Brynhild awakes by Tanninuser, bard of Caffeinusberg A rite of Onan, performed in adoration of the Valkyrie's biceps. I Dr Leo Sigurdsen was not a man accustomed to dealing with emergencies, his training as a scholar of Old Icelandic having prepared him for nothing more strenuous than negotiating with irate librarians over his overdue books (though such encounters were not to be sneezed at). Consequently, being suddenly forced to deal with the fact that the building was on fire placed him in something of a difficult situation (the more so in that there was no sign of anyone else in the vicinity to whom he could turn for help). Exactly how the fire had started was a mystery. Having stayed behind at the Institute to work late, as was his practice when involved in a difficult case - in this instance trying to authenticate a fragment of seemingly genuine Eddaic verse unearthed near Troldhagen, he was apparently quite alone in the building and had heard no sound for several hours. The first he had even known of the situation was when the smoke became thick enough to distract him from his intense concentration. Startled, he had rushed into the adjacent corridor to find it brightly lit by leaping flames. Calling for help didn't seem to have achieved much and the only option that now remained was to get out as quickly as possible and then try to raise the alarm. Starting off as quickly as he could then, he began to head in the direction that seemed most free of smoke - only to realise with a sudden horrible shock that he had forgotten the manuscript! Turning back, he could see little that was not obscured by the raging furnace behind him. Hesitating, he wondered if he dared risk it. Great gouts of flame spat and crackled angrily and the heat of it reached him even where he stood. He was, he had to admit, not a physically courageous man. Quite the reverse in fact. Actually, he got quite nervous just trying to cross the street most days. But this was his life's work at stake, the final piece in a puzzle he had been trying to solve for seventeen and a half painstaking years of selfless study and the possible chance of a Nobel Prize - and all about to go up in smoke! He couldn't help himself. With a sort of strangled bleat, he forced his quaking legs back down the corridor, shielding his mouth with a threadbare paisley handkerchief, and dove frantically back into the now searing heat of the lab - and there it was! Like an island in a sea of flame, the precious manuscript still lay unscathed on top of the desk where he had been working. But he was too late. Just as he prepared to dash in and seize it, the doorframe collapsed in a flurry of sparks, bringing the heavy oak lintel thundering down on his defenceless shoulders. Struck down, he began to whimper in panic, already feeling the flames streaming over him. Too paralysed with fright to react, he felt his whole body engulfed in an instant in the unbearable, unimaginably painful agony of the fire and his consciousness passed blindly into the white-hot heart of the blaze. II Dimly, as if from a great distance, Leo emerged into the present once more. He was aware of a great, almost profound, stillness. At first merely confused, he gradually recalled fragmented recollections of the fire and so concluded, logically enough, that, wherever he had ended up, he had to be dead - particularly since it didn't hurt any more - and, if he had survived the burning, his recovery would surely be attended by continued agonies. Not particularly believing in any afterlife as such, though, did leave him feeling a little uncertain as to where exactly "here" might be. Aware only that he was lying face down on a cold hard surface, he slowly lifted his head and began to look round him. To start with, this did not improve matters much, as it was extremely dark and the surface appeared to be nothing more remarkable than a flat, slightly uneven slab of rock. He thought, perhaps, it might be the surface of a distant planet (but then he was still dizzy from shock). After a moment or two, he forced himself to confront his new situation, whatever it might be, and accordingly raised himself to a kneeling posture and from there, a little unsteadily, to his feet, blinking in surprise as he did so. The strange and yet hauntingly familiar place in which he found himself was a wide circle of bare rock, some fifty yards or so in diameter, dimly lit by a faintly flickering deep red glow that was directed on all sides from some point beyond and somewhat below the rim. Overhead, the vast black expanse of the sky was all that could be seen, dotted with faint stars. They looked endlessly remote and very, very old, as if they were only the memories of constellations long since vanished. Finally, in the centre of the ring, lay a raised stone slab like an altar and on this, so far as he could make out in the dim light, a human figure was lying at full length, clad in some bright metallic gear that reflected the glow of the firelight. Standing there, strangely unharmed as he was, and seeing all this for the first time, Leo felt a deep awe stealing over him, aware instinctively that he was in the presence of some timeless mystery. Bracing himself, he stepped slowly forward, mastering his tremulous breathing as he did so, and, as he saw the silent figure on the slab more clearly, astonishment broke over him like a rushing wave. His heart began to pound dangerously fast - but he never stopped to question whether this meant he was alive and well after all, since he could think of nothing whatsoever but the glory and the radiance of the sleeping Valkyrie. III Leo recognised the scene perfectly of course: the magical slumber of Brynhild, from which she was powerless to awaken until a man should come and claim her as his bride. And here, as luck would have it, he was - but why? If he had perished in the flames and this scenario (which must have become rooted in his subconscious from all those years of studying it) was his eternal reward - why did it not conform to the myth? The sleeping Brynhild awaited a living man; the dead were taken by her waking sisters to everlasting feasting in Valhalla. And then there was the painfully embarrassing fact that, in either event, he was hardly suited to the role. Inevitably, it seemed, those who knew most about the heroes of Germanic folklore were absolutely nothing like them. Pale and bespectacled, in fraying tweeds, with a slight stoop from all those late nights of sitting hunched over some weighty tome or other - how could anyone mistake him for a robust Volsung, a Fafnisbane? Even while these thoughts were moving through his troubled brain, Leo's gaze remained fixed on the mesmerising figure of the sleeping woman before him. She was, appropriately, quite magnificent and of statuesque proportions, lying at her full length of nearly seven feet upon the scarlet cape that fastened by a chain of bronze about her neck. Apart from this, she wore little: the obligatory breastplate, moulded to accommodate her ample bosom, a rather tarnished bronze, reflecting the firelight with a fierce yet muted glow; a rough kilt of bearskin, gathered at the hips; leather buskins; and, of course, the helmet, actually little more than a small bronze cap but crowned by a majestic spread of raven's wings - almost four feet across. Belted at her side lay a broadsword of heroic proportions, enclosed in a scabbard of black leather, encrusted with glinting stones like the red eyes of firedrakes; and on either hand rested her spear, its head the length of a short sword, and her man-sized shield, embossed with mandalas and runic inscriptions of a kind even Leo, for all his expertise, had never encountered. He would, under normal circumstances, have considered such items of clothing and weaponry a rare archaeological find but, as things were, he felt, not unnaturally, a more overriding interest in the appearance of the woman who was wearing them. She was, to cut a long story short (since one could go on rhapsodising about her several charms indefinitely), more or less normally proportioned in relation to her unusually large frame and had, moreover, in spite of her size, a certain indefinable grace which, far from jarring with her martial equipage, was somehow complemented and enhanced by it. In fact - it has to be said - she was breathtakingly lovely, with the kind of loveliness that makes happily married men forget their wives, middle-aged bachelors behave like lovelorn adolescents and even confirmed homosexuals wonder whether their genes haven't dealt them a rather shoddy hand after all. Leo, whose life had been contentedly monastic for almost half a century, felt something strange begin to surface deep inside him, a feeling midway between a flutter and a swoon. Without waiting to consider the consequences, he stooped low over her face and with infinite tenderness placed a lingering kiss upon her lips. IV The music began all at once. At first a mere drone, like the scarcely perceptible vibration of ancient suns, it steadily grew and swelled in a vast crescendo, opulent waves of music welling from some invisible source, as if the universe were bursting into song. Startled out of his momentary ecstasy, Leo looked around trying to place the source of the sound but could see nothing that helped explain it. It was as if it had come from out the depths of the ground. For a while it continued unabated and then receded once more into silence. When he turned back again, the Valkyrie had awoken and was sitting upright, looking down on him. "I am awake" she announced flatly, in a low calm voice, "Who is the hero who calls me to life?" "I . . . erm, well, actually . . . I think there's been some sort of, erm, mistake" Leo stammered. "I'm not sure I'm really meant to be here at all, somehow." The Valkyrie frowned slightly for a moment as if perplexed. "Who art thou, mortal?" she asked, with just a hint of disdain. "Where is the Superman foretold of yore?" "The, erm, the who?" said Leo, getting more and more flustered. "Oh, the Superman, yes quite, I see. I expect he's been held up or something. Perhaps he'll turn up in a minute." The Valkyrie continued frowning. Leo was starting to feel nervous. "Didst brave my fire, mortal? Achievest thou the deed forbidden to all save one?" "Well, no, not . . . actually yes. But I think it was an accident, I mean I was just trying . . ." "Didst feel no fright at the fearful flames? No terror of torments untold?" "I . . . what?" She was starting to sound like a bad imitation of one of the sagas. "Actually, I was, well, a bit nervous." She arched one eyebrow - archly. "OK, I was scared silly. Pissing myself, to be honest. But I had to get my manuscript, don't you see? I . . . Omygod! The manuscript! What can have happened to it? I have to . . ." He stopped, aware that her previously stern expression had given way to an amused smile. "Thou hast braved then the blaze for the love of thy labours, for deeds thou deemed dear forced the fire on the fell?" "Yes, well, I suppose you could put it like that". "Then art thou valiant beyond thy stature. And yet" she continued, growing serious again, "Thou art surely not the Superman. My heart cannot grant it of one so stunted." This was going too far, Leo thought. "Now just a minute!" he snapped. She arched an eyebrow again. "Wouldst have me believe thou art the Chosen One? Thinkest thou Brynhild to best in the combat?" "To what? To . . . oh." He remembered. It was in the "Nibelungenlied". Only a man who could defeat her in certain carefully selected feats of strength could claim the honour of wedding the Valkyrie. And that meant things like hurling a spear ten men could not lift straight through a wall of shields. No, he was emphatically not the one. So what was he doing here? The same problem seemed to have been on her mind. "It is as thou hast said" she concluded. "Thy coming here has been in error. Thou must return unto thy world and leave me to sleep once more until the coming of the Superman." "Oh" said Leo, and his face fell. "Well, I'll, erm, I'll just be, erm, getting along then, I suppose'' and, so saying, began to shuffle somewhat forlornly to his feet. "Be not thus overhasty, mortal! I said not thou must return unthanked and unrewarded. Tarry thou and I shall grant a favour thou shalt cherish thy life long." "But I . . . oh." What could she mean, he wondered, filled with a strange apprehension. "Though I may not mate with any save the one who is truly worthy, there are other means whereby thy lust may be abated', she announced, without the least embarrassment it seemed to Leo. "Thou mayst freely worship me." "Worsh . . . I'm sorry, I don't think I understand." The Valkyrie looked pained. "Thou mayst ungird thy loins and freely spill thy seed upon the earth in homage to and adoration of my peerless loveliness." There was a moment of complete silence, in which Leo tried desperately to keep a hold on himself, while considering her unbelievable suggestion. She wanted him to . . . no, it was unthinkable. He began, in extreme confusion, to rise to his feet again. "Erm, no, I, erm, I don't think so. Thank you all the same, I really think I'd better be going." Suddenly, she became terrible, her voice charged with an icy rage. "Ha! Darest thou, rash mortal, scorn the bounty I have offered? What blasphemy is this?" Leo felt himself shrinking in terror. "I didn't mean to offend!" he stammered hastily. "It's just . . . I, erm, ohgosh, I've never done anything like . . . you know like that before. Well, not with anyone there . . . if you see what I mean. It's . . . it's . . . oh God, it's so embarrassing!" The Valkyrie seemed mollified by his contrition. "How greatly men are changed since first I slept", she said. "What purpose serves this shame in which thou holdest thine own flesh? Art thou feared to give the homage due to the Goddess as ordained in the deeps of time?" "Look, I'm really sorry, I just don't understand all this. I don't know how I got here in the first place, even. And as for . . . you know, doing what you said . . . that, that thing, I . . . erm. . ." "What?" "I wouldn't know where to begin." There was a pause. Then the Valkyrie began to smile again, fondly and indulgently. "Thou foolish mortal, put this fear away. Thou'rt safe in my domain. Trust but to nature and thy flesh will its own need fulfil, regardless of thy heart's forebodings." "Oh . . . so you, erm, still want me to go through with it then?" "Incur thou not my anger, mortal! Thou'st tarried overlong already and the Valkyrie is unused to have the gift of her beauty thus rudely scorned." "I'm sorry. I . . ." "Silence! Thou hast ranted enough. Remove thy garments." "Remove?" "Thy garments! Come. Be swift." In the utmost confusion and humiliation, Leo began to fumble with his belt. Further stalling was impossible and he could see there was no possibility of denying the wishes of a seven foot Valkyrie armed to the teeth with bloodthirsty weapons, even when those wishes seemed to entail his own degradation and utter abasement (not that she quite seemed to see it those terms, however.) In a few more minutes, he had removed every vestige of his clothing, laid it all in a heap to one side and now stood, naked and slightly chilled in front of his tormentor. "So it has come to this", she continued, gazing at him with undisguised scorn, "Had the Father of Battles foreseen that men would become so diminished, it is small wonder indeed that he lost hope for Valhalla's defence." "What?" Leo began, bridling at the insult, but immediately fell silent. He could not feel much conviction, standing there as he was like a skinned rabbit. "What scanty thing is that?" the Valkyrie went on, peering rather pityingly at Leo's flaccid penis. "Hast no greeting for me? Art thou a man at all?" "I . . . no, I . . . erm." "What, art thou blind then? Seest thou not the splendour of my flawless beauty?" At that, something inside Leo finally snapped or, rather, awoke. His pointless shame dissolved and he turned his gaze boldly on the woman, setting his jaw defiantly and letting his eyes linger lovingly on every contour of her face and limbs and slender frame. And as he did so, he felt the warmth of desire spread inexorably through him, his whole body seeming to grow flushed with the distillation of his rising blood. "So, you are indeed a man, then. And were I not sworn to preserve my maidhood for the coming of the Superman, I might even take my own pleasure of you." At this, Leo looked up in sudden hope. Perhaps he could find a way to master her, despite himself, and so regain some measure of his self- respect. He began to step forward boldly but stopped himself when he caught the look in her eye. "Take care, mortal" she said quietly, "Lest rashly thou o'erstep the limits I have set for thee. Thou mayst not lay thine undeserving hands on me and live. Feast now thy gaze upon me and excite thy loins unto the act of worship." Leo hesitated. He felt strangely proud and desperate, prepared to challenge the Valkyrie in some way, even if it meant certain defeat. "O goddess", he began, "If I should yield to your demands and honour you this way . . ." He paused for effect. "In what way will you yield to me?" "I yield?" she yelled, "Hast lost thy senses, presumptuous man?" "Will you not at least reveal your nakedness to me, that I may do you full honour as you ask?" Brynhild's eyes flashed dangerously. When she spoke again, her voice had an edge in it. Leo knew he was treading very dangerously now. "The gods themselves dared not address me thus. I warn thee, mortal, if thou rousest my displeasure yet again, I will not suffer thee to do as I have offered but rather send thee forth without reward. Thou speak'st of nakedness? Is not my form pleasing to thee, though it be clad? And is not the least part of me worthy to inspire thy lust? Say what part thou wouldst choose whereon to rest thine eyes in the moment that thy seed flies forth in unconstrained excess of longing?" Abashed, Leo lowered his eyes again. He did not know what to reply. Once more, it was the Valkyrie herself who came to his assistance. Sighing wearily, she said "I know not why men in these days have lost the knowledge of their hearts' desire. I tell thee, mortal, it is well for thee that I can see more clearly than thou what thou art lacking. Prepare thyself to experience a joy that will consume thy soul and overwhelm thy swooning senses." Speechless with dismay and trepidation as to what these words portended, Leo could no longer do anything but wait. Assuring herself that he was ready, the Valkyrie now languidly stretched out one shapely arm, holding it in a graceful ballerina's pose, relaxed but poised, half-bent at the elbow. "Now" she continued, "Thou seest mine arm. Good. It is unclothed to thy satisfaction, is it not?" "Erm, yes." "Good. Allow thy contemplation of its beauty to drive thee on to thy final crisis." "But. . ." Again, Leo faltered. Half-erect as he was, he failed to see quite how he was supposed to just stand there masturbating while she disdainfully waved her queenly arm at him. She had not quite finished yet, though. "Art ready, mortal?" "Erm . . ." "Then behold! And have thy will of me!" And with these words, she bent and tensed her arm, and an extremely large biceps muscle rose up and swelled to bursting point, seeming to stretch the skin over it until it gleamed with a proud hard sheen like newly polished marble. V In the instant that he clapped eyes on it, Leo felt himself, just as the Valkyrie had predicted, overwhelmed with feelings of an intensity he had never imagined possible. It was hard to say where they began, exactly. All he knew was that the muscle that confronted him was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or even dreamt of. He could not have said why. It just was. He found himself gazing and gazing at it, unable to rationalise or do anything other than stare fixedly at it. He found the way it caught the light was simply breathtaking, while the immensity of its graceful curve seemed to explode inside his brain. Before he knew it, his heart was racing, the blood had rushed to his head and he was salivating furiously. In a matter of seconds, he had been consumed with a lust that made him shudder uncontrollably, his mind lost in a blank, dazed, uncomprehending stupor at the sheer incomprehensible majesty and beauty of her godlike arm. Suddenly he realised, as if coming to his senses from an immense distance, that his hand had already begun running itself repeatedly up and down, up and down the vastly engorged shaft of his penis, and that quivering, darting flashes of pleasure were flickering through the sensitive nerve-centres at its head. Without his even being aware of it, his body had taken the initiative and was instinctively doing what the Valkyrie had demanded, driving itself on and on and on to the supreme act of adoring lust. Astounded, he tore his eyes away from the muscle and looked up at her face instead. She was beaming at him, revelling in the pleasure she was giving and the homage she was exacting. And as the knowledge of that simple fact burst upon him like a final revelation, he turned back, gasping with desire, to the muscle, the topmost peak of which had risen even higher than before. Waves of heat started to flood the base of his shaft and the vulnerable flesh near his rectum, slowly spreading up and out until there was no longer any holding back and the orgasm took possession of him, great gouts of semen cascading skywards in a long slow arc and landing, as if in a final tribute, on the apex of the muscle which had called them forth. For a long while there was silence. Then slowly, as he regained his self-awareness, Leo seemed to crumple inwards like a wilting flower. Suffused with shame, he crouched abjectly on the ground and hid his face in his hands. "What . . . have I done?" he said in a voice thick with self-loathing. "Thou hast rendered up thy homage duly" returned the Valkyrie, wiping the coagulated sperm from her arm and sniffing it appreciatively, "And in generous abundance. Weakling thou mayst be but thy loins are fruitful as Freyja's orchards. Thou shalt bear hardy offspring, I doubt it not." "But" he stammered, unable to come to terms with what he had just done, "Did you see . . . see what I did? I . . . I . . ." "Fulfilled thyself in worship of my power. I have but seldom been so honoured, even by the skalds of old - and they were never chary of their praise. I accept thy service in the spirit in which thou givest it, and I bless the joy thou hast learned in this moment that the echoes of it may resound throughout thy life to come, for my heart tells me thou hast never known true joy until this moment. Wherefore I warn thee, mortal, strive not to kill this thing new born within thy soul, nor turn the love that thou hast learned to bitterness, lest in thy folly thou destroy'st the very thing that gives thy life its purpose. Go now to thy world in gladness, prosper and be free, and leave me to my slumber as thou foundest me." Awed and shaken by these two-edged words, containing as it seemed both promise and foreboding, Leo watched humbly as the beautiful Brynhild lay back once more upon her couch of stone as if nothing had happened, silent and unblinking as a statue on a tomb. And, moved by a strange impulse, he bowed low over her a second time, with gentle hand composed her eyelids and then sealed them with a silent kiss. For a moment more he stood and watched her, overawed by how his life had changed. Then, turning back to his discarded clothes, he dressed himself, a little sheepishly - as he could not help recalling just how shamelessly he had adored her biceps. He wondered now what fate awaited him back in the world he had fled. Had he survived the burning? Had his manuscript been rescued? Wondering, he realised he no longer cared about such trivialities and, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, he turned and vanished through the magic ring of fire.