[Present Day - Small Town Bar, Norway]
Elric sat in the corner of a rustic Norwegian bar, his eyes fixed on the most bizarre sight he'd encountered in a while.
Behind the wooden counter, serving enormous mugs of beer with booming laughter and infectious enthusiasm, was a tall, muscular man with golden hair and a smile that could light up the entire establishment.
This can't be real, Elric thought, barely suppressing the urge to check if he'd somehow fallen into a illusions.
The man behind the bar was Thor Odinson—Prince of Asgard, wielder of Mjolnir, and one of the mightiest warriors in the Nine Realms.
But something was very, very wrong with this picture.
First, Thor's landing location had changed. According to everything Elric knew about this timeline, Thor should have crashed in Mexico, not Norway. That part, he could accept—timelines were flexible, and you couldn't take everything at face value from baseline predictions.
But the second issue? That was far more disturbing.
Why does he look so fucking happy?
Thor laughed heartily at something a patron said, clapping the man on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. There was genuine joy in his eyes, unrestrained mirth in his voice. He looked like a man who'd just won the lottery, not someone who'd been kicked out of his home by his own father.
This was a man who'd lost his throne, his power, his entire identity as a god. He'd been stripped of everything that defined him and cast down to Earth as a powerless mortal.
There should have been depression. Anger. Despair. Something.
Instead, Thor was serving drinks and grinning like he'd never been happier in his immortal life.
Almost as if sensing Elric's intense scrutiny, Thor's gaze shifted toward his table. Their eyes met, and Thor immediately began walking over, dish towel slung over his shoulder.
"What can I get you to drink, buddy?" Thor asked with that same inexplicable cheerfulness.
Elric studied his face carefully. There wasn't a single trace of the depression that should have been there. Not even a hint of the brooding, sullen attitude he'd expected from a fallen prince.
What the hell is going on here?
[One Week Earlier]
After some investigation and asking around in various towns, he'd finally gotten a lead. One week ago, at the edge of a small Norwegian town, a "meteorite" had landed near an old temple.
At first, Elric hadn't taken it too seriously. Maybe some kind of unique alien metal had fallen from space. Unusual materials could be valuable, sure, but his own Yin-Yang Rod was far more useful than most exotic metals he'd encountered. He'd decided to check it out purely out of curiosity—nothing more.
That casual attitude changed the moment he arrived in the town.
There was a fair set up in the center of the settlement, and at its heart sat an unknown hammer embedded in the ground. Crowds gathered around it, taking turns trying to lift it while vendors sold refreshments and souvenirs.
It looked like a carnival attraction.
But when Elric approached and felt the violent energy fluctuations emanating from the weapon.
The fuck?
He recognized that energy signature. This wasn't some replica or tourist trap.
This was Mjolnir. The actual Mjolnir.
Which meant Thor Odinson was definitely nearby. There was no way Odin would throw Thor's hammer down in Norway and drop Thor himself in Mexico—that would be pointless and counterproductive to whatever lesson the All-Father was trying to teach.
Without wasting time, Elric had started searching for Thor himself.
In a small town with a population of only four thousand people, finding a six-foot-tall muscular foreigner wasn't difficult. Within hours, Elric had tracked down the basic story.
One week ago, at the edge of town outside an old Norse temple, a man matching Thor's description had been found unconscious by the local priestess. He'd been taken in, cared for, and apparently recovered quickly.
Elric had expected to find a depressed and broken man. Without Jane Foster to ground him emotionally—the astrophysicist who'd played such a crucial role in Thor's redemption—Thor should have been lost, angry, and drowning in self-pity.
But what the fuck is this?
This guy looked happier than someone who'd won a billion dollars in their sleep.
What Elric didn't know was the simple truth behind Thor's unexpected joy.
Yes, Thor had been depressed when he first arrived. The first two days had been awful—unable to lift his beloved hammer, stripped of his godly strength, reduced to a mere mortal. He'd sat by Mjolnir for hours, trying again and again to lift it, each failure cutting deeper than any blade.
But then something miraculous happened.
He tasted Earth's food.
Thor had visited Midgard approximately 150 years ago. Back then, human cuisine had been bland, tasteless, primitive. He'd eaten out of politeness but found nothing remarkable about it.
He'd expected the same this time.
He was wrong. Spectacularly wrong.
The first meal the priestess had brought him—a simple stew with fresh bread—had made him pause mid-bite. The flavors were complex, layered, incredible. The bread alone was better than anything he remembered from his previous visit.
Then came breakfast the next morning. Pancakes. Soft, fluffy, golden pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and topped with fresh berries.
Thor had actually cried.
Over the following days, he'd discovered bacon, chocolate, pizza, ice cream, pastries, craft beer, and dozens of other culinary revelations. Each meal was an adventure, each flavor a new discovery.
Somewhere around day four, after finishing his third helping of the local bakery's cinnamon rolls, Thor had experienced an epiphany.
Food is proof that Odin loves me and wants me to be happy.
His father hadn't just banished him as punishment. Odin had sent him to a place where he could experience joy, learn humility, and discover that happiness didn't require godly power—it could be found in simple pleasures.
Or at least, that's what Thor had decided to believe.
And honestly? It was working. He felt lighter, freer, more content than he had in decades.
"You are Thor, son of Odin, correct?"
The unknown voice jolted Thor from his cheerful mood. It was a familiar name combination—his father's name spoken with his own—but it should have been completely unfamiliar here on Earth. The locals knew him only as "Thor" or "the stranger from the temple."
He turned to look at the young man sitting at the corner table, who was now watching him with open curiosity.
Thor felt a sudden burst of joy surge through his chest. "Do you know me? Have we met before?"
"My name is Thor, son of Odin," he clarified, stepping closer. "Do you know me? Do we know each other from somewhere?"
The stranger shook his head. "No, I don't think we've met before. But you're quite famous in the universe, you know."
Thor's chest swelled with pride despite his current circumstances. "Obviously! Is it even worth being surprised? Asgard is the strongest realm in the universe!" He paused, then frowned slightly. "But wait—have Earthlings already started traveling to other planets? Just a hundred years ago, you couldn't even leave your own world. That's remarkably fast progress."
"No, it's just me," the stranger replied calmly. "I have superpowers, so I've traveled to various places across the cosmos."
Thor's eyes widened with genuine respect. "Oh! Traveling alone through the universe? You must be a very strong warrior then." He extended his hand. "I apologize for not asking sooner—what is your name, friend?"
"Elric," the man replied, shaking Thor's hand firmly.
Before Thor could respond, a feminine voice called out from the entrance.
"Thor! I solved the mystery! Come quickly!"
Both men turned to see a petite young woman entering the bar. She had light blonde hair and wore a pure white dress that looked like traditional Norwegian formal wear—likely ceremonial clothing for her role as temple priestess.
Thor's face lit up immediately. "Really? You deciphered it all?"
"Yes! But we need to go now—the light angle is perfect for the final sequence!"
"Excellent!" Thor started toward the door, then paused and looked back at Elric. His expression showed obvious conflict—excitement about the discovery warring with politeness toward his new acquaintance.
"Elric! Why don't you come with us? I would enjoy the company of a fellow cosmic traveler!"
Elric was intensely curious about what Thor was doing in this small Norwegian town, so he agreed without hesitation. Besides, this was shaping up to be far more interesting than he'd anticipated.
As they walked along the forest path toward the old temple, Thor explained the situation with characteristic enthusiasm, occasionally interrupted by the young woman's more precise corrections.
"I'm Eira, by the way," the priestess introduced herself to Elric. "Keeper of the Temple of Bor."
"So here's what happened," Thor began, his voice carrying easily through the quiet forest. "It was exactly like you've probably heard—if stories of Asgard reach across the universe. I went to fight the Frost Giants in Jotunheim without my father's permission. It was reckless, arrogant. We were defeated, and my father had to save us. Then, as punishment for my foolishness and for nearly starting a war, he banished me to Midgard."
"He stripped away your power and your hammer," Elric observed.
"Yes," Thor said, and for the first time, a shadow of genuine pain crossed his face. "Cast down like a falling star. But here's where it gets interesting—I didn't land in just any random location."
"He landed directly in front of the temple," Eira explained."
Thor nodded. "The Temple of Bor—named after my grandfather, Odin's father. When I first saw it, I thought it might be coincidence. But then, when I entered..."
"The runes activated," Eira continued. "They hadn't glowed in over a century, but the moment Thor crossed the threshold, the entire temple lit up with ancient magic."
"That's when I realized," Thor said, his voice growing more serious. "My father didn't just banish me randomly. He sent me here specifically. This temple must be the key to my return to Asgard."
They emerged into a clearing, and Elric saw the structure for the first time. It was ancient, weathered by centuries of Norwegian weather, but there was undeniable power humming within its wooden walls. Runes covered every visible surface, pulsing with faint golden light.
"The problem," Eira explained as they approached, "is that the runes are written in a combination of ancient Asgardian script and Old Norse—the local language from centuries ago."
"And here's the clever part," Thor added with grudging admiration for his father's cunning. "Asgardians have universal translation magic. We can communicate with all species across the Nine Realms, understanding and being understood automatically. It's not that we know every language—it's magic that bridges the gap."
"But these runes bypass that magic," Elric guessed.
"Exactly!" Thor confirmed. "The Asgardian portions I can read, but the Old Norse sections remain incomprehensible to me. And Eira can read the Old Norse, but not the Asgardian script."
"We need each other," Eira said simply. "He interprets the Asgardian runes, I translate the Old Norse passages. Together, we can understand the full message."
"And you've been working on this for a week?" Elric asked.
"Every day," Thor confirmed.
"But we finally have it," Eira said, pulling out a leather journal filled with notes. "The complete translation. We just need to verify the final sequence at the temple itself."
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