But You Call Me Thor
Introduction
My name is Thorodinsonjordson (Thor odin son jord son). But you call me Thor.
My father's name is Odinborrsonbestlason (Odin borr son bestla son). But you call him Odin.
And my mother's name is Jordnóttdaughteranarrdaughter (Jord nótt daughter anarr daughter). But you call her Jord (or Yord).
(Our names are not exactly what I just told you. They are translated into English from my language. And while they may look strange, they are not so far from Joejohnson – Joe john son.)
We are not from this earth, as you might have guessed, but from a distant world you know as Asgardofthenineworlds ( . .worlds). Six of us came here on an exploratory visit (one of many such explorations of many worlds) thousands of years ago. But when it was time to leave, I decided I wanted to stay. Humanity had long taken its first steps out of the continent known as Africa, and had spread outward into new lands. And I was curious to see how they would develop. I wanted to observe the various civilizations that would develop, and to see if they would flourish in light of the fact that the entire northern hemisphere was in the grip of the latest (and last) Ice Age.
So, against my companions' wishes and advice, I decided to remain, mostly to watch. But if necessary, occasionally helping out in times of disaster, or other small life threatening events. (And no, I never used my abilities to fight in any wars, regardless of who was in the wrong, because many technological advances occur during times of war.)
And yes, I do have the fabled hammer, named Mjölnir by the Vikings (who I lived with for a time). And its powers are much as depicted in mythology (also in modern-day comic books and movies).
When deciding to stay, I realized I should have some kind of tool or weapon "just in case". And I decided a hammer of some form would be the most useful. The hammer, when first created, was a luminous whitish color, similar to milk glass, but I changed its appearance to look more like a human tool, with a gray, metallic head, a wood-colored handle, and a leather-looking strap.
The handle is the connection I have with the hammer. Much like that between a smart phone and the Blue-tooth earpiece, my mind is connected to the "transceiver" located within the handle which allows me to control it. It is the head that contains the majority of the technology that makes it work. But the science behind its powers are at least a thousand years ahead of today's science. Its source of power is a radioactive metallic ball, about the size of golf ball, that will last 100,000 years. The metal is not found on earth, since it was artificially created.
In order to create mini-earthquakes, and shock waves, when slammed to the ground, or to allow me to fly, the hammer contains a miniature, but very powerful gravity/anti-gravity generator. And when I want it to come to me, I only have to hold out my hand and it senses where I am and immediately flies to me. I also can control its speed – as slow as that of a walking man to over a hundred thousand miles per hour.
It also contains what you might think of as a battery that can absorb the ever present free electrons in the atmosphere, and then release them at my discretion. The hammer can produce an electrical discharge similar to a lightning strike, anywhere from fifteen to one hundred million volts; whatever is needed. Of course I can control just how much is expelled, from being able to light a match to completely destroying something on the order of a full grown Sequoia, the most massive tree that ever lived. And I also am able to control the sound – the thunderbolt, from almost silent, to the loudest sound ever created (excluding a nuclear explosion – which, by the way, is the only thing that can destroy the hammer).
Not only being long-lived, I also am immune to illnesses and, for the most part, invulnerable to physical damage. During the Middle Ages I was struck with a lance by a charging, mounted knight, and the tip penetrated my upper chest near my shoulder about three inches (which hurt like hell!). But as soon as it was removed, healing took only seconds.
Modern day weapons – large caliber machine guns, RPGs, and such, can do far more damage to me, but not to the point of actually killing me. But the recovery time can take days rather than seconds.
And so, I have been lived on this planet, off and on, for many thousands of years. The following narrative describes the first of the many adventures and events with various peoples I have encountered.
The Tribe of Hunters
1
When we seven first arrived here, we came to the south of the planet. The northern hemisphere was covered with sheets of ice almost a third of the way toward the equator. The southern part of the planet, mostly ocean, didn't have the extensive ice coverage as the north did. So we started at the south pole and made spiraling orbits, gradually making our way northward. It wasn't until we were well north of the equator did we find signs of human life. As we studied it, we realized there were two distinctively different races. One was what is now called the Neanderthals, and the other akin to modern humans. And while there was some interaction, and even cross breeding, for the most part they stayed apart.
(And contrary to modern thought, Neanderthals were not the slow, brutish, ape-like creatures so often depicted.)
And since it was obvious the Neanderthals were less likely to survive than the more technologically advanced homo sapiens, when I decided to stay on Earth, it was with the humans I was going to be with (plus, the fact that with their sloping skulls and larger jaws, I looked nothing like the Neanderthals, and would be unacceptable to them).
After my companions reluctantly left, with instructions to contact Heimdallr whenever I decided to return to my home planet (using the hammer, of course – another one of its powers), and after some time of observation, I decided to join a group, tribe, whatever the name, of humans who lived forty or fifty miles south of a five-mile high glacier in what later would become northern France.
It wasn't hard to make myself look as they did – dressing in furs and pelts, and carrying a flint-tipped spear and several flint knives. I decided the best way to join them was to bribe them with food. It was late summer and winter was fast approaching, and more fresh meat would be a welcome addition to their stores of dried and smoked bison, antelope, horses, and the woolly mammoths.
Using my hammer I killed a half-grown Irish elk, about 700 pounds, then used the spear to penetrate the chest to the heart, making it appear as if I had killed it with the spear. I then using rawhide rope, I strapped it to two long saplings as a makeshift, human travois. I wasn't sure if they used them, but I figured it couldn't hurt to help out a bit with a new idea. I could have carried it on my shoulder with ease, since my strength is about ten to fifteen times that of a human. But then I wouldn't have been able to "blend in."
Using the travois, I believed any healthy man could have transported a 700 pound animal, so when I came into sight of the camp of the people I intended to join, I hoped it wasn't that unusual. What was unusual was that I was there at all – a single individual, alone, and dragging a dead animal behind me. And, by the way, I left my hammer buried under a pile of rocks and boulders about a mile away.
The camp totaled ten adult males and eight females, and six infants and children of various ages and sexes. And when they saw me, the women and children hurried to get behind the men, who brought out spears and warily watched me approach, in case I might be an evil spirit trying to win my way into their midst with a gift of food. (Another "power" I have is the ability to understand and speak any language after only a short time of hearing it, and I had been watching them for several days.) I decided to speak their language brokenly, as if I only had a rudimentary knowledge of it.
When I was about twenty yards from them, I stopped and raised one hand. "Greetings," I said, sounding as if I were nearly exhausted. "Need shelter. Trade for food."
I then explained to them, brokenly, that the I had been hunting with several men, but we separated to try to find prey. And after I made my kill, I couldn't find them, and was still searching when I got to their camp.
It was less than two hours until sunset, and even though it was still in the mid 40s F. (getting about 50° during the day - balmy for this location and time of year), the nights would see the temperature drop to near zero. And even though they were suspicious of me, they also knew I would surely die with no shelter. And welcoming the fresh meat, I was allowed to stay the night, which eventually turned into the entire winter – about 5 months.
Once I was relieved of the elk and the butchering began, the leader of the tribe began the introductions, starting with my name. Of course I told him 'Thor'. He said his name was Ivorson (son of Ivor). On one side of him was his mate, Avila. On the other side was what only could have been the medicine man, who was only known as Healer. His face was painted, he had tattoos on his neck, and he was adorned with shells and the teeth of prey animals. The hide of a wild boar comprised his only clothes. Eventually, over the next few days, I was introduced to all of them. The men averaged five foot 9 or 10 inches, and the women about five foot 5 or 6. I am five foot 10 inches inches.
It didn't take long before the elk was almost bare bones. Everything was used, including most of the bones, which contained fat-rich marrow, as well as the hide, the meat, tendons and ligaments, the internal organs and even the brain. Almost everything had a use.
Their home was situated on the top of a small rise next to a flood plain. There was a small stream eight feet across about 40 yards away that froze over in the winter, but in the spring, with the thawing of the snow, it became a raging river. In the meantime, it was a convenient source of water. They had chosen the location just for that reason.
Their home, or lodge, was tent-like made almost entirely of mammoth hide. It was shaped like a cone cut in half longways. The opening was about ten feet across and ten feet tall, but it was almost thirty feet long, tapering down toward the rear end. The internal structure was 90% mammoth bone, with very little wood (the nearest stand of useful trees was almost two days away). The open end faced south, and the tapered shape gave it stability against the harsh north-blowing winds. As I was to later find out, the covering was made of two layers of mammoth hides sewn together with the hair sides inward – almost six inches of insulation, and formed a waterproof outer covering and a smooth inner layer. A similar arrangement was used to cover the open end, and could be tied with cordage of hide to keep it closed. The bottom of the lodge was about three feet below grade and the outside had been covered with rocks then soaked with water to form stone hard ice to keep it from blowing away.
There was an opening above the communal fire to allow smoke to escape, but could be closed if the winds got to be too much. The six families each had their own places where they slept and kept their belongings. The rearmost section was where the food was kept: dried greens, herbs and grains, smoked and dried meats, and hides. The temperature there usually stayed five or ten degrees above freezing – cold storage.
Since I was a stranger, I was shown to a place halfway back, away from the fire, but warm enough. There already were furs left on a raised bed, to keep people off the ground. After Ivorson showed me where to stay, I couldn't help but overhear a somewhat heated conversation (my hearing is three or four times as good as theirs) if I should be there. Turns out, the last person to use it was killed during a bison hunt, and it was considered bad luck for someone to sleep there for a few months (moons) afterward, but I wasn't sure if it meant bad luck for me or for the tribe. Eventually Ivorson had his way.
The butchering was done by sunset and everyone was inside and the front cover flap was closed and secured. Most of the meat was being smoked over the communal fire, but some was being cooked for supper. When it was ready, Ivorson brought over my share – part of the liver and and rear haunch, since I was the one who provided the food. But he didn't stay long enough but to state his appreciation, and I got the impression that come the morning I would be expected to go my way.
But during the night a late autumn storm blew up, which lasted two more days, which I why I ended up staying longer that they had planned. After eating, I lay down on the bed, staying as invisible as I could. Soon I was mostly forgotten and everyone went on with their usual activities. As I lay there, listening to the various conversations, I learned quite a bit about them. Except for one woman, named Langa.
She seemed to be part of the family headed by Tionson. (All males are named after their fathers, and have "son" tacked onto the end. When a son is born, the father's "son" is removed from his name and given to the son. So when Tionson has a son, he will be called simply Tion, and his son will be Tionson.). Tionson's pregnant wife was Uly, and they had a two year old daughter. At first I thought that Langa might be a sister to either Tionson or Uly, or possibly the widow of the man who was killed and whose bed I was in. But both guesses were wrong. After some time I eventually pieced together the story.
In late summer, several of the tribes gather together for several days to trade, to tell stories, to share new techniques for hunting, and to find wives and husbands. Since so many of the members of the tribes are related, this is a way to keep from having to mate with siblings or cousins. Tionson and Langa were bonded then she returned with him. But by the time of the next summer meeting, she had not gotten pregnant, so he took Uly as his first wife, making Langa the second wife. Uly became pregnant almost immediately, had a daughter, and was pregnant again.
So Langa was relegated to second class status. She pulled her weight as far as cooking, gathering grains and roots, and cleaning and tanning the fresh hides. But she was more like a servant than a wife to Tionson. And only when Uly was pregnant and close to term did Tionson have sex with her, to satisfy his needs.
As time went on, more and more she was ordered to bring my food and water to me. At first it was only because she was ordered to, but because I smiled at her, and spoke to her, did she begin to stay longer, which suited both Tionson and Uly, except when she was expected to wait on them. Langa wasn't what might be considered as pretty, but she was pleasant enough to look at. Like the others, she had pale skin, long brownish blonde hair, and brown eyes, and was about 5' 4", average for women of the time.