Eric Flint - The Truth About the Gotterdammerung, Angielskie [EN](4)(2)
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The Truth About the Gotterdammerung
Eric Flint
Since Loki's alibi was airtight, suspicion fell on God.
"That Bum's always had in it for us," grumbled Frey. Thor roared and bellowed, splintering tables with
his hammer.
"Justice! Justice!" Valhalla rang with his thunderous basso profundo. As always, the gigantic hall was
packed with heroes, who immediately took up the cry.
"JUSTICE! JUSTICE!"
Then:
"Death to the Christian God!"
At these words, the hall fell silent. Men and gods craned to see who had spoken. A huge and
extraordinarily inebriated warrior clambered onto a feasting table. Several times, actually, before he
finally managed the feat.
Swaying back and forth, spilling great quantities of mead from a tankard, this worthy spoke again.
"Hear me, gods and heroes! I am Hunkred Thorvaldsen, called the Cropped-Head, and I am accounted
the fiercest berserk in my district! It was I who slew Gunnar Hairybreeks with one thrust of my spear
through his liver after he took his sword and wounded my third cousin Ingmar, called the Reckless, after
Ingmar cut off Gunnar's brother Harald's arm at the fjord with his ax after Harald killed my brother's
wife's uncle's grandson's dog after the dog pissed on his leg after Harald stole a bone from the dog at the
midwinter festival after the dog had seized it fairly from the feasting table after Harald's nephew Bjorn,
called the Ungenerous, refused the dog his fair portion."
Great applause resounded throughout Valhalla. Many toasts were drunk to the downfall of miserliness.
After falling off the table three more times, Hunkred Thorvaldsen resumed his wobbly stance and
continued his speech.
"Therefore do I, Hunkred Thorvaldsen, called the Cropped-Head, call upon the gods and heroes of
Valhalla to avenge the murder of our beloved deity"—here the berserk, sobbing tears, pointed to the
pallid corpse of the god Loki which was lying face down upon the floor of Valhalla, a knife sticking out of
its back—"and seek satisfaction upon the mangy body of God, called the Almighty."
As one man, the heroes of Valhalla leapt to their feet, tankards held high.
"DEATH TO GOD!"
The excitement of the moment was irresistible. Heroes seized their weapons and charged out of the hall,
led by the gods Heimdall and Thor. The former blew his great horn, the latter swung his hammer gaily.
Taking his place at the head of the entire parade was Odin, riding his eight-legged horse Sleipner. His
two great wolves, Freke and Gere, paced by his side.
Page 1
As the gods and heroes poured out of the great feasting hall, the goddesses and Valkyries hastily donned
their breastplates and rushed out to bid them farewell.
Wincing, most of them.
"Breastplates and fond farewells are a lousy match," grumbled Odin's wife Frigga, after the gods and
heroes were gone.
"You're telling me?" groused Thor's wife Sif, trying—gingerly—to pry her breastplate loose.
"Breastplates are a lousy match with anything civilized. At least your husband isn't a damned
weight-lifter."
* * *
As he led the procession across the heavens, Odin's expression was grim and stern, as befitted the
Allfather of gods and men. It grew grimmer and sterner at the words of the ravens perched on his
shoulder. Hugin and Munin, they were called.
"This is a bad idea," observed Hugin.
"A
really
bad idea," added Munin.
"Shuddup," growled Odin. "What do you know, anyway? You're just a couple of stupid birds."
"They don't call God the Almighty for nothing," pointed out Hugin.
"Omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent," added Munin.
"Not like you, Odin, who's just a—"
Odin's divine temper boiled over. His spear missed the ravens, although a few tail feathers went flying.
The birds cawed derisively and flew back toward Valhalla.
"Don't say we didn't warn you!"
"And they call us bird-brains!"
But Odin had no more time for impudent avians. Even now was the mighty host drawing up before the
Pearly Gates of Heaven, so rapid is travel through the outer planes of creation.
High atop the Pearly Gates stood the resplendent figures of two angels. The one on the left held a great
trumpet. Gabriel, his name. No doubt in the hopes of abashing the lout, Heimdall blew a mighty blast with
his horn. But even before the sound of Heimdall's horn faded, Gabriel was improvising upon the tune,
developing themes and variations which were not only dazzling in their divinity and awesome in their
cunning, but which also—especially the little riff which he added as a coda—exuded musical derision.
"O Heavens!" cried the other angel, Azrael. "We are besieged by a mighty host of flea-bitten
barbarians!"
"O, what shall we do?" sobbed Gabriel.
Page 2
The two angels convulsed with laughter. The assembled heroes of Valhalla bayed with fury. But at a
gesture from Odin, they fell silent.
"Stand aside, lackeys!" cried the Allfather. "Open the Pearly Gates! We've business with your Boss!"
Azrael sneered. "God's busy."
"Deciding the fate of the universe," added Gabriel.
"Not that it's really necessary," mused Azrael, "seeing as how He figured it out right from the start when
He made the whole thing. But He likes to check His work."
"A real precisionist." Gabriel.
"Not like some deities I could name." Azrael.
"And isn't that a good thing!" cried Gabriel. "Can you imagine the lopsided universe created by a god
with only one eye?"
The insult was too much to bear. With a great curse, Odin hurled his spear at Gabriel. Alas, he missed.
By quite a large margin, actually.
"Just like you said, Gabriel," giggled Azrael. "No stereoscopic vision."
Odin's curse was now joined by a multitude of others. A hailstorm of spears and axes was hurled at the
Pearly Gates. With no noticeable effect, alas, although Thor's hammer did produce an impressive
booming sound.
The ensuing comments by Azrael and Gabriel did little to improve the temper of the assembled gods and
heroes of Valhalla. They were especially affronted by the angels' offer to find Thor a job ringing the bell in
a cathedral, provided he agree to abstain from sin and grow a hunchback.
But their fury was suddenly stilled by the manifestation of an infinite Presence.
"Now you've done it," complained Azrael.
"God's here," added Gabriel. Quite unnecessarily, for the Presence of the Almighty is a unique and
unmistakable phenomenon.
WHAT'S UP?
(Quotation marks cannot properly be used to indicate God's Voice. He is, after all, Unlimitable.)
The charges against Him were babbled forth in an unruly and not entirely sober manner.
YOU THINK
I
STABBED THIS—WHAT'S HIS NAME?—LOKI CHARACTER IN THE
BACK?
An overwhelming sense of infinite amusement.
WHAT A BUNCH OF CLOWNS.
Page 3
The assembled gods and heroes of Valhalla suddenly found themselves attired in the ridiculous costumes
of circus clowns. Odin's mount was now an eight-legged elephant wearing a fez. His wolves were
poodles, yipping with rage at the absurd cut of their pelts. Thor's hammer was a rubber mallet, with
which, seized by an overpowering compulsion, he began hitting himself on the head. Heimdall's great horn
was a carnival noisemaker.
Other indignities followed, but there is no need to dwell upon them. Suffice it to say that the assault of
the gods and heroes of Valhalla upon Heaven turned out very badly in the end, even as foretold by the
ravens.
* * *
On their way back, slouched and miserable, Frey complained to Odin: "When you made yourself the
father of the gods, why didn't
you
assume omnipotence?"
"Do I look like an egomaniac?" snarled Odin.
"He's not the only Almighty, you know," came a voice. Turning, Odin and Frey beheld a slender but
well-muscled stripling striding alongside.
"Who're you?" demanded Frey.
The stripling swelled his chest. "I am Lothar Halversen, called the Skinny, and I am recognized as the
fiercest berserk in my district. It was I who slew Knut Ohtheresen, called the Heavy-Sleeper, after—"
"Forget all that!" roared Odin. "What did you mean—when you said God wasn't the only Almighty?"
The youth grinned gaily. "Oh, there's at least one other. Goes by the name of Allah. I heard about Him
when I was raiding in Spain. The Moors are some fighters, you know? Of course, that didn't stop me
from slaying twenty-eight of them at—"
"Shut up! I never heard of him. Allah, you say? And He's another omnipotent god?"
"According to the Moors, even more than God. And they say this Allah hates God with a passion."
Odin's grim face grew stern with thought.
"It's worth a try," he muttered.
* * *
And so it was that the host of heroes and gods of Valhalla came to Paradise, and sought an audience
with Allah. This they were immediately granted, without obstruction by insolent servants, for Allah runs a
strictly One-God show.
Alas, it went badly. No sooner had Allah heard Odin's proposal that He lead a charge on the Pearly
Gates than the universe was filled with an overwhelming sense of fury. Allah's voice filled the infinite void.
GOD'S A HERETIC AND AN INFIDEL, BUT AT LEAST HE'S NOT A PAGAN.
Page 4
And so saying, Allah visited a rain of toads and brimstone upon the heroes and gods of Valhalla,
followed by locusts and seven lean years.
On their way back from Paradise, the gods and heroes of Valhalla regained some of their strength by
eating the stripling Lothar Halversen, called—unfortunately—the Skinny. Such is the lot of those who
give bad advice to ill-tempered gods and heroes.
"Still and all," mused Frey, picking his teeth with one of Lothar's fingerbones, "the kid's general idea
wasn't bad. Just picked the wrong Almighty, that's all. But there must be one omniscient, omnipotent and
omnipresent Deity around who'd be willing to take a crack at the Pearly Gates."
* * *
And so it came to pass that the gods and heroes of Valhalla sought out the various Almighties for aid and
assistance in their quest to seek justice for the foul murder of Loki. Finding these Almighties proved
simple. True, the Void is infinite and eternal. But, on the other hand, it is in the nature of Almighties to be
omnipresent.
Finding them, therefore, proved easy. Obtaining their help, on the other hand, proved otherwise.
The interview with Yahweh went sour right from the start. The gods and heroes of Valhalla offered
Yahweh a feast of pork baked in goat's milk, with steamed shellfish on the side, and it was all downhill
from there.
"What does that Guy manage to eat, anyway?" grumbled Thor, as they crawled their boil-infested way
across the limitless desert into which Yahweh's wrath had cast them.
But it is well said of the northern gods that they are a stubborn lot, and so they persisted in their search.
All to no avail.
The Hindu Trinity couldn't seem to agree on anything, and Shiva wouldn't go it alone even though he was
all for the idea. The Buddha just babbled nonsense, and Confucius wouldn't stop droning on and on
about filial piety.
The time came when the gods and heroes gave up the hopeless quest and made their way back to
Valhalla. Imagine their outrage when they finally came home—much the worse for wear—and saw that
their great feasting hall had been turned into a Victorian mansion.
Odin stormed through the door, calling for his wife Frigga in a tone which boded ill for domestic
tranquility. But he didn't get far before he was confronted by a huge wolf, fangs bared.
"You're ruining the carpet!" snarled the wolf, who was—as all the gods and heroes immediately
recognized—none other than the great monster Garm.
"You're supposed to be guarding the Hel-Gate!" roared Thor.
A look of satisfaction came upon Garm's horrid visage. "Got a better gig," he said smugly. Then, eyeing
Odin's wolves, who were yipping at him fiercely, Garm announced that he was in the mood for raw
poodle. Freke and Gere immediately shrank back, wagging their pom-poms furiously.
"Out of my way!" bellowed Odin, who made to push past the great wolf. But Garm seized his leg in his
Page 5
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The Truth About the Gotterdammerung
Eric Flint
Since Loki's alibi was airtight, suspicion fell on God.
"That Bum's always had in it for us," grumbled Frey. Thor roared and bellowed, splintering tables with
his hammer.
"Justice! Justice!" Valhalla rang with his thunderous basso profundo. As always, the gigantic hall was
packed with heroes, who immediately took up the cry.
"JUSTICE! JUSTICE!"
Then:
"Death to the Christian God!"
At these words, the hall fell silent. Men and gods craned to see who had spoken. A huge and
extraordinarily inebriated warrior clambered onto a feasting table. Several times, actually, before he
finally managed the feat.
Swaying back and forth, spilling great quantities of mead from a tankard, this worthy spoke again.
"Hear me, gods and heroes! I am Hunkred Thorvaldsen, called the Cropped-Head, and I am accounted
the fiercest berserk in my district! It was I who slew Gunnar Hairybreeks with one thrust of my spear
through his liver after he took his sword and wounded my third cousin Ingmar, called the Reckless, after
Ingmar cut off Gunnar's brother Harald's arm at the fjord with his ax after Harald killed my brother's
wife's uncle's grandson's dog after the dog pissed on his leg after Harald stole a bone from the dog at the
midwinter festival after the dog had seized it fairly from the feasting table after Harald's nephew Bjorn,
called the Ungenerous, refused the dog his fair portion."
Great applause resounded throughout Valhalla. Many toasts were drunk to the downfall of miserliness.
After falling off the table three more times, Hunkred Thorvaldsen resumed his wobbly stance and
continued his speech.
"Therefore do I, Hunkred Thorvaldsen, called the Cropped-Head, call upon the gods and heroes of
Valhalla to avenge the murder of our beloved deity"—here the berserk, sobbing tears, pointed to the
pallid corpse of the god Loki which was lying face down upon the floor of Valhalla, a knife sticking out of
its back—"and seek satisfaction upon the mangy body of God, called the Almighty."
As one man, the heroes of Valhalla leapt to their feet, tankards held high.
"DEATH TO GOD!"
The excitement of the moment was irresistible. Heroes seized their weapons and charged out of the hall,
led by the gods Heimdall and Thor. The former blew his great horn, the latter swung his hammer gaily.
Taking his place at the head of the entire parade was Odin, riding his eight-legged horse Sleipner. His
two great wolves, Freke and Gere, paced by his side.
Page 1
As the gods and heroes poured out of the great feasting hall, the goddesses and Valkyries hastily donned
their breastplates and rushed out to bid them farewell.
Wincing, most of them.
"Breastplates and fond farewells are a lousy match," grumbled Odin's wife Frigga, after the gods and
heroes were gone.
"You're telling me?" groused Thor's wife Sif, trying—gingerly—to pry her breastplate loose.
"Breastplates are a lousy match with anything civilized. At least your husband isn't a damned
weight-lifter."
* * *
As he led the procession across the heavens, Odin's expression was grim and stern, as befitted the
Allfather of gods and men. It grew grimmer and sterner at the words of the ravens perched on his
shoulder. Hugin and Munin, they were called.
"This is a bad idea," observed Hugin.
"A
really
bad idea," added Munin.
"Shuddup," growled Odin. "What do you know, anyway? You're just a couple of stupid birds."
"They don't call God the Almighty for nothing," pointed out Hugin.
"Omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent," added Munin.
"Not like you, Odin, who's just a—"
Odin's divine temper boiled over. His spear missed the ravens, although a few tail feathers went flying.
The birds cawed derisively and flew back toward Valhalla.
"Don't say we didn't warn you!"
"And they call us bird-brains!"
But Odin had no more time for impudent avians. Even now was the mighty host drawing up before the
Pearly Gates of Heaven, so rapid is travel through the outer planes of creation.
High atop the Pearly Gates stood the resplendent figures of two angels. The one on the left held a great
trumpet. Gabriel, his name. No doubt in the hopes of abashing the lout, Heimdall blew a mighty blast with
his horn. But even before the sound of Heimdall's horn faded, Gabriel was improvising upon the tune,
developing themes and variations which were not only dazzling in their divinity and awesome in their
cunning, but which also—especially the little riff which he added as a coda—exuded musical derision.
"O Heavens!" cried the other angel, Azrael. "We are besieged by a mighty host of flea-bitten
barbarians!"
"O, what shall we do?" sobbed Gabriel.
Page 2
The two angels convulsed with laughter. The assembled heroes of Valhalla bayed with fury. But at a
gesture from Odin, they fell silent.
"Stand aside, lackeys!" cried the Allfather. "Open the Pearly Gates! We've business with your Boss!"
Azrael sneered. "God's busy."
"Deciding the fate of the universe," added Gabriel.
"Not that it's really necessary," mused Azrael, "seeing as how He figured it out right from the start when
He made the whole thing. But He likes to check His work."
"A real precisionist." Gabriel.
"Not like some deities I could name." Azrael.
"And isn't that a good thing!" cried Gabriel. "Can you imagine the lopsided universe created by a god
with only one eye?"
The insult was too much to bear. With a great curse, Odin hurled his spear at Gabriel. Alas, he missed.
By quite a large margin, actually.
"Just like you said, Gabriel," giggled Azrael. "No stereoscopic vision."
Odin's curse was now joined by a multitude of others. A hailstorm of spears and axes was hurled at the
Pearly Gates. With no noticeable effect, alas, although Thor's hammer did produce an impressive
booming sound.
The ensuing comments by Azrael and Gabriel did little to improve the temper of the assembled gods and
heroes of Valhalla. They were especially affronted by the angels' offer to find Thor a job ringing the bell in
a cathedral, provided he agree to abstain from sin and grow a hunchback.
But their fury was suddenly stilled by the manifestation of an infinite Presence.
"Now you've done it," complained Azrael.
"God's here," added Gabriel. Quite unnecessarily, for the Presence of the Almighty is a unique and
unmistakable phenomenon.
WHAT'S UP?
(Quotation marks cannot properly be used to indicate God's Voice. He is, after all, Unlimitable.)
The charges against Him were babbled forth in an unruly and not entirely sober manner.
YOU THINK
I
STABBED THIS—WHAT'S HIS NAME?—LOKI CHARACTER IN THE
BACK?
An overwhelming sense of infinite amusement.
WHAT A BUNCH OF CLOWNS.
Page 3
The assembled gods and heroes of Valhalla suddenly found themselves attired in the ridiculous costumes
of circus clowns. Odin's mount was now an eight-legged elephant wearing a fez. His wolves were
poodles, yipping with rage at the absurd cut of their pelts. Thor's hammer was a rubber mallet, with
which, seized by an overpowering compulsion, he began hitting himself on the head. Heimdall's great horn
was a carnival noisemaker.
Other indignities followed, but there is no need to dwell upon them. Suffice it to say that the assault of
the gods and heroes of Valhalla upon Heaven turned out very badly in the end, even as foretold by the
ravens.
* * *
On their way back, slouched and miserable, Frey complained to Odin: "When you made yourself the
father of the gods, why didn't
you
assume omnipotence?"
"Do I look like an egomaniac?" snarled Odin.
"He's not the only Almighty, you know," came a voice. Turning, Odin and Frey beheld a slender but
well-muscled stripling striding alongside.
"Who're you?" demanded Frey.
The stripling swelled his chest. "I am Lothar Halversen, called the Skinny, and I am recognized as the
fiercest berserk in my district. It was I who slew Knut Ohtheresen, called the Heavy-Sleeper, after—"
"Forget all that!" roared Odin. "What did you mean—when you said God wasn't the only Almighty?"
The youth grinned gaily. "Oh, there's at least one other. Goes by the name of Allah. I heard about Him
when I was raiding in Spain. The Moors are some fighters, you know? Of course, that didn't stop me
from slaying twenty-eight of them at—"
"Shut up! I never heard of him. Allah, you say? And He's another omnipotent god?"
"According to the Moors, even more than God. And they say this Allah hates God with a passion."
Odin's grim face grew stern with thought.
"It's worth a try," he muttered.
* * *
And so it was that the host of heroes and gods of Valhalla came to Paradise, and sought an audience
with Allah. This they were immediately granted, without obstruction by insolent servants, for Allah runs a
strictly One-God show.
Alas, it went badly. No sooner had Allah heard Odin's proposal that He lead a charge on the Pearly
Gates than the universe was filled with an overwhelming sense of fury. Allah's voice filled the infinite void.
GOD'S A HERETIC AND AN INFIDEL, BUT AT LEAST HE'S NOT A PAGAN.
Page 4
And so saying, Allah visited a rain of toads and brimstone upon the heroes and gods of Valhalla,
followed by locusts and seven lean years.
On their way back from Paradise, the gods and heroes of Valhalla regained some of their strength by
eating the stripling Lothar Halversen, called—unfortunately—the Skinny. Such is the lot of those who
give bad advice to ill-tempered gods and heroes.
"Still and all," mused Frey, picking his teeth with one of Lothar's fingerbones, "the kid's general idea
wasn't bad. Just picked the wrong Almighty, that's all. But there must be one omniscient, omnipotent and
omnipresent Deity around who'd be willing to take a crack at the Pearly Gates."
* * *
And so it came to pass that the gods and heroes of Valhalla sought out the various Almighties for aid and
assistance in their quest to seek justice for the foul murder of Loki. Finding these Almighties proved
simple. True, the Void is infinite and eternal. But, on the other hand, it is in the nature of Almighties to be
omnipresent.
Finding them, therefore, proved easy. Obtaining their help, on the other hand, proved otherwise.
The interview with Yahweh went sour right from the start. The gods and heroes of Valhalla offered
Yahweh a feast of pork baked in goat's milk, with steamed shellfish on the side, and it was all downhill
from there.
"What does that Guy manage to eat, anyway?" grumbled Thor, as they crawled their boil-infested way
across the limitless desert into which Yahweh's wrath had cast them.
But it is well said of the northern gods that they are a stubborn lot, and so they persisted in their search.
All to no avail.
The Hindu Trinity couldn't seem to agree on anything, and Shiva wouldn't go it alone even though he was
all for the idea. The Buddha just babbled nonsense, and Confucius wouldn't stop droning on and on
about filial piety.
The time came when the gods and heroes gave up the hopeless quest and made their way back to
Valhalla. Imagine their outrage when they finally came home—much the worse for wear—and saw that
their great feasting hall had been turned into a Victorian mansion.
Odin stormed through the door, calling for his wife Frigga in a tone which boded ill for domestic
tranquility. But he didn't get far before he was confronted by a huge wolf, fangs bared.
"You're ruining the carpet!" snarled the wolf, who was—as all the gods and heroes immediately
recognized—none other than the great monster Garm.
"You're supposed to be guarding the Hel-Gate!" roared Thor.
A look of satisfaction came upon Garm's horrid visage. "Got a better gig," he said smugly. Then, eyeing
Odin's wolves, who were yipping at him fiercely, Garm announced that he was in the mood for raw
poodle. Freke and Gere immediately shrank back, wagging their pom-poms furiously.
"Out of my way!" bellowed Odin, who made to push past the great wolf. But Garm seized his leg in his
Page 5
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