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Wahala in Valhalla – Part Four

/ Scribe of the Tword / 3 Comments

Disclaimer: This is not intended to be faithful to the myth or canon of any of the deities described in this series. If you are a stickler for the traditional origins and lore, this would be a good point to close the webpage.

“His name is Shango and he is trespassing. He does not belong here.” It was Heimdall, son of Odin and nine mothers, watcher of the Bifrost – the rainbow bridge connecting Midgard (the world of men) and Asgard.

“I would pronounce it differently myself,” Shango replied, “but, yes, I am Shango, son of Oranmiyan, the orisha of thunder, lighting and justice. And what are your names?”

Gasps echoed through the Great Hall, everyone shocked at Shango’s unknowingness and his impudence.

“You will bow to the All-Fathers, outsiders!” Thor thundered.

“We will not!” Shango thundered back. Not quickly enough though, for Eshu had already taken a knee in genuflection.

Odin smiled patiently. “Perhaps we should let him answer my questions, and the one Heimdall is undoubtedly bursting to ask. Where have you come from, Shango, what are you doing here and how did you arrive undetected even by Heimdall?”

“I am an orisha from the Yoruba pantheon. Orishas are not ‘gods’ but you may think of me as the god of thunder and lightning. In my pantheon, anyway,” he said returning Thor’s glare.

“Eshu, my companion, is our orisha of chance and mischief and he cloaked us with the likeness of your homeward souls on our journey.”

“He is the Loki to your Thor,” said Odin.

“I don’t know what you mean, apart from him over there being Thor. I am here to borrow his hammer, Mjolnir.”

Again, the gasps rang through the great hall.

“Outsider…”, began Thor.

“ – Shango,” interjected Shango.

“…how dare you utter that name and by what dark design have you come upon its knowledge?” demanded Thor.

“Mjolnir has been speaking to me since we arrived. I think it considers me a friend.”

“Do not vex me, outsider.” Thor warned.

“Again, it is Shango. I do not mean to antagonise you, especially as it is your favour in particular that I have come to seek.”

“Hear him out, brother,” encouraged Loki, who had heard the commotion and come eagerly to see what had so unsettled Thor.

“Thor,” continued Shango, “you see, I began my existence as a human man, of royal birth, and reigned over the largest empire in the land of my people.”

“You want me to lend my hammer to a mortal?” laughed Thor. “You’re not even a god, you’re an ‘orisha’ – is that akin to a demigod?” he teased.

Eshu rubbed his chest, signalling to Shango to reign his temper in. Shango took a deep breath and continued to make his case.

“All the kings who have taken the throne since me have been crowned in my name and at each coronation, I have imbued them with my virtues and power by touching my oshe – my double axe – on their heads in benediction. There is such another coronation today, happening right now, but my oshe is missing. Someone has stolen it. I only need Mjolnir for a few hours and will return it afterwards, on my honour. Eshu can remain here until I return, as a show of good faith.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, outsider. Anyone can wield your hammer, or axe, whatever, and you think you’re worthy of Mjolnir?” This time, all the Asgardians laughed with Thor.

Shango felt his palms tingling once more. He heard Eshu whisper again about containing his rage, but a louder voice was drowning out Eshu’s.

Call me. Mjolnir was whispering to him again.

Summon me!  The whisper grew louder.

HOLD OUT YOUR HAND!! Mjolnir commanded with urgency, and Shango complied.

As Shango reached out, to the amazement of Thor, Loki, Heimdall and all the Asgardians, Thor’s hammer detached from its belt and flew right into Shango’s grasp. Red lightning rent the air, searing through the skies and coursing through Mjolnir into Shango.

“OUTSIDER, YOU WILL PUT MY HAMMER DOWN NOW!!!”

“My… name… is… SHANGO!!!” Shango raised Mjolnir in the air and lightning flew once more.

Thor advanced towards Shango and Shango stood ready to defend himself.

*** TO BE CONTINUED ***

Wahala in Valhalla – Part Three

/ Scribe of the Tword / Leave a comment

Disclaimer: This is not intended to be faithful to the myth or canon of any of the deities described in this series. If you are a stickler for the traditional origins and lore, this would be a good point to close the webpage.

The edge of the ethereum was every bit as fantastic as Eshu had described to Shango, and the other world was indeed as heavenly as theirs, yet different. It shimmered but with a hue that varied somewhat from that of the orisha plane.

Shango eyed the chasm nervously. It seemed to be changing in size all the time, expanding and contracting in time with the vibrations of the cosmic energy in the atmosphere.

“What now?” he asked Eshu.

“We wait. Or we leap, if you think we can do it in one bound.” Eshu chuckled.

“We don’t have time.”

“Your precious Alaafin might not, but we do. I can’t cross in a single bound but perhaps the mighty Shango might, with me on his back.”

“Be careful with your mockery, Eshu. I may have misplaced my oshe but you still do not want to make me angry.”

“Our earthly followers have a saying.  ‘Anger is the father of hopelessness’ … your Alaafin has 3 hours until he is crowned. We can either go back to look for your oshe, which we may not find in time, or press forward to Thor, whose hammer may not retain its sacredness in our plane, even if he agrees to lend it to you. Either way, your rage, legendary as it is, solves nothing for now.”

Shango’s eyes flashed momentarily but he pulled back. Eshu was right. Besides, he needed Eshu’s stealth to get him close enough to this Thor fellow. He heaved a sigh and stamped with his right foot, rattling his ankle amulets, and settled into waiting.

It was fortunately a very short wait as just then, a path materialised in the void beneath the chasm. On the road, being drawn by two of the largest bulls Shango had ever seen, was the cart filled with the souls of men and women, on the way to the Great Hall. They seemed battle-weary but happy, many brandishing swords. They were also of different physical appearance to the men and woman that worshipped Shango, with straight hair and coloured eyes

Eshu reached out to touch Shango’s hand, and Shango drew it back sharply. Eshu smiled.

“It’s fine if you want to get into a fight on the way to Valhalla in your coronation raiment. Or you could let me sort out our appearance.”

Eshu put his hand on his own head and was instantly transformed. His skin and hair grew paler, his eyes turned blue, and his body markings changed, as did his apparel. “Your turn?”, he said to Shango.

They jumped into the rear of the cart and apart from a few questioning eyes, none of the dead souls questioned their presence. One eventually tried to ask Eshu what battle he lost his life but Eshu only grunted a gruff whisper.

The bulls came up to what looked like palace gates and a guard led the cart the remainder of the way. “Welcome to the courts of Odin, einherjar!” he greeted them. “Come and be received by the All-Father, and his son Thor!!”

“Einherjar?” Shango asked Eshu.

“How is it you understand everything else they’re saying and not einherjar?” Eshu responded, confused.

There was no time for Shango to answer, as the souls processed out of the cart towards the Great Hall. The doors of the Great Hall opened and out of the piercing lights emerged two figures, who could only be gods. Their auras were radiant, they emanated cosmic power and the younger looking one had a hammer hanging from his belt.

Shango’s right hand tingled as he felt the power of the hammer… the power of mjolnir. The hammer had a voice and the voice was inside Shango’s head. A whisper at first, but persistently louder. “My name is mjolnir. Who are you and where have you come from?” over and over again.

Thor and Odin heard it too. “Do you hear that, Father?” Thor queried, beginning to panic.

“You two!!” Odin bellowed, looking directly at Shango and Eshu. “Come forth!”

Shango and Eshu felt themselves being pulled towards Odin, unable to stand to firm. As they got to his feet, Eshu’s masking fell away and both stood there in their usual form.

Eshu cowered slightly but he was emboldened by Shango’s fearless gaze. Shango stood upright and looked straight at Odin.

“You dare look the All-Father in the eye?” Thor sparked.

“Who are you and where have you come from?” Odin asked.

******** TO BE CONTINUED ********

Wahala in Valhalla – Part One

/ Scribe of the Tword / 2 Comments

Disclaimer: This is not intended to be faithful to the myth or canon of any of the deities described in this series. If you are a stickler for the traditional origins and lore, this would be a good point to close the webpage.

It was a lovely night in the Ethereal Plane. Not “night” as mortals might describe it, for the deities had no need for the demarcation of time by the physical rotation of the ephemeral on its axis. And, indeed, what was time to those who lived outside of it?

Nevertheless, in a world that fed off the worship and adoration of men, there needed to be a semblance of order. Day, for when the supplications and sacrifices of the devoted rose up by faith to the orishas, and night for the tasks they needed to undertake to preserve, from the Ethereal, the things that kept the balance of the cosmos.

On this night though, Shango was preparing for the coronation of the new Alaafin of Oyo. He had been watching his priests making their preparations all week, efforts which would culminate in their proclamation of his blessings on the new Alaafin the next day.

No one else would see it except the Oluwo, but after the crown was placed on the Alaafin’s head, Shango would touch his Oshe – his famous battle axe – onto the new Alaafin’s forehead and imbue the new ruler with his graces, wisdom, justice and power.

His fellow Orisha never said anything, but he could tell a few were jealous. Yes, they received sacrifices from their devoted but these gestures were invariably for fleeting things. Money, favour, fertility and the like. Not a tradition that had endured for centuries.

He drank from his gourd, picked up his Oshe and started to head back to his chambers. He saw Eshu in the distance with the child-orishas at his feet, listening intently to every word that fell off his lips.

“Stop boring them with your multi-pantheon fantasies, storyteller!” he called out, laughing. “I keep telling you they are not fantasies,” Eshu retorted. “Little ones, do you know that Shango here is not the only axe-wielding thunder deity?” Shango felt the hair begin to rise at the back of neck. Not tonight, Eshu. Not tonight, he thought to himself and retired for the night.

A surge of prayers and incantations spiked Shango’s consciousness not too long afterwards and he realised the coronation was about to begin. He went into his vestiary to select his raiment for the day, settling on what men (more likely, women) might describe as burgundy robes with flashing white trimming and chartreuse hemming.

Feeling resplendent, Shango returned to his chambers for his Oshe but it was not hanging where he usually kept it. Thinking he might have absentmindedly taken it with him to the vestiary, he returned to retrieve it, but it was not there either. The deity of thunder was not known for being of measured temperament and started to bristle visibly.

He tried to feel the presence of the Oshe and have the Oshe call out to him and when that did not work either, he let out a cry of frustration, smoke beginning to pour from his nostrils. “WHERE IS MY OSHE???” he bellowed, shaking the ethereum to its core.

He could not perform the benediction without his axe. And a coronation without the benediction of Shango would be dire not just for him, but all the Orishas in the Ethereal Plane. Why? Because an Alaafin that was not imbued would be completely incapable of manifesting the mystery and divinity of and behind the throne. Without that, the devoted would begin to doubt. With doubt would come the fading away of the sacrifices and supplications. And if those went away, of what use would the orishas be?

Shango quickly summoned Eshu.

“I don’t have your Oshe,” Eshu protested. Shango ignored the protestations and looked Eshu squarely in the eyes.

“Did you say I was not the only thunder deity with a hammer? Is this the truth or one of your tricks?”

******** TO BE CONTINUED ********