely voice, years of smoking and mining would do that to a man.

Llewelyn's head was still spinning as he sat up beads of sweat running down his forhead. He heard his own voice mutterimg 'Sorry Sir' or something of the like. Today was the last day of summer school. 4 hours and he'd be done.

His heart was still pounding. For 6 months now he had the same dream. Over and over again. It always terrified him, it scared the living shit out of him if he was prefectly honest. Yet he carved that dream. The feeling of power and strength was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It was intoxicating, it was all encompassing, like living life ×1000.

Llewelyn had shoulder length brown hair, which he used to cover his face and hide from the world. There was only one thing remotely interesting about him, his eyes. They could only be described as electric blue. They were like nothing anyone had seen before. Everyone always remarked on then it had been one of the focal points of the bullying during his childhood. Llewelyn was dyslexic, which was hard enough without the fact that his first language was Welsh. He'd grown up speaking Welsh, as did his Parents and their parents.

The four hours went by rather quickly as Mr Jones droned on about his childhood in the valleys. Llewelyn sat in the back of the bus it was a short journey back to his home town of Tenby.

Tenby was a small fishing village full Pastel-hued Georgian houses which overlooked its horseshoe-shaped harbour; vast strips of sand beaches flanked its headland; and an abundance of traditional pubs, gift shops and Italo-Welsh ice-cream parlours winded through the labyrinth of cobbled streets. Tenby’s Welsh name of ‘Dinbych-y-Pysgod’ which roughly translated to ‘Little Fortress of the Fish’. It wasn't much, but Llewelyn loved it. During the winters especially, hardly any tourists it felt like the village was his again.

The journey was little more than 30 minutes but it was long enough for him to drift into sleep. A particularly large pot hole jolted Llewelyn's head hard into the window. It was the same dream again.

Llewelyn's house was on the sea front. Well it was a pub, but he and his family lived above. The old building was almost 300 years old. He loved the smell the old beams held. The fire always cracking away in the bar area. Even the older men who came in every evening. He wouldn't change his life for everything. His family weren't poor nor were they rich. Perfectly regular family.

Llewelyn entered the house as he always did using the back door which came into the family living room. He took off his shoes and hung up his coat and staggered into the kitchen, his head still pounding from the dream. Immediately he noticed something was different. Both his parents and his grandparents on his fathers side were sat round the table.

Llewelyn frowned curiously "What's going on? I feel like I'm being ambushed" he said laughing slightly, though he couldn't stop the edge of nervousness creeping into his voice. His eyes drifted to the shove upon his the kettle was whistling. That's exactly what he needed. He big steaming mug of tea. The rest of the family babbled on while he made it, but he could feel their eyes on him. There was definitely something in the air. There was tension there, he wanted to delay this chat as much as possible. He dropped two teaspoons of sugar into his mug, before pausing and adding more today was definitely a four sugar day.

He pulled up his hood, that combined with his long brown hair covered almost 90% of his face, his eyes obviously cut through the darkness and shone through. He padded over the table and set down his mug and looked at each of them in turn.

"Llew" his mother began. "We know how much you struggled at school and we want to make sure you have the best chance to succeed that we can give you. So we've been saving to send you to an excellent private school"

It was as though they'd dropped a bomb on his entire world. There were no private schools in the area. His peaceful, simple village dreams had been shattered in a matter of seconds.

Llewelyn nodded slowly "You don't need to do this....I...I'll be fine...I'll manage" he muttered from beneath the blanket of hair as he raised the mug and sipped the tea, he felt the warmth run down his throat and his body seemed relax abiet slightly.

His time his Dad spoke "Yes but thats the point. We don't want you to just manage we want you to thrive. We know you we selected this school with you in mind. Its in North of Scotland, North-West to be exact. Its quiet and away from the big cities." His dad gave him his classic small smile head nod.

Llewelyn took another sip and thought perhaps it would do him good to get away for awhile. He nodded slowly and muttered in his barely audible tone "When do I leave?"

This time it was his grandmother who answered "Tomorrow morning Cariad, it why we're here. You might want to start packing"

Llewelyn drew his sleeves down around his hands and cupped his mug of tea between his sleeved paws and stood up. Slowly he shuffled towards the door before turning with a question

"Oh what's it called?" He asked the hair falling away to revel his face.

"Yggdrasil" they said almost in unison.

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