Tales of Thor
Stories about the world’s most epic Viking Sheep, as written by young writers.
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Lightly edited as needed. (e.g. paragraph spacing added.)
A Most Fortunate Encounter with the Chief Bodyguard and Mascot of Epicness, Thor the Viking Sheep
© Greta Michaels, Age 15
His name was Thor. Of course, I didn’t know that then. In fact, when he first arrived, I thought, He looks like an Alfonzo, or an Enrique. But how wrong I was.
It all began when I was captured by some unruly vagabonds, who looked like bears, smelled like pigs, and had about as much manners as a hungry cow.
I honestly don’t think they had any reason to seize me, for when I asked them, the leader just grinned, (At least, I believe it was supposed to be a grin, but it might have been a tortured grimace) and said, “We be villains, we like to betake ourselves a few good laddies and lassies every now and then to be extra villainous.”
So really, I suppose they were doing it just because.
Anyhow, I spent an entire uncomfortable night in the clutches of those evil men, but early next morning a speck of white appeared on the horizon. The other prisoners and I passed the time speculating as to what it was. I was convinced it was a white horse, perhaps from a gypsy wagon which had escaped its bondage and was making its way to wherever it wished to go, but some of the others had opposing ideas. One thought it was a sheet blowing about in the breeze, another reckoned it was a cat covered in rice, but none of us suspected it’s true form.
When the speck was no longer a speck it was quite obvious that the strange creature was a most noble and mighty sheep. I was a little put out that it was not a horse, but I rather liked the look of this sheep, with spotless white wool, clean hooves, a sturdy helmet, and a large hammer with which to vanquish his foes. Indeed, I was convinced that he was here to rescue us, for no member of this band of rogues could possibly be as spotless as the sheep.
Of course, I was right, he boldly attacked those wicked enslavers, defeating them most efficiently.
He then strode to where us victims were tied, and immediately began to untie the first prisoner. To my utter shock he made to leave when he had finished releasing the beautiful woman from her bonds, but she bade him wait as she knelt next to the little lad next to her and worked to loosen his bindings.
The noble sheep immediately was at her side, “You must come with me.” he demanded seeming a little put out with her, “I did tell you not to take part in this most dangerous occupation.”
She laughed merrily, “I know Thor,” she said (Which surprised me greatly, indeed I had believed him to be a Herbert, or perhaps an Alfred or Alfonzo), “but you know I can’t leave these other prisoners.”
He frowned in a displeased way, “It will weigh heavily on my conscience too, but you are my charge. Once you are safe then I will return for these other unfortunates.”
“Oh, come on,” She wheedled, and I could see that the sheep was softening a little. He paused,
“As you wish, but you must come with me straight after.” he relented.
“Of course, Thor.” she said, placating her honourable companion and guard.
He immediately freed the rest of us, with lightning-fast movements, and we all took a moment to thank our heroic rescuer.
He nodded condescendingly, giving each of us this most wise advice: “As Chief Bodyguard and most trusted advisor, I must solemnly warn you not to continue this journey unless you must. The road is perilous, and fraught with countless dangers. Storytellers often disappear, never to be heard from again!” Here he gave the woman a hard stare… “Adventure is a poor life choice, and I recommend you consider a new hobby, such as producing fleeces, or consuming delicious hay. I say this for your safety, and pray you listen to my advice, as it comes from many years’ experience.” He finished with another sidelong glance at his charge. *
We all gave him a round of applause for this most impressive speech, commending his delightful and impressive vocabulary.
He then bade us adieu and turned to the woman, “Now we really must take leave of these good people Amy, hopefully they have learned their lesson well.” He gave us all a stern look, before trotting away with Amy.
Of course, I think you can all tell that on my part his wise advice went unheeded, for you are reading this story, which you would not be if I had listened to that valiant and trustworthy bodyguard to the noble Amy.
*Abridged without permission from ‘Thor’s VERY IMPORTANT WARNING’.
Quest for Greatness
© Alisia Thornwood, Age 11
“Tho-or! Someone’s here to see you!” Thor’s mother called.
“Coming!” Thor the sheep walked away from the herd to see what his mother wanted. When he arrived. A large black cow was standing before his mother. “Who’re you?” Thor asked, not a hint of respect in his voice.
“I, am Kow!” The cow boomed. “And I have come to tell you that you, Thor the sheep, must become a viking!”
Thor stared unenthusiastically at the creature. “And what if I don’t want to?” Thor asked.
“Well, we voted and you have no say in any decisions concerning you or your family so… You have to.”
“Dear, this is your chance! You can show all the other sheep that you are more than just a cuddly ball of fluff!” Thor’s mother beamed at him. Thor still looked unenthusiastic.
“A ball of fluff? Is that all you think I am!? A BALL OF FLUFF!?” Thor roared. “I AM NOT A BALL OF FLUFF!!!” Thor narrowed his eyes at the cow. “I will come, if only to prove a point.”
“You will be assigned to a human and must protect them at all costs.” Kow handed him a sheet of paper, it had a picture of a lady with blonde wavy hair, the writing on the paper was not unlike that of authors pages he’d seen on the Sheepernet.
“Who’s this?” Thor asked.
“Your assignment.” Kow answered.
“Your joking, I have to guard an author?” Thor was shocked, he thought proving himself would mean stopping hedgehog invasions and outbreaks of fleece-rot (the most deadly disease known to sheep kind).
“I am not.” Kow deadpanned.
Thor glowered at Kow. “I accept, if only to prove myself to the flock.”
“Then off you go! I can send an eagle to carry you away within the hour. Pack your bags my good sheep, and be off!”
Thor bounded away, he had few possessions of great importance, his hammer (given to him by his great-great-ramfather Thorgrim Thorsson III), his helmet, and his Carrier Pigeon Bosworth.
“Thor! The eagle is coming!”
A great wind rushed at Thor, and a glorious eagle swooped down and landed before Thor. Thor walked up to the creature and it bowed to let him on. Thor climbed up on the eagle and within seconds they were in the air. Thor looked out over the land, rolling green hills dotted with white speckles he knew to be sheep. Thor whooped with delight, he would finally get his chance. His chance for greatness.
***
Amy Bryant sat at her desk, she was struggling to figure out her next book idea. She looked out her window, it was a bright, sunny day. She sighed and closed her document, she decided to go for a walk. She had just left the house when a large eagle landed at her feet, a white, fluffy animal hopped off it. Amy realized that it was a small sheep.
“Your so cute!” Amy picked up the small sheep.
“Who’re you calling cute?” The sheep said.
“Umm, you?”
“Well, I’ll have you know, I am Thor the Viking Sheep, and I am here to protect you and walk the path to greatness!” Thor made a deep bow, well, as deep as you can with legs only two inches long.
“That was a very impressive speech for one so small, I guess you can stay. But… Why do you need to protect me?”
“My fair lady. You travel the path few dare to follow, you my friend, are an author.”
He said the words so gravely that it took all Amy’s self control not to laugh. “My small friend, not many people are attacked as authors.”
“Ah, but you see. Many authors are attacked! By large blocks!”
“Oh you mean Writer’s Block, it’s not dangerous.”
“Ah but it is! It makes writers write whatever is most dangerous because they cannot think of anything better! It is most dangerous. And hedgehogs are known to revolt when writers write chaotic stories.”
“I see, well, you can stay and protect me from the hedgehogs, but I doubt that they’ll come by. Are they as cute as you? Maybe they can protect me from seagulls.” Amy chuckled.
Thor glowered at her. Thor then settled contentedly to munch grass.
You can find Thor wiling away his days, he eventually earned his title of Chief Bodyguard and Mascot of Epicness, he still holds that title, earned because of the lack of hedgehogs in his quadrant. You can find out more about Thor on his Sheepernet page. But for now, that was how his story began….
The Honor of Epicness
© Leiana Schmidt, Age 15
It all began when I was but a lamb. I had always been different from the others. Perhaps it was that I preferred a finer grass to what most sheep ate, perhaps because I left my mother at such a very young age, or perhaps that my plaything of choice was a hammer of mass destruction, though I can’t imagine how that could have affected it Whatever the reason, though, I was, an outcast, that is, in my flock. But despite the jeering, I knew I was meant for greater things.
When I had reached the age of 240 moons, I was still in the jeering flock. I had decided one day, that I would graze on the sweeter, more secluded grasses, that were just along the edge of the paddock fence. As I munched upon the delicious lemon grass, I realized something, I was small enough to fit under the fence!
Seeing that this was my one opportunity to leave my taunting flock, I hefted my hammer—It was but a small rusty thing at the time—And easily passed under. I pranced with joy through the forest, for I had finally stumbled upon something of adventure.
After I had been prancing for near an hour’s time, I heard a noise, a scream of sheer terror! With my fine ear, I could easily tell that it was a damsel in distress! I harnessed my rusty weapon and ran down the hill to save the young maiden!
As I reached her, I realized that she was being attacked by a band of draconic pirates! She was wielding a broadsword, and it was clear that the only time she had ever actually done any damage with one was during her weekly D&D game night.
Seeing that she really was in need of help, I ran down the hill, hammer at the ready. I see know how foolish it was, but it must have been some long suppressed instinct that had taken over.
I swung my hammer, and as I did, it changed, t’was no longer a rusty piece of metal, but a massive, shining, glorious thing, only fit for a hero. It knocked the pirates out of the forest with ease, before returning to its normal, but still shining, size.
I turned to face the woman, who was now on her knees in front of me, her broadsword discarded, and perspiration upon her brow.
“Fair Lady,” said I. “Art thou faring well?”
“I fare well,” she gasped. “But, what is thy name, oh fluffy warrior?”
“I am no warrior, lady, my name is merely Thor.”
“Ah, but thou are a warrior, and a hero!”
“Speak no more flattery, I deserve it not. But, lady, how hadst thou found thyself in such a situation of peril?”
“I am but an author, not a lady, you may call me Amy, Amy Bryant. And to answer thine question, I have once more written my vilains into existence, and they came to steal the story, so as to change the ending, that they may win.” Amy sighed. “I ran after them to take back my story—which, as you see, is in my lap, here. I thank thee for it’s retrieval—but they are better than me at the skill of the sword. I always lose battles with my vilains, unless I can get at my pen, and then write them back out of existence, but it means I never can finish a tale properly!”
“Then, Amy, I will appoint myself as thine bodyguard. I will protect thee from thine villains, and then thou may finish thine tales.”
“Oh! But that is most magnificent! But to do so, you must have a title to do so.” Removing a pen and piece of parchment from her pocket, she wrote these words.
Thor the viking sheep, Chief Bodyguard and Mascot of Epicness.
Before the words were even dry on the page, a great sensation overtook me. The fire in my belly grew stronger, a helmet of shining metal was now upon my head, and a shield was strapped across my back.
“Lady Amy, you are to kind too me. I will forever honor this great title that thou hast bestowed upon one so undeserving as I.”
“Ah, but I believe you to be the most deserving sheep that there ever was.”
Amy took me back to her cottage, and there I have spent many a moon, not only protecting her, but spending many late nights watching movies, such as Tangled, and reading books such as the The Chronicles of Narnia. She is more than a duty, and a bestower, she is a true friend.
I have never failed in all my career, and I never will, for I am Thor, Chief Bodyguard and Mascot of Epicness!
Thor’s Heroic Rescue
© Brynn Sibley, Age 12
Thor yawned, settling down on the grassy hillside.
“Blech,” he whined. “This green stuff is very prickly and pokey.”
“Erm, Thor,” said Lloyd the llama, one of Thor’s friends, “Do you not know what this green stuff is?”
Thor blinked. Then he lifted his axe and bellowed, “Of course I do, thy snub!”
Lloyd raised an eyebrow, or at least tried— Llamas don’t exactly have eyebrows. “Then what is it?”
Thor stared at Lloyd for a brief moment before declaring, “Why, tis… Ah… Well…” Thor stuttered. Then he cleared his throat, raised his shield, and asked in his booming voice, “Thee shalt tell Thor, so Thor shalt know if THEE truly knows!”
Lloyd sighed heavily. “It’s called GRASS.”
“AHA!” Thor shouted. “I knew that! Twas grass all along and I had known!” Thor kicked the ground, sending bits of grass flying. “Take that, you fiendish… grass!”
Lloyd sighed again. Thor thought perhaps the poor old llama had a breathing problem.
Just as Thor was sitting back down, he heard something in the distance. Was it… Screaming? Desperate calls for help? “A distress call!”
“Huh?” Lloyd’s ears perked up and he frowned deeply. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Then ye, my lad, are blind!”
“You mean deaf? Blind means you can’t SEE—“
“DO NOT FEAR, YOUNG DAMSEL IN DISTRESS! FOR MIGHTY THOR THE VIKING IS COMING TO THE RESCUE!” Thor interrupted, galloping down the slope toward the sound.
There! Up, in the tree! A small viking girl with stringy blonde hair in two braids was stuck in the highest branches of the great oak tree. It was a very large tree, but nothing was too big for Thor the Viking!
“Help!” cried the little girl. “Woe is me! For I am unable to get down from this tree!”
“I am coming, small human!” Thor assured her. “Thee shan’t be stuck much longer!”
Thor turned to climb the tree, and only then he realized that climbing trees required, well, fingers or claws. Thor had hooves. “Just, er, just hang on for a moment!”
The fearless sheep thought of a plan immediately. He swung his axe at the tree, shouting, “I will bring the whole tree down!”
“No, no, do not do that,” the viking girl squeaked, but Thor decided he had the better judgement. Besides, he was the one saving HER.
WHAP. WHAP. WHAP!!
After several moments of WHAPPing, the tree gave a groan and tottered precariously on it’s stump.
“Oh my,” the girl mumbled as she held onto the branch for dear life.
“Huzzah, huzzah,” Thor cheered, stepping back as the tree began to plummet. “Thor saves all—“
Thor was cut off as the girl leaped from the tree just before it crashed on the ground on top of her, landing on Thor.
“YAAAAAH!” Thor exclaimed in surprise as she landed on him. “YE HAST TACKLED ME!”
“No, no, I was only trying save myse—“
Thor pushed her off and aimed his axe. “Fight, child human, or face the wrath of THOR!”
Before the girl could explain herself, Lloyd appeared.
“Come on, let’s get you back to your village.” he lifted the girl onto his back and trotted away in a bored manner.
“That’s right!” Thor yelled after them triumphantly. “Run! Thy cowards!”
Satisfied, he turned and thundered back up the hill, another successful mission finished.
The End! 🐑⛏️❤️
The Messenger
© Meg Bales, Age 14
“Excuse me?” Thor swung around, nearly smacking the eagle with his colossal warhammer.
“Who art thou, strange bird? Also, why art thou distracting me during a battle?” The valiant sheep made a scary face at the nearest wolf, which was suitably terrified and stuck its head into a nearby hole.
“I want to be a messenger pigeon,” the eagle announced proudly. Thor studied it carefully, being an excellent judge of character.
“…Really. Thou look more like an eagle than a pigeon. Why dost thou want to be a messenger?”
“Three reasons.” The eagle shrieked in the face of a wolf that attempted to interrupt their conversation. “One, I’ve always wanted to work with you, O Mighty Thor. In fact, I’m having to control my inner fanbird just to be talking to you. Do you really do lightning?”
“Lightning?” Thor shook his head. “Thou art thinking of that silly superhero from the movies. Same name, but I am a Viking Sheep Bodyguard. Thou said thou hast three reasons. Carry on.”
He swung his hammer around, scaring off three more cowardly wolves. It was anyone’s guess why they hadn’t all run off when Thor entered the battle. Perhaps because the messenger pigeons had such bad senses of direction (they migrated east for the winter) there was little point in sending them out during a battle. Also, there probably weren’t enough non-lost pigeons to inform all the wolves that their worst nightmare had entered combat anyway.
“Reason two: I’m a dedicated member of the postal service fan club, and find the poor performance of your messengers an embarrassment to all mail service lovers everywhere. Reason three: I love to travel. So? Can I be a messenger pigeon?”
Thor blinked. The eagle flapped its wings, spooking off yet another wolf. “Also, I’m big enough to pick you up and carry you over the battlefield, thus scaring off any remaining wolves.”
Two minutes later, the eagle had on the largest messenger pigeon badge they could find in two minutes, which was still woefully small on its gigantic frame. Also, it was twenty feet in the air, carrying Thor.
“Not so high!” Thor’s hooves dangled helplessly in the air. Twenty feet is a lot higher when you’re only eight inches high. “The–the wolves will not be able to see me and cower in the face of my might!”
The eagle smiled an eagle smile and dove a bit. The remaining thirty or so wolves, upon seeing the mighty bodyguard, scattered like small birds with poor senses of direction. Two sprinted into a lake, one ended up in a mud puddle, and four more ran into trees. These seven were quickly set upon by Thor’s sheep allies.
The only wolf that didn’t run was not very bright, and did not recognize Thor. It began reciting its latest short story at the top of its lungs, for unknown reasons. “ONCE UPON A TIME–“
It got no further before getting Thor’s hammer to the head, dropped from ten feet up. Because writing is dangerous, not because Thor had a lot of frustration with writers for choosing such a dangerous way of life that he vented in battles, and most certainly not because Thor had just fainted from a fear of heights. Because Thor is brave.
* * *
“Alright, which direction does a compass face?” The eagle was drilling the pigeons on basic directions when Thor came in.
“How doth thy training go?” Thor asked the eagle, who was in full messenger gear his size.
“Terrible. These featherbrains can barely tell up from down! I’m surprised they ever got where they were going!”
“Truly, it doth be a mystery for the ages.” Thor cleared his throat. “Anyway. I come bearing grave news for thou to deliver. Dragons hath invaded a village, and are at present inhabiting the library and causing no end of bother for the librarians. The address is on the message capsule. Please, go!”
“You got it, Thor!” The eagle turned to the pigeons. “You lot, be sure to study which direction the compass points for the quiz when I get back. Class dismissed!” The pigeons scattered like wolves who’d just spotted Thor.
The eagle took to the sky, straight and true as an arrow.
Eagles make far better messengers than pigeons, Thor decided, watching it go. He began making plans to recruit more eagles. At least until he saw the eagle spot a mouse.
The end–for now.
Thor and the Hot, Cross Bunny
© Jean Whitacre, Age 10
One day Thor the Viking Sheep was going to a small village in Ireland, to see the scenerey. He came to the town of Sarkunii, and there was a sign that said,
Hot cross buns,
Hot cross buns,
One-a-penny
Two-a-penny,
Hot cross buns!
Thor remarked aloud, “I could use a bun.”
“IS that so?” asked the vendor, a German who barely spoke English, “For we are sell-selling today HOT cross-eyeded-ly BUNS! Butty keep your woolyfurs on, you, sheepywool, are on the most very luckful this of day! I, sellerbun, have one left-right! I havied selled to much of peoples! Butty if-so sheepywool buyses hot cross-eyeded-ly bun, sheepywool mustard know NO returnses.”
This guy is either crazy or he is NOT able to speak English, thought Thor. “A bun please.”
“Yessy- sir, sheepywool! Bun coming-to sheepywool nowy-soon.” Then the vendor took out a bunny rabbit, and poured HOT WATER on it. Now the bunny was HOPPING angry. “Herey you are, sheepywool! A hot bun that’s cross! You not being blissyful?”
Thor said, “You are crazy,” and snatched the rabbit away from him. “What’s your name?” he asked her.
The vendor thought Thor was speaking to him, so he said, “Mine own of name? Makkovolis is mine real-life name.”
“Freya,” answered the “bun” in rabbit- speak.
Luckily Thor was fluent. “Freya, if you can speak English you could join the Storylights Team. We develop young writers.”
“Oh, yes please! I’ve always loved literature!” exclaimed Freya.
Thor replied, “This next story is about me; let me tell you about it…”
“Meet Josh and Amy, the Storylights team. Storylights, this is Freya.” Thor was pretty excited. Then he told her story.
“Freya, do you have any talents?” asked Josh.
“Yes, in fact. I fluently speak English, Rabbitese, Russian, Irish, Scottish, Spanish, French, Chinese, German, Norwegian, Canadian, Dutch, and Makkovolese. Example: Will the-ze Ladybuggy of Amycamy want-bunt a HOT cross-eyededly BUN? Or Yessirreebobbysocks of Joshyposh?”
Everyone laughed.
Amy said, “I wish an eagle would join the Storylights, too!”
Then Josh said, “And a lion!”
“Heck, I’m fine with how it is, ‘cause lions eat sheep,” said Thor with a shudder.
Freya added, “Eagles hunt rabbits.”
“Then what about a llama?” Amy loved llamas.
Late at night, Freya woke with a start, having had a bad dream. She had been chased by the vendor, a hundred times larger than in real life. ‘You, bun! Nevery you canned escapade. I willy FIND yoooooooouuuuuuuuu……’ Then Freya was falling…
She shook herself out of the dream, and went outside. Thor was there. “Hey, Thor. Bad dreams?”
“No, I just couldn’t fall asleep. You?”
“Bad, BAD dreams. Makkovolis was chasing me.” Freya shuddered. It is an odd sight, seeing a rabbit shuddering.
“He is bad, and I have half a mind to ask Josh to report him for cruelty to animals. Yes, I will,” said Thor, trying to comfort Freya. “Maybe that will end your awful, terribly bad nightmares.”
“Josh, Freya is worried that Makkovolis followed us back to here. Could you tell the Prevention of Cruelty to Animal Police?”
Thor asked.
“Sure, Thor,” Josh replied. And so he did.
They all lived happily ever after, except for cruel old Makkovolis.
Thor Saves a Princess
© Gretchen Anderson, Age 13
Once upon a time, the sun shone its glorious golden glow upon a meandering mellow meadow, where a lone sheep, wearing a rather conspicuous viking helmet grazed. Suddenly the stillness was split by the embarrassing nosedive and unavoidable crash of a perplexed purple pigeon.
“Oh, dear.” said the sheep, pausing in his munching.
The pigeon staggered to his feet, chirping frantically. A note dangled from his neck, but it seemed to be making him unsteady. He waddled, wobbled, and wove towards the sheep. The sheep took the letter hesitantly and unrolled it. Inscribed upon it were the words:
“Thor!
Help me! Your bravery and valor are my only hope!
Signed,
A Princess”
“Oh dear,” said Thor. “What am I going to do?” He dropped the letter and paced back and forth. “WHAT am I going to do?” He repeated.
“You’ll help her, of course.” said a voice behind him. He hardly had time to turn around before he heard a tearing sound and saw the letter disappearing into a sleepy-looking goat’s mouth.
“STOP.” said Thor, mightily angered. “PAPER is NOT for eating. Especially not LETTER paper!” The goat stared at him, placidly chewing. “Who are you?” said Thor, exasperated.
The goat chewed some more, bits of paper stuck to his fur. “I am Chomp.” he said.
Thor grabbed his hammer. “And I am Thor, the mighty, the valiant-”
He was interrupted by Chomp, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s go!”
Thor did not particularly enjoy being interrupted. “I’m not going anywhere, least of all with a goat named Chomp.” He stamped his hoof.
Chomp turned around. “I’m the princess’s messenger, so you’d do well to come with me.” The annoying goat then turned and pranced down the meadow.
“You obviously aren’t a good one, if you eat your own messages!” Thor called, scrambling after him.
Chomp finally stopped in front of an old and colossally huge tower. Thor looked way up at the top of the tower, his viking hat askew. “Your hero is here!!”
Chomp bumped him with his short horns. “Shhh! You’ll wake the dragon!”
Thor stared at him doubtfully. He was still facing Chomp when he heard someone calling him. He looked up. At the window of the tower was a pony.
“Help!” she called, flipping her long and luxurious mane. “You must save me from the dragon!”
Thor frantically tried to motion to her to be quiet. He put his hoof to his mouth and waved his arms wildly.
“What are you trying to say?” she yelled.
He repeated the motions. He was pretty sure Chomp had fallen asleep behind him.
The princess seemed to think for a minute. “Do you want me to drop down my hair?”
She did just that. A shimmering length of hair flew out the window, coming to a sudden stop a few inches from the ground. Before Thor could do anything there was the sound of a large footstep. It shook the ground and scared Thor to his sheep bones. Thor stood frozen. More footsteps clomped closer. And then, looming around the side of the tower was a dragon. It eyed them unconcernedly.
“OH NO!!” shrieked the princess. Her loud scream apparently woke Chomp, because he shot forward and started to eat the princess’s mane. “WHO is pulling my hair??” screeched the princess.
“Make that eating your hair.” said the dragon in a derisive tone.
Thor brandished his mighty hammer. “Release the princess, you foul beast!!”
“How rude.” said the dragon. “I do not consider myself foul. At least I don’t eat hair.”
Thor lowered his hammer. Far above them the princess screeched something about why they were talking about eating hair and not getting her down from there? “Why did you capture the princess then?” said Thor.
The dragon looked affronted. “I didn’t put her up there, she got herself stuck.”
Thor thought. “Why was Chomp afraid to wake you then?”
The dragon sighed. “Chomp and I are old friends. He knew I would be taking a nap at this time.”
They were interrupted by the princess. “GET. ME. DOWN!!!” Thor looked doubtfully up at her. The princess shrieked again. “CHOMP! Are you eating my HAIR?”
Chomp stepped back guiltily. “Oops.”
“GET ME DOWN!!!”
The dragon sighed. “Climb on.”
Soon they were flying up into the air. They stopped by the tower window and the princess wobbled out. She opened her mouth to complain, but they had landed before she could.
“Would you care to join me for tea?” said the dragon, gesturing behind the tower.
“I need some.” moaned the princess. “My poor, poor hair. . .”
Behind the tower was a bubbly blue brook and next to it a picnic blanket. They all sat and happily sipped their tea, though Chomp might have eaten a bit of the blanket.
Homeward Bound (On a Boat, and with Thor)
© Alex Squire, Age 12
The night was cold, yet the mist that had settled was colder. The boat rocked gently, side to side.
Maisie Screeve sighed, looking out at the water. She pulled a small box out from her pocket, sighing once more. She opened the little box, and pulled a map out from this box. Maisie laid it down on her lap, patting each end.
“Now….” she said to herself. She ran her finger along the map, and stopped at a small island. “So I’m here…” she said, pointing to the middle of the Grivel Sea. “Nine miles…hmm.” She put the map on the floor of the boat.
Grabbing the oars, Maisie pushed them backwards—then forward—backwards—forward. The boat moved forward, rocking along the water. She was trying to find her home, Afridala.
If only she had her compass.
For forty minutes did Maisie do this (trying to find land), hoping that she would soon find that island, until her arms began to hurt.
Maisie looked around the floor of the boat. A bag of apples—the compass and it’s box—a patchwork quilt. Maisie reached for the quilt, lay down it upon herself, pulling the top of the quilt up to her chin. She closed her eyes, praying that someone would find her.
Almost was Maisie asleep, when she heard a voice, yelling,
“Help! Oh help me, somebody!”
It was high pitched; though a little low at the same time.
Maisie sat up, grabbing the oars as quickly as she could. Backwards—forwards—then backwards—and forwards again, as fast as she could.
The voice got closer, and then Maisie saw who the voice had been coming from…..A woolly sheep?
Aye, a woolly sheep. He was small but round, and he was in the water. Well, he was trying to hold onto a chair that was afloat in the water.
Poor thing. He was panting like a wee little babe.
“Hullo,” Maisie said, smiling.
The sheep scowled at the girl and said, “Who are you? Where is my ship? I want to go home, and I should have never, ever gone near the edge of the ship. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be in this mess, now, would I?”
Maisie stuttered. She didn’t know sheep could talk. “Wha…? I-I-I’m terribly sorry, but…did you just speak, sire?”
The sheep let go of the chair, and floated over to the boat.
“Help! I’m going to drown, ugh! Save me! If you don’t save me my mother will be…devastated…!”
The talking sheep was terribly close to the boat now, and began to sink under the water. Maisie gasped, reaching her long arms into the water, and trying her hardest to pick the talking sheep up out of the water.
Finally, with great effort, she pulled him into the boat, Maisie gasping for breath and the sheep panting for air.
“Thank you,” the talking sheep said, standing up in the boat and Maisie expected him to bow.
But………“Great Scott! By my mother’s woolly beard!” the sheep cried, turning around and looking out to sea. “Ooh!! We’re in the middle of nowhere! The middle of the Grivel Sea! How could you have done this?”
“But I haven’t done any of this, sire.” Maisie said, scowling.
“I’m not talking to you, child! I’m talking to myself! Who are you? Tell me this instant!”
Screamed the sheep, turning to Maisie.
“I’m Maisie Screeve!”
“Maisie Screeve? What kind of name is that!”
“Who are you then, sire?”
“Miss,” began the sheep. “I am the greatest, most handsome, most……fine sheep. I’m Thor. Thor the Viking Sheep.”
Maisie giggled, but said, “Well, pleasure to meet you, Thor the Viking Sheep!” She sighed.
“Take me home, Saisie Mreeve! We must get back! My family will be worried.”
“Well, I ..”
But Thor interrupted. “Yes, yes, yes, Daisie Reeve….Haisie Nreeve…..Maisie Screeve, there we go!” Thor said. “Which way is home, child?”
“Uh…” Maisie picked the map up. “Here.” she pointed to Afridala.
“That’s not home, Maisie! That’s…that’s…not my home.”
“It’s mine. Wait a minute. I’ve an idea! How about I take you to my home, and then my father take you back to your home?”
The sheep nodded, muttering something Maisie couldn’t hear.
Maisie grabbed the oars, and did what she had done before. Backwards, Forwards.
She did this for many hours, when Thor cried,
“I am hungry!”
Maisie let go of the oars and passed him an apple.
Just as she was about to go back to rowing, the sheep cried, “Land! Look!”
Maisie turned and, sure enough, there was land.
Thor Floats Away and Narrowly Misses Catching Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilico
© Rose Whitacre, Age 13
One day, Thor the Viking Sheep was out for a walk in the lovely land of Iceland, home to Vikings and volcanos, when he suddenly started to float! For some reason, his wool had inflated like a helium balloon.
Even in Iceland, a flying Viking sheep is an unusual sight. It wasn’t long before Thor was rescued by some volcanologists at the top of Mount Eyjafjallajökul, a volcano that was about to erupt! The volcanologists told Thor that they were actually wizards in disguise and were the ones who had caused him to fly so he could stop the volcano from erupting.
“We must throw a flying sheep into the volcano so that it will not erupt,” enunciated the head sorcerer in a gravelly voice.
Thor tried to run away, but the wizards just made him float toward them. Thor swung his magical hammer (I don’t know why he didn’t use it before) and struck the wizards with lightning. The wizards created a shield, but they forgot to keep floating our heroic sheep. Thor plummeted to the rocky earth and twisted his hoof, spraining it. The wizardly volcanologists teleported directly in front of Thor and carried him away from the volcano, saying, “It’s too late now, we must flee or all be scorched and roasted!”
“It’s your lucky day, sheep! You won’t plummet into the crater of Mount Eyjafjallajökul now,” gasped a wizard in hot pink robes who was carrying Thor.
The volcano boomed ominously behind them. It spewed clouds of ash and ultra microscopic particles. “GO FASTER! Or else we’ll all catch pneumonoultramicroscopicsilico
“Please stop saying that word,” pleaded the wizard in hot pink robes who was carrying Thor.
“What word?” asked Thor. “Do you mean PNEUMONOULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICO
“YES! PLEASE STOP SAYING IT!”
“Okay,” grinned Thor. “I’ll stop saying pneumonoultramicroscopicsilico
“AARGH!” screamed the wizard in hot pink robes. “IF YOU SAY THAT WORD ONE MORE TIME I WILL DROP YOU!”
Thor wisely shut up.
“Stop yelling, Annabelle,” huffed the other wizard carrying Thor. “I can hardly hear myself think.”
“Blame the sheep,” said Annabelle, the wizard in hot pink robes. “He’s driving me crazy! What is your name, sheep?”
“My name is Thor the Viking Sheep,” said Thor the Viking Sheep.
“Well, Thor the Viking Sheep,” said the other wizard carrying Thor, “You might have been wondering why we aren’t using magic to get away.”
“Why aren’t we using magic to get away?” asked Thor. (In case you forgot, Thor is a Viking Sheep.)
“I was about to tell you!” grumbled the wizard next to Annabelle. Thor decided to call him Jedediah. “We can’t use magic because it was too tiring to float you and create the shield.”
Thor decided to swing his hammer and transport them away from the lava, which was rapidly gaining on them. Thor did not want to be burned to a crisp. The Storylights needed him! Also, he was getting very hot.
Thor swung his hammer and made himself and all the wizards, including Annabelle and Jedediah, into a hospital on the other side of Iceland from Mount Eyjafjallajökul. Everyone there thought Thor was a Very Helpful Heroic Hero. And he was! Thor the Viking Sheep is the MOST Helpful Heroic Hero Sheep in the history of all the Viking Sheep ever!
The End.
Inordinate Pigeon!
© Freddie Chesswas, Age 12
Thor looked around. All he saw was battle carnage, fallen foes, and fallen sheep as well.
He only had 58 sheep left. Hoolo the Evil had around 60.
Thor was battling a formidable enemy. Hoolo the Evil was a coyote. But coyotes do not have battle hammers and Viking helmets. They have weird stiff ears and ugly hair, not the soft fluffy wool of a sheep.
Thor groaned. They only had one choice: To retreat. And retreating was Thor’s second least favourite thing.
But there was only one thing to be done. He groaned again. It was time to do his least favourite thing.
He hated to put other sheep at danger, but it was his only choice at the moment.
“Thou shalt bring me the scribe,’’ he ordered.
The sheep guarding him looked scared. “Wr-r-r-writing!’’ he gasped. He shared Thor’s distaste for writing.
Thor sighed. “I’m afraid so. Anon there shalt be coyotes all over the place, and the sheep will be dolour. A respectable army sheep must defeat his enemies anon after they comest.’’
The guard looked confused at the words ‘Dolour’ and ‘Anon’. But he disappeared, and reappeared with the scribe.
“Thou shalt write,’’ Thor began.
To the Reinforcements,
We art in great need of thy help. Thou see, the coyotes have the same numbers as us, and I would like to give their bottoms a good whacking. Thou shalt comest as anon as thou canst.
Fortunately, I am 100 percent sure we will defeat these obstructive coyotes. They art only a mud dam in my path, and I would love to defeat them, and send them away, feet dragging and muzzles whimpering, and in great dolour. If thou comest quickly, we shalt smash them so hard they may even be banished from existence.
Ever so very sincerely,
Thor, the Chief Bodyguard and the Master of Epicness, Winner of Battles and the Ultimate Viking Sheep.
“Bring my carrier pigeon,’’ ordered Thor.
When it was brought to him, he said to it very sternly, “Do not get lost. Anon there shalt be coyotes all over the place, and thou must bring me the Reinforcements.’’
The carrier pigeon cooed in a disrespectful manner, and before Thor could tell it off, it flew away.
Thor groaned. “Thou art going in the wrong direction!’’ he yelled. But the carrier pigeon pretended not to hear him.
“What inordinate birds,’’ grumbled Thor. “That infuriating pigeon shalt be replaced someday. Maybe by a toucan or an egret. Maybe even a magpie.’’
Thor was not usually in such a grumpy mood. He wasn’t soft-toy friendly, but he wasn’t usually grumpy. He was usually a buoyant, happy sheep, but not ignorant and dumb like usual sheep.
He just was not used to losing battles.
At that time, the coyotes marched forward in battle formation. Thor’s sheep shouted, and hoisted on their armour Their mouths were grimly set, and they kicked the ground, ready to charge.
The coyotes shouted a challenge, and barked their heads off.
The sheep bleated, and they met the coyotes. Swords flashed and fluff flew. After a few minutes, both sides had lost warriors. Too many warriors.
Thor yelled as loud as he could, and charged into the fray.
Swords flew. Helmets flashed. Coyotes howled and barked. Sheep bleated and baa’d.
The outcome was not anything anybody expected …
“One can never have too many stories of a very heroic sheep.“
– Thor the Viking Sheep
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