Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, guys!

Chapter Three: The Legend of Fenris

"Hey Abe," said Hellboy, once they were back to the hotel. "I got a question for ya."

Abe looked up from the unpacking of his books. "What's that, Red?"

"Does that collar ever bother you?" He pointed at the aquatic breathing unit around his partner's neck. It covered his gills and hissed softly every few seconds, circulating and oxygenating the water inside. "'Cause it would bug the shit out of me."

"Not really," replied Abe. "I'd be a lot less comfortable without it."

"Good point. Just wonderin'."

"And what about you, HB?" asked Liz, who was crouched down beside Abe and smoking a cigarette. The incident with the book had been forgiven; Hellboy could never be mad at her. Plus, he figured, he deserved it. "Your turn in the hot seat. You ever get sick of that right hand of yours?"

"My hand?" Hellboy sat examining it thoughtfully. "Well, I never really thought about it. I was born with it so it's not like I know what it's like to have a… well, a normal hand there, but it does get in the way a lot, now that I think of it. Kind of a nuisance, I guess, but it's saved my life a million times over. Makes combat easier, and walls ain't a problem. I guess the answer would be 'no'."

"Good answer," Liz smiled. She turned to Abe, who had selected a book and was leafing through it intently. "What's up, Abe? Find something?"

"Not yet," said Abe, "but I think I know where to start looking. When I saw those chains in Professor Cook's office it brought to mind a story in old Norse mythology, about three chains that had been crafted to restrain some kind of creature, but I cannot recall much else. It might just be enough for me to find something, though."

"Cool," Hellboy said, grabbing another roll from the basket. "At this point, that's good enough for me." Shoving the roll into his mouth, he crossed the room and sat down on his bed, which protested loudly. He withdrew the Samaritan from its holster and begun to tenderly and meticulously take it apart, cleaning every bit almost lovingly, his tail twitching with concentration.

Liz watched him for a long time with some amusement on her face, and then got up, one of the books in her hand, and went over to him. Leaning over slightly, she gave him a gentle kiss on the top of his head, behind his right horn. "I think you love that thing more than you love me," she whispered, and then laughed at the horrified expression on his face. "I'm kidding, HB, I'm kidding! Breathe, okay? Breathe!"

Hellboy scowled at her. "You're just doing that to distract me and make me read that book, aren't you?"

"Nah," Liz replied, opening the book. "That's me and Abe's job. You're just the muscle; for now all you have to do is sit there and look pretty."

"Fat chance, lady. I'm pretty all the time."

            ***

            Evening had fallen when Abe finally found what he was looking for. Hellboy had nodded off over the Samaritan, which was still in pieces, and Liz was propped up against his bed on the floor, her face hidden by a book. Every so often Hellboy's twitching tail would accidentally brush her face and she'd sigh softly, brushing it away. Abe suspected that she, too, had fallen asleep or was well on her way, and so he cleared his throat loudly and said, "I believe I've found something."

            They both came awake instantly, and Liz hurried over to him, peering over his shoulder.

            "Whatcha got, Abe?" grunted Hellboy sleepily.

            "It says here," said Abe, tracing his finger along the page, "that in old Norse mythology there lived a great wolf of terrible power who lived by the name of Fenris, born of Loki and the goddess Angerboda. The Aesir learned that Fenris was prophesied to be responsible, along with his family, for the destruction of the world, and so by order of the gods three chains were crafted by dwarven metalsmiths to bind the creature. Each chain was named; Loding, Dromi, and Gleipner, the last of which was nothing more than a strong, thin, ribbonlike chain that was as smooth as a silk ribbon, but it was the strongest of the three. The dwarves fashioned Gleipner from six ingredients: the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, bear's sinews, fish's breath, and bird's spittle."

            "Ew," said Hellboy indignantly. "I touched that thing."

            Abe glanced at him and continued. "Fenris was chained to a rock called Gioll deep beneath the earth, with a sword between his jaws to keep him from biting. There he was to remain, until the End of All Things; the Ragnarok, when he would take his rightful place amongst his family and destroy the world and its gods."

            "Sounds like someone let him out early," grunted Hellboy. "This sounds like our guy; the book describes that chain—Gleipner—pretty well."

            "I agree," said Abe, and looked to Liz, who had been listening in silence. "Liz? What do you think?"

            "I think," she said slowly, "that a trip to Przez Las is in order, right away. And we bring some heavy protection." She glanced at Hellboy's enormous pistol and thought of her own little one, packed in her suitcase. She hated firearms.

            "I would like, if no one minds, to pay a visit to Professor Cook and his friend again first. I'd like to have another look at those chains, just to be sure."

            No one seemed to have a problem with that—well, Hellboy seemed to have a slight problem, but then again he had a problem with everything—and they decided that upon the morrow they would depart.

            The three BRPD agents spent the night preparing; the Samaritan's cleaning was finished and it was reassembled and tucked into its holster on Hellboy's immense belt, which hung off the bedpost, amulets dangling. Hellboy began packing a heavy-duty duffelbag with handfuls of ammunition, an extra coat, and, to Liz's surprise, he furtively stuffed in a medkit when he thought no one was looking.

            But Liz was looking, and she went over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he looked up. She kept her hand where it was.

            "Why did you pack that medkit?" she asked quietly. "You never pack a medkit."

            "Just…got a bad feeling, is all. And it never hurts to be prepared; what if—Gods forbid—one of you got hurt?"

            Liz smiled, though not fully satisfied, and headed pack to her room to pack as well, stepping over Abe who was leaning over his dufflebag, carefully tucking in the book that contained the information on Fenris, extra warm clothing (Abe disliked extreme cold), and his own handgun. Separate backpacks containing bedding and rations would be prepared for each agent; the Polish government had made it clear that they would not be dropped off anywhere near the village of Pzrez Laz, so it would be a day or two of travel at least, as Liz had estimated by her map. All three were used to having to travel on foot, Abe and Hellboy especially (the amphibious man remembered Sweden with a shudder), so this revelation came as no surprise; they prepared the necessary supplies for it every time they were went on a mission. It was always a perk when they didn't have to use them, but Abe and Hellboy were seldom lucky when it came to easy, local missions.

            "Awright," grunted Hellboy finally. "I'm goin' to bed. I have a feeling you're not gonna want to sleep in tomorrow."

            "You know me too well," said Abe, who was pulling back the sheets on his bed. Liz had closed her door about a half hour ago; he assumed that she, too, decided to turn in for the night. He glanced at the clock on the wall. 2:34 am.

            "Well," he said, "here's to our last comfortable sleep for a while."

            Hellboy didn't answer; he was already beneath his slightly too-small blanket, fast asleep.

                        ***

            Hellboy was awakened the next morning by a biscuit to the head. Better than a book, he thought in retrospect. Whoever threw it probably didn't want a repeat of last morning's wakening, so he wasn't angry. Instead he groaned sleepily and shoved the bread into his mouth, swallowing it before he had even opened his eyes. When he finally did, he saw Abe and Liz readying their gear. Sighing, Hellboy rose and did the same.

            "We will leave from the museum and proceed straight to the designated dropoff point," said Abe, bent over his backpack. "While you were sleeping, Red, I received a message from the BPRD. I informed them of my suspicions regarding the events in Pzrez Las. They advised that we be quick about resolving this, and not to reveal our thoughts on the cause of the tragedy to the Polish government—Professor Cook and his parter included—until they give us the go- ahead."

            "Got it," said Hellboy as he strapped on his massive belt. It jingled loudly in the small room; a familiar sound, the sound of work about to be done. Despite himself Abe felt refreshed, energized, as he strapped on his gear and hefted the bags and backpacks that would be left in the car during their trip to the museum.

            They arrived at their destination an hour and a half later, and Abe rapped upon the door once again with the giant copper gargoyle knocker. At first there was silence, and then there came the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Presently the door opened a crack, and Mr. Yanivich peered out at them. "Yes?"

            "Good morning, Mr. Yanivich, said Abe, hoping that the young man was hearing him, as his gaze was settled on Liz. Thankfully Hellboy hadn't noticed. Yet. "We were hoping to be able to have another quick look at those artefacts before we depart to Pzrez Las."

            "Of course." The young understudy opened the door wider, allowing them entrance, and led them down the hall. "Professor Cook should be in his office, though I have not seen him yet this morning. He will be pleased to see you."

            "Thank you," said Liz, and he flashed her a dazzling smile. Hellboy noticed this, and his yellow eyes narrowed. A low growl rumbled from his chest, but no one noticed.

            When they arrived at the office all were shocked to discover the door ajar, several pairs of small, dirty footprints on the ground. They all stopped, stricken. There was blood mixed in with the dirt, and they looked at though they were leading out toward the outside door, but faded away only a few feet from the office door.

            "What the…" murmured Yanovich, stepping foreword, but was shouldered roughly aside by Hellboy. He was sniffing the air, and from the expression on his face he did not like that he smelled. He drew the Samaritan and held it ready at his side as the others followed him into the office…

            …Which had been trashed completely and thoroughly, as though someone had been searching for something.

            Professor Cook lay dead across his desk, covered with what looked like tiny stab wounds. He had bled out; there was a large puddle beneath him. The agents examined him closely while Yanivich looked on, his hands over his mouth, eyes bright with shocked tears. Then, slowly, he began rifling through the debris in the office, moving mechanically.

            "Hey," called Hellboy gruffly, and Yanivich looked up, startled. "Call the authorities. Be quick about it."

            Yanivich nodded slowly, and then in a soft voice said, "Should I tell them it has to do with the incident in Pzrez Laz?"

            "Why, what makes you think that?"

            Yanivich shakily pointed to the case where the chains had been stored. It was ransacked, destroyed; a ruin of what it once had been.

            "Because, sir," he said, "the chains are missing."