Today, the golden cock which crows to wake the chosen dead in Valhalla was answered by his darker brother on the lintel of the halls of Hel. (This satisfied many, as the golden cockcrow has long been available as a phone ringtone, but nobody knew what the other cock would sound like: now you can get the set!) The host of forgotten dead crowded onto the boat made of dead men's toenails, as many as would fit, and set sail to meet their commander, Loki, and to join the war against the gods. Fenris, father of wolves, and Jormungandr, greatest of serpents, broke their bonds and entered the fray; Heimdall, watchful son of nine mothers, blew his horn when he heard the army in the distance, and the Aesir rushed to the fated battle.
The Norse were never an especially populous culture, but I am still told it was a spectacular show from most of Denmark, Sweden, and Iceland, with chunks visible from Britain (albeit obscured by heavy cloud cover) and from portions of Finland. The Baltic ran with warrior's blood, the cleanup of which is now causing concern among several environmental groups and the environmental ministries of the countries in question.
In the end, of course, all that vast host slew one another, Odin and Loki dying in one another's arms, Fenris and Thor destroying each other with fang and hammer, no living thing moving on the battlefield except the inevitably gathering ravens in the bleak stillness. The sun was eaten by the wolf in his death throes, meaning an uptick in electricity bills for the Baltic and North Sea regions for the foreseeable future, as there has been no timeline given for the birth of the new sun and the rise of high Gimlè.
Survivors include the two sons of Thor, Magni and Modi, already devoted to rescue and repair efforts; an ordinary couple whose home turned out to be the epicenter of the battle, called Lif and Lifthrasir; and the Vanir gods Njord and Skadi, who were occupied at the time taking selfies with various athletes at the Sochi Olympics. Dark rumors of the survival of the dragon Nidhogg, who gnawed the tree of Yggdrasil until it collapsed, also persist all over Buzzfeed.
I went to a coffeeshop and tried to work on my novel, since I knew I'd be too far away to see anything really spectacular. I hope this is our last fated and prophesied apocalypse for a couple of years, but one never knows.
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