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Back to the roots by Pent Ghelsburg

Disclaimer; The characters depicted in this work are purely fictional. Any resemblance to people alive or dead is purely a coincidence. Most are the rightful intellectual property of their cannon mythology, the protagonist is an original character created for the sole use of this story. I use them with permission and respect.

"Where you recognize evil,

and give your enemies no peace."

-The Havamal

The tree of life, Yggdrasil stands among the cosmos in all her glory. Her boughs and branches extend far and wide connecting each of the 9 worlds as the precipice between realms. Each of the denizens of the various worlds living lives in various states. Some in the perpetual state of war while others in the all too alluring enigma of harmony. But what really is the preferred state of the afterlife? Are people to strive for honor in battle or are they to fulfill some other life purpose.

For those of Midgard, the question remains an all-elusive one. The beings above only seldom frequented their realm and yet they remained forever present. Regardless the beings of the mortal realm stayed vigilant since they knew not when their coil would be cut and their life would be lost. However, while some of the almighty were feared for their vindictive nature the others were revered for their perseverance as forever entwined with their human brethren.

One of those who was often seen in an entirely different light was Ratatoskr. The "trickster" squirrel was often seen as a servant of Loki but in actuality, he had strewn himself from the service of the sometimes malevolent god. The critter had existed as long as the tree itself and supposedly had survived the first Ragnarok that shook the central worlds. Now in his twilight years, Ratatoskr had reserved himself as nothing other than a messenger, though there were times when his services were called for other matters.

In his youth, the squirrel had met many mates. Yet none of those fine dames had delivered him a child, until the last. It wasn't that he wasn't loyal but rather that his taste had brought him more mortals than the other gods. Eventually, a son was delivered by the midwives of his court to a rather private audience. Ratatoskr now felt like his job as the grand messenger and keeper of the great tree could finally be passed on.

It had been almost a decade since that day past and the demi-god squirrel aged fast into young adulthood. He renamed nameless for much of his youth but upon reaching maturity the sprawling yet rambunctious squirrel became known as Ragnar. His father deciding to name the boy after a man of a similar name from the 9th generation of Norse heroes. Like his father, Ragnar resembled the guise of a feral squirrel with predominately brown fur and a single stripe of black down his back.

His final trial into adulthood was in question. Unlike the other gods of Asgard, Ratatoskr didn't have any ascension in mind for his son. However, he knew something must be done or the boy would age into a quick death. So after consulting with Odin, he conferred a task where the young man would take up his mantle as the messenger. This was not something that could be done without a trial, so Ratatoskr came up with a suitable task that he'd done many times before throughout his life.

Ratatoskr called upon his son using the Gjallarhorn. He blew into it as much as his small snout would allow him and though to many others this resembled but a squeak it was more than enough for Ragnar to hear. Ragnar's ears perked as the unmistakable sound echoed through the inside of the hole near the top of the tree where he kept his home. It had been a while since he moved out of his parents but he was essentially on his own for the better part for the last year or two.

Ragnar perked up on his hind haunches before bulleting out of his home into the vast blue beyond that surrounded the core of Yggdrasil itself. It was a breeze day and the moment he stepped out onto the lip of his hole, he could feel the wind brush against his fur. He halted for a moment in order to enjoy a brief respite. It wasn't long before he heard the shrill beckoning of the Gjallarhorn resound through the surrounding mountains that encapsulated the great tree.

Ragnar sprung forward following the bark of the tree as it spun around its center. The brown skin of the giant ash tree. It was of a gnarly make so his claws were more than easily able to grapple upon it as he ascended up the grand elegance of the trunk. Occasionally he had to dart between branches as his father lived in the center as he did. Ratatoskr's nest was near the top as he liked nothing more than sunning during his off-time.

When Ragnar arrived at the small hole in the tree, where he knew his father lived, he peered inside. Just like his own home, there wasn't much to the accommodation other than a small bed of leaves and branches along with several bundles of acorns. Ragnar could see his father's legendary acorn glistening in the corner of the room. He had seen it throughout his childhood and only recently learned that the item was gifted to him by Odin for his service to Asgard.

Ragnar squeezed through the hole and decided to wait for his father inside. He wondered where his parents could be before he decided to take a look at the legendary acorn. It was the first time he had really taken a look at it and he found that it had several Nordic runes inscribed all around it. He could roughly translate it and understood it to say "Deliver to me, the message of the future." It was cryptic at best and he knew not really what it meant.

A moment after staring he felt a cold breeze behind him stir. Ragnar looked over his shoulder and saw his father appearing from an almost minuscule hole in the corner of the home. The older squirrel's body shifted with ease as it transitioned from the tight space to a less confined one. This was not the first time the younger man had seen his elder perform this act so it wasn't really alarming. A light blue light emanated from the man's form as he stood up to the fullest extent his body would allow him.

His father was slightly bigger than Ragnar, but it wasn't really enough to establish much of a size difference between the two. The blue light eventually died down and the inside of the hole returning it to a more natural ambiance from the daylight outside. His father began speaking to him in his usual low pitch squeaks.

"My son, I have called upon you this day to beset upon you a task of great import." The squirrel reached behind him and pulled a single scroll seemingly from nowhere.

Ragnar collected the scroll and unfurled it. "But there is nothing on it?"

"As it should be. Its story remains to be told. Shall I show you another?" Ratatoskr reached behind him again retrieving yet another scroll from the immutable void.

The younger man held out his paws awaiting for the other scroll to be delivered to him. Sure enough, his father did not budge and Ragnar expected some mischief. It wasn't entirely unlike him to play a trick on him when he was a boy.

"Look upon your scroll again." The man pointed to his son's hands which still held the same scroll as before.

Ragnar looked down and sure enough, there was now black ink scribbled onto its paper. He could not make out the words as the language seemed beyond his understanding.

"Such are the words of my first tale, of my journey from tip to top. So you must do the same, from Vedrfolnir to Nidhogg." The larger squirrel reached out and touched the scroll causing it to go blank once again.

The younger male blinked as the words vanished from the site seeming confused. "What?"

"Look into your heart. You know what is expected. Yggdrasil shall guide you to success. Listen to her and heed her words." Ratatoskr reached out and touched his son's chest.

A sense of warmth came over the younger man. Ragnar couldn't help but close his eyes as they felt heavy for a moment. The smaller squirrel felt a slight tingling feeling course through his body. Little did he realize that his father was conveying some of the knowledge that he'd learned over the years to his young progeny. All at once, he could hear whispers of an unfamiliar voice. It was feminine and soothing and some of what it said was rather muffled.

Ratatoskr stopped touching after a few seconds and the sensation died out soon after. Ragnar stood there idly for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. He heard the voice a second time, this time more prodigious than the last.

"Up and up you must go. To branches high and tree below. There the old eagle awaits." The dialogue was short and to the point.

The older squirrel smile as he knew the power of insight all too well. His son soon fell out of the trance-like state and his gaze returned to normal.

Ratatoskr reached behind him once more, this time pulling a small satchel for his son to adorn for the task. It was earthen in tone and made by Andari in the days of old. It's hide gifted by the old wolf Fenrir. Ragnar took the sash and placed it over his shoulder. He now felt ready for whatever was beset upon him. He felt like he could finally take on the world. Without another word spoken between them, the smaller squirrel flitted outside back onto the bark of the giant ash tree.

Ragnar felt the breeze upon his fur once more. He turned himself so that he was facing the upper part of the tree. He could see that the trunk laid before him for a great distance with a few branches that could be seen here and there. The vast majority of the foliage of the tree laid beyond and he could but see it only vaguely as a green-blue in the distance. Regardless, he knew this was the location in which he much travels.

Ragnar began pushing himself forward. Each time he moved he used his claws to continue to grip on the bark beneath him. He could see scratch marks that had been left in the past, seemingly by his own father. It wasn't nearly deep enough to be more obvious than the boring in the bark itself but nonetheless, it was still evident. He began climbing up the tree and the higher he got, the more difficult it became to breathe.

His heart rate was picking up as the rigorous physical activity continued. Sure he had climbed the tree plenty of times in the past but he'd never gone past his old hostel with his father. Ragnar felt energetic and as if his stamina had no boundary, as he pulled himself up the tree nearing ever closer to the top. It was a while before he reached the canopy itself. The leaves were a mixture of colors, though the most dominant was green.

Ragnar could now make out the faint smell of flowers and yet he saw no indication of blooms as he looked around. His gaze looked beyond him and he could now only see the clouds below him. He was high up and his heart skipped a beat after realizing that. The squirrel took a second to collect himself and took a deep breath. He continued surmounting the trees hoping he'd find a nest or something else to indicate it was the home of the legendary eagle.

As he reached the pinnacle of the tree, he could make out the stars above. He thought it to be strange since it was not nighttime as the sun was still very much bright. His body shivered as it tried to accommodate for the cooler air at the high altitude. A moment later he heard a loud caw which sent chills down his spine. Ragnar looked around, expecting at any moment for Vedrfolnir to come and swoop him up at any moment.

The squirrel looked all around and still saw no evident signs of the eagle. Another caw resounded through his ears, making him even more afraid that he was naught but prey for the bird. A few seconds passed before a gust of wind passed by, picking up some of the leaves from the canopy of the tree and strewing them about. Just then a brown and white feathered birdshot out from below him.

The movement of the branches caught Ragnar off-guard who clutched his claws in an effort to remain atop its peak. The bird soon emerged clear enough for the squirrel to see, its talons open wide before clasping onto a nearby branch to rest itself after a long squall. Ragnar could see that the bird's feathers were worn as if it had been through a tremendous storm. But to the messenger's son, it seemed like it was too good weather for that to be the case.

The eagle perched itself and peered down so that it could be almost eye to eye with the squirrel. Its gaze was piercing and the squirrel could see himself reflected in its pupil. Its focus did not remain fixed for long before its body was returned to an upright position.

"Ratotoson. I knew of this day and so you have come to bear my word." It was not uncommon for family members to be referred to by their parent's lineage than their own.

Ragnar nodded. "I have. What would you have me deliver?"

"A task. The wyrm assaults our lady. We must be rid of it, lest her roots wither to naught." The eagle bent down expecting the small rodent to mount him.

The squirrel shrugged in confusion. "So what do you expect me to do?"

"Come and all shall be clear." Vedrfolnir planed out his beak representing it as a sort of ramp for the smaller critter.

Ragnar understood this was no mere request and he was not about to leave here without accomplishing whatever it was that the eagle had in mind for him. The young man mounted the bird from his head and the mere moment his small body was upon the larger bird's neck, Vedrfolnir spread its wing and flapped but a single time. That fluid moment was strong enough to send the rodent reeling and clinging onto the avian's feathers in order to maintain his grasp.

Vedrfolnir sped forward as the surrounding area around them turned colorful. The hues were so bright that Ragnar had to close his eyes. Little did he realize that they were passing on Bifrost and into the beyond, a realm that very few saw. The eagle had done this more than enough times and it was always taxing on his form. Often she lost feathers in the ordeal, but this time she had a passenger and she had to be more careful than normal.

As if in an instance the light faded into the area before them. Ragnar could now open his eyes and when he did he found himself in a realm he had not encountered before. It seemed they were now in the belly of a castle. His surroundings were now of marbled stone that shone against an unearthly light. The hall they were in was almost completely empty and yet an echo of shrill voices could be heard bellowing through the chamber.

Vedrfolnir flew high above the ground and Ragnar couldn't help but look beneath him. His body was still very much plastered to the bird's feathers as the force it was flying was too much for his small body to handle. The squirrel could see the occasional spec flash beneath them but nothing clear enough to make out. Another few moments and the eagle came to a crashing halt as its talons met a familiar perch.

Ragnar raised his head, his body now much more relaxed than it was just moments ago. The squirrel's body was still shaking somewhat beset by fear. Vedrfolnir lowered his head so that his charge could dismount. Instead, the small rodent rolled forward his body poll vaulted in a ball until it came to a stop. The eagle cawed once more before recoiling its head but remained close.

The young man looked around. This particular area was darker than the rest. Dark clouds were beset around the area and the architecture seemed much more gothic and arcane than what they had come past. They still didn't seem to be on the ground, rather Ragnar found himself in an ashen nest. Burnt twigs surrounded smelling nothing short of ash and cinder. Touching it didn't exactly burn him, though it was evident something had nested here recently.

A few moments later and a loud shrill cawing sound could be heard bellowing all around them. Bolts of lightning struck around them as Ragnar crawled back, half expecting Vedrfolnir to protect him. The bird simply nudged him back forward. An explosion of black feathers occurred before long, reforming into a vaguely distinguishable silhouette of a raven. Was Ragnar seeing the visage of Odin? He couldn't be certain.

The black feathers remained ever flowing as if cascaded by a perpetual windstorm. The figure, larger than both himself and the bird behind him loomed in front. It never took full shape and remained someone visceral as they gazed upon it. It spoke in a deep and bellowing tone.

"Son of Ratatoskr. You have been summoned to my charge for an act of service. You must best the serpent below, lest the tree fall to ruin and all life be lost." Each time it spoke, the words were elongated and somewhat drawn out as if carried off from a long distant past.

Ragnar shivered as the request was uttered, afraid that the wyrm was beyond anything he'd ever seen before.

"Worry, not my son. You will not go unaided. We cannot go as he would expect us in this manner. You, however, would not be deemed a worthy foe." The raven-like shake began to spiral around in a tornado, causing the wind to shriek and strikes of lightning to sound nearby.

Ragnar couldn't help but close his eyes, half hoping this was all a bad dream. He was terrified of lightning and the whole situation wasn't helping his phobia.

Before long the storm began to die off. When Ragnar re-opened his eyes the form of the raven had dissipated just as suddenly as it appeared. Ragnar looked behind him once more and the eagle nudged him forward. The squirrel figured this meant some gift must have been left behind for him. Sure enough upon further investigation, he found a small black claw that had been detached from some creature laying there.

Ragnar picked it up and looked at it. It seemed much too small to really do any damage. Upon touching it he could make out a faint heat emanating from it. He palmed it and put it inside his satchel, figuring that he'd know what to do with it when the time came. He looked back upon Vedrfolnir who was now staring at him. The eagle's eyes were now lit with a blue fire and it gave the bird a rather haunting look to it.

The eagle's form remained fixed and unmoving as if it were now a statue. Yet, Ragnar did not feel afraid and approached it, expecting that he would be transported again to his next destination. As approached the bird, Vedrfolnir still made no apparent movement. The squirrel reached out to touch the avian and the creature's body was as cold as ice. As he touched her, the rodent found his hand to suddenly be stuck.

Ragnar began to panic and attempted to pull his hand free. Each time he did so was met with failure. He looked up and saw that the fire in the eagle's eye had spread. Some of its feathers had now caught fire and it seemed to be spreading ever faster. The rodent grew panicked as he continued to try to free himself. The flame continued to spread further and further. Before long the entirety of the upper half of the bird was consumed.

Before long the blaze reached his hand. However, rather than being hot as he expected the flame made him feel rather cold. He watched as ice solidified around his hand and continued to slither up both sides of his arms. Ragnar started to lose hope and his muscles were now giving out from the combined exhaustion from climbing and trying to free himself. The young man felt defeated and sorrow began to consume his soul.

Just then a strike of lightning struck right on top of him. Ragnar felt filled with warmth and energy. Now rejuvenated the squirrel fidgeted a single time causing the ice to shatter. The remaining molting of the bird disintegrated soon after, descending into a pile of ash. The squirrel looked at his paw to make sure it was not injured. It didn't seem like there was much indication of injury.

Ragnar looked around once more and wondered how he might get back to the tree so that he might descend it. Before he could ponder that thought for long he overheard what he thought was the familiar sound of horse hoofs pounding on the floor below. The clopping grew louder with each passing second. Looking around he soon discovered a horse riding towards him from the distance. Its grey visage was becoming ever more clear the longer he looked upon it.

A few moments later and the beast arrived at the side of the risen platform where Ragnar was idly waiting. It was far larger than the Squirrel himself and its eyes were shut as if it were asleep. The creature snorted and reared in front of Ragnar, all eight of its legs clearly in display as it showed off to the smaller critter. The squirrel wasn't entirely sure what to think but his instinct told him that this was the legendary steed of Odin, Sleipnir.

Sleipnir seemed restless as it neighed a single time, rushing forward with its head lowered and its mouth opened. Before Ragnar could react the steed had the small rodent in his mouth. The rodent immediately feared for his life as he was plucked from his relative area of safety. But Sleipnir did not bite down, rather he picked the smaller creature up as Ratatoskr had done to his son in times past, by the skin of his back.

Ragnar could hear the hooves of the beast stomp with each movement it made. However, upon looking down it didn't seem like they were moving across any type of solid surface. In fact, all Ragnar could see was the rush of wind and the occasional cloud beneath them. These clouds soon dissipated and were replaced by the familiar omnipresence of Bifrost. Ragnar had to close his eyes for that brief moment to protect his eyes from the radiant crossing below.

But that moment was but a split second. As soon as Ragnar closed his eyes, they were open again. He could see the familiar figure of the top of Yggdrasil. The eagle perched atop with its wings spread wide. A sense of confusion came over Ragnar, thinking old Vedrfolnir to be lost to the shadow but this obviously wasn't the case. Sleipnir made no attempt at stopping, making clear strides across the full length of the great tree.

Within no time the beast was at the base of the tree. Ragnar could clearly see the roots of her elegance and beneath it, an infinite voice spiraling into an indistinguishable space beyond. The young squirrel's eyes grew wide. Sleipnir reared his head a little bit and flipped the little rodent forward. It was a gentle toss but one that caught the small creature off guard. Immediately Ragnar began clawing into nothingness, believing that he'd been thrown into the void.

Sure enough, his body came to a halt, his bottom resting on one of the bottom-most roots of Yggdrasil. He could see the vines and root network of the tree and they were vast, spreading even further beyond where he could see. Looking back, he could see that Sleipnir had vanished without a sound. No signs of the beast remained as Ragnar now felt himself entirely alone. The squirrel re-arranged his satchel and wondered where he might find the fabled wyrm.

He began hopping to and fro across each of the roots, making sure to not miss a step. He knew that if he made a mistake that his mind ends in his own demise. The air here was much thicker than he expected and his surroundings were now becoming ever foggier as he worked his way around the base of the tree. Eventually, he made his way into an area where the mist was so thick that he could not see.

A vast roar echoed through the chasm causing the rodent to go sprawling back on his behind. Immediately Ragnar reached back into his satchel to find the claw he had been gifted earlier. He scoured the inside of the bag but could find nothing. Even peering into the sag, proved no evidence of the makeshift weapon. Another roar resounded around him, this time sounding much louder and closer than before.

A huge claw swiped forward and gripped the space beneath him. The root bent and Ragnar hopped with ease away from it as the stem broke off and cascaded away into darkness. The young man knew it was now or never. He wasn't about to step down and go back. He looked back and saw no signs of the wyrm before him, but he knew Nidhogg had to be there. After all the beast had just attacked him.

A moment later the tail of the foul fiend smashed behind him, rebounding off the base of the tree and repelling back into the open void. Ragnar didn't even have to move as the appendage had missed its mark. He laughed and decided to wait for it to make its move again. It wasn't long before the wyrm lashed forward, this time coiling its entire silver body around the core of the tree in hopes of encapsulating its prey.

Yet again Ragnar found it to be off-target. The squirrel leaped towards it this time, the huge tubular scaled body laying there as if stunned for a moment. The rodent was quick enough to make a landing before it moved again. Now feeling Ragnar moving on top of it, Nidhogg thrashed. The young squirrel clawed forward in an effort to maintain his grasp. The mere scratching of his foe causing the wyrm to scream in misery.

A shrieking roar echoed through the chasm as the movements became more erratic. Ragnar could see smoke pouring out of the area where his claws had sunk in and decided to pull back a little bit. One of the scales of the wyrms skin peeled back a bit, revealing the light pink flesh beneath. Ragnar struck forward once again digging his strongest claw right into the open wound.

Nidhogg whimpered and the movement began to falter as the body's strength began to fail. Eventually, it came to a stop and Ragnar could hop off from where he was still holding onto. He looked at his hand, a black stain in one of his claws. This one resembled the gift from earlier. A smirk crept across his face as pride began to billow inside him. Looking back, he saw no signs of the body of the wyrm. Had it slithered away? He couldn't sure but there didn't seem to be any signs of it.

Ragnar began his travel back up the trunk of the tree. He was tired but the adrenaline of the moment carried him ever onward. He felt like he had done the world a great service but part of him thought that he'd see the beast again. The smell of fresh dew grew increasingly apparent as the tree seemed to be more full of life than when he had climbed it before. The young man continued to launch himself forward, excited to see his old man once again.

When he returned to his father he learned that the task was one that the older squirrel had done countless times before. Ratatoskr shared with him that Nidhogg was timeless and reborn infinitely. The older squirrel reminisced with his son sharing some of his tales, some of which his son remembered from bedtime stories he was told as a child. Ragnar started to understand some of the importance of his father's work.

The older squirrel appreciated the youth's tenacity in the task and hugged him tightly in order to show his appreciation for his cooperation. Ragnar smiled as he felt he had gained the respect from the man whom he had followed in the shadows of all of his life. Ratatoskr offered his paw out in a handshake.

"And so we shall, together and forevermore back to the roots and beyond." The man shook his son's paw.

A sense of ease fell over the younger adult, glad that he'd be shown the way a little more. It seemed like that they'd be working together after all. A dream come true to be sure.