This story was written for the July “Let’s Write Together” prompt celebration by Fictionistas, and inspired in large part by the Norse Poetic Edda, specifically Alvíssmál.
Prompt: A person of a different size than most people is in conflict with a runaway over a camera that takes pictures of ghosts.
“Right, I see him,” Al said into his collar as he watched the sidewalk where a tall man was loudly advertising his latest product. “Proceeding now.”
“Come one, come all!” the man shouted. His voice carried remarkably well. “See Silky Marin’s latest exciting invention! Is your house haunted? Are you shadowed by unseen spirits? Are you just bored out of your tiny little human minds? Behold! The SpectreCam!”
He held it aloft for everyone to see. The effect was less dramatic than he’d hoped, since everyone in this case included a squirrel, two teenagers more interested in each other than in him, and a mildly curious police officer across the way. There was also Al, but the man hadn’t seen him yet.
“Please hold your applause,” the man said, even though there hadn’t been any. “The amazing SpectreCam will-”
“Knock it off, Silky,” Al said, emerging at last and coming up to him. “Show’s over. Wasn’t much of a show anyway.”
“Why, I don’t know what you mean!” Silky said. “I’m a humble businessman, just like anyone else. ”
“Yeah, yeah, save it for Asgard,” Al said. “I’ve got you dead to rights.”
“Oh?” the man said with a mocking smile. “You know, I remember you. Alviss, isn’t it? That’s the old name, right? Last I heard you were turned into what, a tree?”
“A rock,” Al grunted. “Not my fault. I was kept out in daylight. Didn’t have protective spells then. Ages ago.”
“A rock, of course,” Silky said. “I’ve read the stories. Several translations, actually; it’s even an audiobook, did you know? The tale of All-Wise the Dwarf, challenging Thor himself to a battle of wits because, what was it, oh yes, you fell for his daughter. Not so wise after all, were you?”
“It wasn’t my fault, Elf,” Al said. “And returning to the point, you shouldn’t even be here. You were locked up. Crimes against ravens, if I recall. Unspeakable business. The All-Father was very upset.”
“Yes, well, I got out and now I’m here,” Silky said. “Selling harmless little toys to the humans.”
“Not so harmless,” Al said. “Did you tell them what happens once you’ve taken the picture of the ghost with your little SpectreCam? Stays inside there, doesn’t it? Pretty soon they’ve got a whole camera full of captured ghosts, and what are they going to do then? What happens when they develop the film, Silky? Did you tell them that?”
The Elf smiled. “They’ve got a saying down here: caveat emptor, I think it is. Let the buyer beware.”
Al was just reaching for the knife on his belt when there was a sudden crack of thunder over his head. The Dwarf flinched, half expecting to be turned into rock again. Instead, however, out of a spray of white light stepped… her.
“Back away, Al,” she said quietly. She was carrying a shovel, which she hadn’t been the last time he’d seen her, but otherwise Thrud, daughter of Thor, looked every bit as lovely as the songs said. Every bit as he remembered.
“Why?” he said, for lack of anything else to say.
“Three reasons,” she said. “One: if you start a fight here in the open, in the eyes of the mortals, my father will find out, and he’ll find me. I would rather he did not. After he and you… encountered each other, and I learned what he had done, I had words with him. Then I left. Our parting was not cordial.”
“Secondly,” she continued, “I have this." She hefted the shovel. “It is Mlrning, the Shovel of Thor. One of the lesser-known relics, but it commands all the powers of winter. Also it can knock out even the sturdiest Dwarf at twenty paces.”
“Three…” Here Thrud paused and took a long breath. “Because I ask you to.”
Al considered for a long while. “Yeah,” he said at last, “But what about that thing?” He gestured towards the SpectreCam.
“Looks like I win, Al the not-so-wise,” Silky said, laughing nastily, “Or didn’t you hear your precious milking cow over there-”
THWAM.
Al looked from the fallen Elf to Thrud and back again in astonishment. She shrugged. “Mlrning can also knock out an Elf at twenty paces,” she said. “Or less.”
Thrud bent, picked up the SpectreCam, and crushed it in her hand. “I will see you another day.” The shovel flashed, and she was gone.
Al looked around; the mildly curious police officer was now on his radio calling for help. There was nothing else but to make a break for it. He spoke into his collar as he ran. “Yeah. It’s smashed. Didn’t get the chance to grab him, though. Yep, Thrud was there. Shovel too.”
He paused as he ducked past a tree. “Yeah, you’d have been proud. You should tell her that. Hey, I’m just saying. I know, I know, sun’s up in ten. I won’t forget that, not after what you did last time. Anyway. I’ll be ready to blast out in five. Let what’s-his-name on Post Rainbow know, will you? Thanks.”
Al kept on running into the shadows.
I liked the humor here. Though curious about the situation with Al, like what his job is and who he's working with, the ending makes me think it's Thor. Also anyone with crimes against ravens on their rap sheet needs to be destroyed.