La fleur au fusil
Regnvald the Cheerful and his men takes on an impossible horde of monsters. Can they survive such insurmountable odds? Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Comedy
Determined to make use of phrase “la fleur au fusil”,
I began to write a story that would use the phrase.
Encircled by malicious trolls and ice golems; the young, strapping, ever cheerful, and charming warrior, Regnvald the Cheerful called to all his men and bellowed his battle cry “Do not loose hope comrades! The heavens are with us and we shall win this battle before daybreak comes”.
His men looked at each other, their eyes spoke of defeat and pessimism. They knew Regnvald, la fleur au fusil, born out of wedlock to the former leader, Stiv the Righteous, and the warrior maiden from the northern prairie tribes of Solvind, Helga the Brave, both of whom perished at the battles against the Ice Giants of the north — the Isgantur; none of his men had the courage to speak truth to their good, honest and cheerful fool of a leader.
Despite being foolishly optimistic, Regnvald the Cheerful is a brave warrior in spirit and skill and none of his fellows had ever doubted his abilities… until now. They looked at the horde of snarling trolls all eager for a fight and fierce looking ice golems that towered over them by several meters casting shadows that swallowed their own and felt the beckoning of Hel.
“Well men? Raise your swords and we shall fight till every last one of the fiends cry their last breath in agony for crossing our path” cheered Regnvald raising his mighty battle axe to the sky, “To their deaths!”
With hesitation, his crew slowly raised their weapons and chanted without enthusiasm, “to… their… deaths... ”, a few faintly whispered “or ours…”
“The heavens can't hear you!” cried Regnvald with optimism unmatched by any on land.
“To their deaths!” yelled the band of warriors in frustration. If they are going to die, they might as well die with fury, so they thought.
Suddenly, dark clouds swarmed and thunder roared, drawing every eye — foe and friend alike — towards the sky. A bolt of lightning struck down… then two… and eventually, a volley of lightning fell like rain and zapped each and every troll and ice golem that stood, leaving only Regnvald and his men unscathed.
The band of warriors looked at the trail of roasted monsters, mystified and aghast; their mouths nearly departed from their faces as they looked about and at each other; while Regnvald examined the carnage with satisfaction plastered on his chiseled features, smiled and laughed heartily “What did I say? The heavens are with us!” He turned around to look at his men and saw that their eyes nearly fell off their sockets while their jaws were unhinged and tugged by the earth.
“I see all your humble reactions to our astounding victory. Now the scourge of these lands walk among us no more! Ain't it so, my fellow warriors? This is the time to rejoice! ”
Regnvald’s men — without thought —slowly nodded their heads in puzzled astonishment before slowly dropping off like flies, one by one, unto their knees on the ground. Relieved at their luck. Their minds blank.
Meanwhile, in the heavens or more appropriately Asgard, home to the Gods, a loud booming voiced roared, bouncing off the walls in every corner of every room in Thrudheim. All 540 rooms. “THOR!! Have you been mucking around with my lightning bolts again?”
Thor jumped briefly, startled by the sudden appearance of his father, the mighty Odin, hot and red like the sun. Quickly recovered, Thor answered with the bearing of a confident brawn "I just tossed a few, nothing that would matter to you, father" he spoke candidly.
“Have you forgotten that I see all, foolish son? Need I remind you who it is you are speaking to?” the atmosphere grew heavy within the palace walls.
Thor, still confident in manner, bearing the confidence befitting the God of Thunder, and smiling with the air of nonchalance, merely gazed at his father.
Odin looked to him with exasperation and deeply sighed. There was no getting through this knuckle head son of his.
"How many times have I told you never to meddle in the affairs of Midgard?"
Thor looked back at his father, his eyes squarely affixed with the terrifying all seeing eye of Odin. Then with indifference he spoke.
"I did not meddle in their affairs, father. I wanted to harvest a few trolls and ice golems and saw the beastly things gathered in one place. It was simpler to smite them with your lightning bolts than if I had to go down there and struck them with Mjölnir. Now, exotic game and ice is all ready to be fetched for the warriors of Valhalla"
Odin looked at him questioningly, “But you aren't supposed to step foot down there!”
“Why not? You go down there all the time, father.”
Odin didn't want to prolong this petty argument. He sighed once more. "Very well, I shall overlook this matter and I will leave it to you to see to it that tonight's banquet is a grand success. BUT! If I ever catch you doing it again, I shall have you feed Fenrir! With or as fodder! "
Thor merely shrugged his shoulders much to the annoyance of Odin and responded "I make no promises father"
Odin looked him up and down, pursed his lips in annoyance, his anger withdrew in surrender. He turned around for the hall of the great palace and mumbled something as he walked that ended with "kids these days..."
As his footsteps became nothing more than faint echoes before disappearing altogether into the void, a voice spoke from a short distance.
"Nice lie" cheered Loki who had witnessed the whole proceeding, while he snucked into the room morphed as a lost goose that had wandered about before shifting back to his godly form.
"What a charming lie, indeed. You never could resist the la fleur au fusil." Loki smirked, green eyes aglowed with mischief.
"It wasn't a lie, brother, I needed good exotic game meat and the ice from ice golems make for delicious shaved ice desert for tonight's feast. It just so happens that brave optimistic warriors also gathered where the prey were" Thor rebutted.
Loki looked at his brother in amusement before he spoke "You really are a muscle head, as hard headed and stubborn as your hammer, Mjölnir"
Thor ignored his brother’s jests, turned around and headed for the gate towards Bifröst, where Heimdall was busily writing poetry.
He smiled as he walked while Loki whispered under his breath, his green eyes glowed “La fleur au fusil”
-fin-
Author’s note:
Special thanks to
whose phrase drops are always interesting to read and for inspiring such a story. Check his publication out if you are interested for more.This story was heavily influenced by Neil Gaiman’s fun book Norse Mythology, to which, I tweaked the gods with my own interpretation of their personalities as well as added my own little made up world of warriors and monsters.
Regnvald is pronounced “Ra-en-vald”, a combination of the Danish word for Rain which is Regn and Vald which can mean power/authority; or space/room. I named him to contrast his nature.
Thank you so much for this amazing story! I really had good laughs! 😀