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The Smith and The Legend of the LitteMjölnir

by Gal Mux about a month ago in Fantasy · updated about a month ago

A story of the Lundqvist family quest

Art by author / photo HilarioPhotography on Pixabay

The legend

"Everything you are looking for is always written in the sky," I remember my great grandmother used to tell me. "All the answers are right there when you take the chance to look up."

She would always be on the lookout for the northern lights every winter.  

" Look at the sky dancing my little child." She would say to me. "Look!" She would nudge me making sure that I didn't miss it. "If you listen close enough child, you can even hear the music the sky is dancing to. That's the answer to what you should seek. And you have the gift to hear it. You are a Lundqvist after all. And we all have the gift. Utilise it to hear the music. Listen to the notes in the song. They tell a story and in the story lies the secret to finding the lilla Mjölnir."

By Jonatan Pie on Unsplash

I had heard this story many many times before. 

According to my great grandmother, legend had it that the smith of Thor's hammer had made a model that he had presented to Odin for approval before he moulded his final hammer and the true Mjölnir. 

In gratitude to him, Odin blessed the lilla Mjölnir giving it a proportion of the power of the Mjölnir and sent the smith on his way. 

Word spread all over the lands about a mini hammer that contained the great power to curse or to bless. The lilla Mjölnir was a coveted item. Many came with offers asking to buy it from the smith for huge sums. Others connived to steal it and yield its power for themselves! 

"Did you know there is a litteMjölnir somewhere near here? Let's go get it! We want that litteMjölnir." They would say. And the name stuck. 

There was one major problem with this great gift. Unlike, the Mjölnir which could only be controlled by a chosen few, almost anyone could control the litteMjölnir. Not only gods could possess its power, but humans too. And that posed a huge threat. 

Fearing for the devastating consequences if a bad actor could get hold of the litteMjölnir, at the harshest of winter, the smith and his apprentice travelled to a far distance in the dead of the night guided by the northern lights and buried the magical treasure in a secret location. They then returned home. 

The apprentice was sworn to secrecy in the promise that he would take over the smith's practice once the time had come. As far as it was known, he never revealed the litteMjölnir's location to a soul. 

Years passed and the legend of the litteMjölnir faded with time. The smith told stories that he had sold it to a wealthy merchant from Arabia. And last he had heard of it, it was in the possession of a wealthy African Monarch. 

When he neared the end of his life, the smith revealed the true story of the litteMjölnir to his daughter, who told the story to her daughter, who then told the story to her daughter and so forth. And the legend continued until the story was told to my great grandmother by her mother and she then told it to me. 

The smith also passed down the map to the secret location and a drawing of the northern lights that had lit the sky on the night that he hid the litteMjölnir to his daughter. He instructed her to ensure that it never landed in the wrong hands. 

The family

Many men in my family are creatives. They build stuff. It is not a surprise that many women in my family have been archaeologists. The desire to create great items and to search for ancient artefacts was always instilled in us young. We are after all descendants of the great smith Lund who forged Thor's hammer the great Mjölnir. 

I have heard other stories of the origin of Thor's hammer. I bet you have too. But they could be just misdirections to hide the true location of the litteMjölnir. Stories created to hide its very existence even. 

Of course, most of us younger generation Lundqvists do not fully believe in the legend. I particularly do not. Even though there is some irking feeling deep down that there is some truth in everything you hear, I am usually more focused on finding ancient artefacts for their historical and archaeological value. Not for the family glory that fuelled most of the archaeologists in my family. Or am I? 

My mother and grandmother had spent most of their career life looking for this litteMjölnir. 

" Your ancestors spent their entire lives looking for it, Isabella." My mother would remind me every time I tried to bring sense into her search. " We would not want all their efforts to go to waste. For thousands of years, they have been on the search. And we get closer to finding it each time. We can never stop. We can never fail them, Isabella. Quitting would be failing them and that we shall not do! We are Lundqvists and we do not quit!" 

My mother had all these maps and all these music sheets that attempted to connect the movements of the northern lights to geographical locations that all her predecessors had suspected were the exact secret locations of the hidden litteMjölnir. 

The smith's map had failed to provide the precise details. And a lot had also happened in thousands of years since. Extreme harsh winters had made digging difficult and extremely hot summers had made digging even more difficult. Poverty and hunger, conflict and wars between tribes and countries, and the family's constant migration from place to place through the years came in the way of the search for the litteMjölnir. There was also a lack of consensus amongst the family when it came to reading and interpreting the smith's ancient map. 

All these events were written in family journals that were passed down to each generation. All consistent about the zeal to find the litteMjölnir.

They even composed family folk songs of the musical notes they said the northern lights were dancing to that they taught to every new generation as they passed down the legend, the journals and the maps. It was our family's heirloom. 

I remember my favourite song. I even taught it to my children. Not because I want to lure them in into the thousands long Lundqvist family scavenger hunt, but because I loved the song very much as a child. I remember singing it every night I could under the northern lights. 

The litte the litte the litte

Because Thor is mighty and powerful

Because blessings shall come upon us 

Because the lights shall guide all those who seek

Because even in the dark you'll see as bright as day

Because all the answers are written in the sky

Because the music will always be your guide

Just believe in yourself and listen within

The litte the litte the litte

Art by author

All the maps had led our family to the North of Sweden. That's where they said the litteMjölnir was buried. And that's where I live with my children. In a red wooden cabin in the forest near a lake. That's where I search for the hammer. In a little village called Skädi. 

5350755 /

In the winter I study the Northern lights. In the spring, summer and autumn, I dig. 

My husband left me after he couldn't convince me to go with him on a job he had found in Africa. He is an archaeologist too. We met while studying twelve years ago. Not even the opportunity to work on Nefertiti's tomb was good enough to convince me to leave Skädi. 

I always told him that I didn't believe in the stupid fairy tale. It's not the reason I choose to remain in the North of Sweden all my life. But was I being truly honest with him? 

We have been digging for years. I'll admit that every single time we find something underground, my heart usually skips a bit and I get butterflies in my stomach secretly hoping that it would be the litteMjölnir. 

My husband could notice this little anticipation from time to time. I couldn't hide it from him however much I tried. He always worried that I had tied my career to a childhood folk song.

"Bella, I know what this means to you. But you are much smarter than this." He would comment calmly. "Legends are nice. And we all want to come from meaning. But it's always wise to draw the line between truth and fiction. Let the science guide you. And not a fairy tale your great grandmother told you. Be a professional!"

Maybe he was right. 

And we had found many things in the ground over the years. Trinkets, anklets, necklaces, old Norse swords, hammers and knives, pottery, horseshoes… but nothing that matched the drawing my ancestor the great smith Lund had done thousands of years before. 

"Besides, Bella, if you find it, if there is even the slightest chance that this little hammer thingy exists, and you happen to find it in Skädi, it won't belong to you or your family. It will be government property. That's the law in Sweden." My husband Rickie would add. " Is it worth wasting your life over? Is it that important to you?"

I didn't want to own it. I just wanted to fulfil the prophecy my ancestors had believed in all these years. I knew and understood the law. And I wanted to make my great grandmother proud. 

She had written a book about the legend of the litteMjölnir using the information passed down in the family. Her boss and colleagues had branded it fiction and barred her from receiving any government or private funding to search for this thing they called a daydream.

But my great grandmother was relentless. She was then dismissed from work for directing some of her project funds and office time to work on the search. An audit had found that she had mismanagement project funds. She had then spent the rest of her life disgraced professionally but holding on to the dream. Most of this time was spent with me as a child where she introduced me to the fascinating world of ancient artefacts.

I knew my great grandmother was not mad. She was one of the smartest women I have ever known. I desired to restore her name. And in death, give her back the glory and respect she had lost in life. For her, I would keep looking. 

But I had learnt from her mistake. In all my project contracts I always remembered to add a clause regarding the items I was mandated to dig up. 

…. or any other artefact that may be of interest to archaeology. 

That one line covered for me to search for the litteMjölnir using any funding I got. 

The job

It was the beginning of spring when the new project started and I had hired this digger with his excavator. We were going to work together until the middle of autumn. He was very professional. He was always on time and understood his assignment. He always dug careful bearing in mind the historical value of the items we sought. He had also shared that he was a collector of war items himself which added to his understanding of the importance of digging up the artefacts in the best shape. 

By Jonny Caspari on Unsplash

Rickie was his name. Coincidence right? 

He was a tall and handsome man who always had a snus in his mouth. He had one pierced ear and always wore a tight green shirt. He told me he had several of them when I wondered why he wore the same thing every day. He added that had bought them from a military auction.

In the summer heat, he would remove his shirt and dig bare-chested. Sometimes he would pour cold water all over his hairy bare chest to cool himself. From his body, you could tell he exercised regularly. His body looked like a replica of Michelangelo's David. Fit strong, artistic, inviting and well chiselled. 

I found myself staring from time to time. And this fuelled a burning desire in me for it. I wanted to use it to make myself feel good. It looked like it could take me places. Places that I had probably never been to before. 

He did catch me on occasion staring in the beginning and I remember seeing a faint smile at the edge of his mouth. I think he welcomed the idea of me desiring him. It feels good to be desired, doesn't it? 

One thing had led to another in those long summer nights and we had found ourselves keeping each other warm on the regular. Who could blame us? I was a separated young mother, and he was a young handsome carefree young man. We fit like a glove!

By Steve Barker on Unsplash

Rickie was also brilliant and good company. We talked about our work from time to time. He had known what he wanted to do early in life. He was very entrepreneurial and ran a successful big machine business. And he told me some of the funny escapades that he had had with some uncooperative customers. I told him about the grumpy complainer old men that my husband had been hiring as diggers over the years and we laughed some more. 

When I told him about the litteMjölnir and my search for it, he burst into uncontrollable laughter. He laughed until his ribs hurt. 

He could not believe that the stupid bedtime story his grandfather had told to him as a child could possibly be true. That someone, let alone me, could at the slightest believe in it. 

His grandfather had even added that all the men in his family had wanted to marry a Lundqvist woman. Because legend had it that a Lundqvist woman was destined to find the litteMjölnir and both she and her husband and children would be strong, rich and powerful from holding the power of the litteMjölnir. 

"Little Rickie, you better find a Lundqvist woman. Those women are fierce! They are strong and will lead you to prosperity." His grandfather would taunt him. 

Rickie's story made me laugh out loud too. Turns out there were other stories out there about my family that I did not know of.

Rickie and I worked well. Not just when we were keeping each other warm and refreshed after work, but also when we were meeting the objectives of what we had been hired to do in the first place. 

Even if he had on many occasions said it was stupid, he had agreed to be on the lookout for anything that would resemble the LitteMjölnir. I had shown him the images from the smith and the books my great grandmother had published. 

I felt strongly about this location. 

The find

From the journals, several of my predecessors had searched for the LitteMjölnir there but had come out unsuccessful. But that could be because they didn't have the funding, the machinery or technology that I had at my disposal. And I had instructed a shrugging Rickie to be extra careful. 

It was on a Friday in early October. In about a week, we would wrap up the digging for the year. We had found several artefacts on that site so far. But nothing that could be the LitteMjölnir. 

We had also exhausted the funding for the year. The department had slashed our funds midway as we had by then not found anything new on the site that had not been unearthed elsewhere already. Plus Rickie, his machines and workers did not come cheap. 

I had been working for almost eight months straight. I was beginning to feel burned out and badly craved a rest. I also wanted to spend the rest of the year relaxing with my children. And was looking to start my final reporting to finish the project when Rickie called me over the radio that evening. I could hear him clearly in my headsets. 

"Ella! Ella! I think I felt something. Like a metallic box or something. Come quick!" 

My heart skipped a beat. I quickly turned, ran and jumped into the pit on-site forgetting that heavy machinery was in operation and that I could potentially destroy whatever artefacts lay below. 

"Show me! Show me!" I screamed in anticipation. 

"Relax Ella and be careful!" Rickie warned. 

I could not relax enough to follow his instructions. He stopped his excavator and jumped into the pit with me ready with brushes and gloves. 

"Let me show you." He gestured as he went into the direction he had felt the thing. He bent down and started brushing carefully. Slowly by slowly he revealed what seemed to be an iron box. I was trying to clean my eyes and was at the same time opening them wide to see the marks Rickie was revealing as he brushed the soil away. He was almost done. 

What was this!

There right in front of my eyes was an old metallic box with the image of the LitteMjölnir. I felt dizzy. I held onto Rickie for support. I could not believe my eyes. 

"Ella… Ella… I guess the thing is true. I guess that story is true." Rickie stuttered in disbelief. 

I was dumbfounded for a second. 

"Open it! Open it!" I shouted calmly nudging Rickie. 

"Are you sure…"


He was delaying. Too slow for my liking at the moment. Before he could do it, I had shoved him away and opened it myself. There was no resistance. 

I could see a well preserved purple velvet piece of cloth. My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. I lifted it to reveal the contents below. 

I was confused by what I saw! 

On the velvet cloth was a scroll. I took it, carefully opened it, hands still shaking and read it. 

" Lovely Lundqvist woman, 

It is a pleasure that you are reading this letter. 

Allow me to introduce myself. 

My name is Gustaf Marteen. I am the great-great-grandchild of Gustaf Marteen the apprentice to your ancestor Lundqvist. 

Since you are here, it is my understanding that you know where this great story - our story begins. 

For this reason, I won't take you through it for you could be outside in the harsh cold winter and I wouldn't want to keep you long. 

But here is my story.

You know my great-great-grandfather Gustaf grew very wealthy after he inherited the practice from your ancestor. And he developed habits that took him to the drinking den very often. 

On one summer day after a drunken episode, he bragged about knowing the location of the LitteMjölnir. He even mentioned it in a drunken slur. You know how old men can be when they have had a little too much to drink. 

I happened to be in his company on this regrettable day and I could notice some characters in the den who had grown keener once my great-great-grandfather had begun slurring. 

Pretending to not know what was happening, I bought a pint for one of the other characters who revealed to me that the characters in the den got my great-great-grandfather drunk on purpose so that he could reveal this great secret. 

They would lure him on occasion with praises about his craft and present him with free drinks that had a higher concentration of alcohol to get him to the interrogation stage quicker. 

In his relaxed and weakened mental state, he would reveal small details from time to time and the characters would slowly attempt to piece out these details to work out a location. They did this often. 

In gratitude to your ancestor and the great help he accorded my family, I revealed this to my great-great-grandfather the next day and he taxed me with ensuring that the LitteMjölnir was safe from not just him but the bad characters at the den. 

He gave me the true location of the LitteMjölnir which I believe you have found here today. 

I would wish to reveal to you dear Lovely Lundqvist woman, that I unearthed the LitteMjölnir and changed its location because this one has already been compromised. I will place the clue to its next secret location at your ancestors' burial place. 

I believe that no one will suspect the new location as only a true Lundqvist could figure out the clue. 

Only a true Lundqvist will know the location of the final resting ground. 

I know a lot about Lundqvists as I am bethrowed to marry the beautiful Ivanna Lundqvist over the spring when the flowers start to bloom. She has told me a lot about her family and I wish to serve and make my woman happy. I pledge my loyalty to the Lundqvist bloodline.

I would also not wish for this great gift to land in the wrong hands as it would be a great curse for everyone.  

I wish you the best in your quest dear lovely Lundqvist woman.



Art by author

I could not believe my eyes. Thousands of years of family work had come about to this. A letter from a man long dead! 

What burial site? I quickly wondered in doubt. My mind was racing. Those had probably already been excavated by trophy hunters over the years. Probably even by other archaeologists who were looking for answers. 

But my family kept a good history of all its members including birth and burial sites. And had folk songs about the smith, his life, death and the legend of the LitteMjölnir. This thought gave me some hope. 

Well and the letter. With this ancient letter from Gustaf, I could help validate my great grandmother's research. Her life work. Start a path to proving that she had been on track all along. I could help give her back her name. The name she had worked so hard to build. Anna Marie Lundqvist the great archaeologist. 

I felt so joyful and fulfilled. A tear trickled down my chin. 

I looked at Rickie who had been reading the letter with me. He knew what I was thinking. 

It seems I had just begun another Lundqvist family scavenger hunt!


Gal Mux

Lover of all things reading and writing, mango 🥭

and pineapple 🍍salsas, strawberry and vanilla ice cream, MJ, and Beyoncé.

Nothing you learn is ever wasted. So learn everything you can.

Reach: [email protected]

Read next: "Diary of an oxygen thief": how a man fell in love with girls, and then left them to hurt

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