The Laughing Dragon

This is a single chapter from a book called “Special Delivery to Helheim.” Originally written in Norwegian.

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They drove down the winding road that twisted ever deeper into the darkness.

Kjell felt sweat trickling down his back, despite the icy air seeping in through the thin seams in the door. The draft sent shivers down his spine.

The air itself was thick and heavy as if the darkness itself had taken on shape and pressed against the car windows.

The GPS had stopped giving its usual directions and simply showed an arrow pointing straight down, accompanied by faint whispering that sounded like Kjeeeelllll and Suuuuundaaar, each syllable drawn out like an echo from the depths.

“Next stop, the end of the world,” Kjell muttered, throwing a nervous glance at Sundar. His fingers drummed restlessly on the steering wheel. “Got anything to say about this place too, professor?”

Sundar adjusted his turban with practiced ease and looked calmly out the window, where the shadows danced in the headlights.

“Given the surroundings, the mythology says we’re about to meet Nidhogg. A dragon who lives at the roots of Yggdrasil, the one they call the world tree. He lives at the bottom, where it meets the underworld. He’s known to have…a particular appetite.”

Kjell groaned, gripping the wheel tighter. “Great. Dragons and roots. What’s next? Deliveries to Valhalla? Why won’t these fucks just use food delivery apps like normal people?”

“They are not people, Kjell.”

“I know that professor. I was making a point!”

A massive cave opened before them—a gaping maw in the mountain rimmed with rocks glowing faintly red. With their luck, they were filled with molten lava.

Inside, something huge moved—slowly, like a wave in a sea of darkness. It shifted back and forth in the shadows, a silhouette so vast it made their van look like a pebble. The air reeked of rot and sulfur, a stench of something old and dead, and Kjell instinctively held his breath as the nausea rose.

The dragon emerged slowly.

“Welcome to the bottom,” rumbled a deep, creaking voice that made the gravel around them shiver. Each breath sent waves of heat toward them like from an open smelter.

“I assume you brought the package?”

Kjell swallowed hard, his palm slick with sweat as he grabbed the box marked keep moist. “Uh, yeah. Here. Wet and fresh, just like you asked.”

Nidhogg stretched forward. His scales glinted metallic in the dim light, and every movement sent cascades of sparks flying from his body.

“Before I accept it, you must pay the toll.”

“Toll?” Kjell said, turning toward Sundar, his voice trembling slightly. “Can we deduct that on our taxes?”

Sundar tilted his head, unfazed, as if discussing delivery terms with an ordinary client. “I suggest we hear what he wants.”

Nidhogg licked his lips, sparks flickering between his teeth like fireflies before dying out. “I want something sweet. Chocolate, perhaps?”

Kjell blinked, sweat now running down his neck. “Chocolate? We’re in the blasted underworld. What makes you think we’re carrying chocolate around?”

Nidhogg grinned wide, revealing multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the reddish light. Each one the size of a table knife, his breath warping the air like heat haze. “Because I know couriers. You always carry something extra. If not, I’ll find something else to chew on. Like you.”

“He’s joking, right?” Kjell whispered, barely audible.

“I don’t think so,” Sundar replied calmly, though he had taken a small step back.

Kjell started rummaging through the van with trembling hands. Papers and receipts flew everywhere as he searched frantically. He opened the glove compartment and found a half-eaten chocolate bar. Partly melted and coated in dust. He pulled it out and presented it with trembling hands. “This is all we’ve got. Enjoy.”

Nidhogg leaned forward and took the chocolate with a single fang. He swallowed it in one gulp, closed his eyes, and hummed contentedly—a sound that made the entire cave tremble. “Not bad. A little old, but I’ve had worse. Someone gave me a protein bar once. That didn’t end well.” A puff of cocoa-scented smoke rose from his nostrils.

“Uh… great,” Kjell said nervously, taking a cautious step toward the car. “So, do you accept the delivery now?”

“Wait,” said Nidhogg, opening his eyes again. They glowed brighter now, like twin moons in the dark. “First you must hear a jest. That’s toll number two.”

Sundar crossed his arms, looking up at the dragon, steady as a rock while Nidhogg’s tail swept past just meters away. “We came here to deliver a package. That’s it. The rules are clear.”

“My rules now,” Nidhogg replied with a toothy grin that lit up the cave.

“Listen: Why don’t dragons like eating trolls?”

Kjell groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me guess. Because they taste like shit?”

“No!” Nidhogg roared with laughter, the sound shaking the mountain itself.

“Because they are moldy! Trolls live in caves! Get it? Moldy!”

He laughed so hard the cave shook, stones tumbling from the mouth of the cavern, crashing around them. The glowing rocks bounced like fireballs at their feet. Harmless to the dragon—but Kjell had to jump aside to avoid being crushed.

“Wait, wait, I’ve got more!” Nidhogg shouted gleefully, his tail whipping through the air in excitement, triggering another rockfall.

“What did the dragon say to the squirrel? ‘Stay away from my nuts!’”

The dragon laughed maniacally.

Kjell stared blankly at him, dodging falling rocks. He muttered, “Seriously? Squirrel jokes now? What’s next, Little Red Riding Hood?”

“Okay, okay, what does the dragon say to his prey before dinner? ‘Smile wide—you’re on the gum-run now!’” Nidhogg laughed so violently that a huge rock crashed behind them with a deafening boom. The echo of his laughter rolled through the tunnels like distant thunder.

Sundar stood motionless, listening patiently while Kjell glanced desperately toward the glowing lava, wondering if a hot bath would be a kinder end.

“Oh, but this one’s good: Why do dragons love reading? Because they always devour books!” Nidhogg twisted with laughter, his scales sparkling like shards of mirror in the red light.

Kjell covered his face with his hands, hunched over. Sweat poured down his back now. “This is torture. I’ve read about the hell’s torment, but no one mentioned dragon jokes.”

“Just one more!” Nidhogg yelled, slamming his tail against the floor, sending sparks flying. “What do you get when you cross a dragon with a sheep?”

Sundar raised an eyebrow. “I’d assume something burned.”

“Exactly! Barbecue!” Nidhogg laughed so hard it seemed he might collapse. The whole cave shook, dust and pebbles raining down around them.

They set the package on the ground and backed away slowly, eyes fixed on the dragon as they climbed into the van. Nidhogg kept laughing, the metal frame rattling around them. The engine coughed in protest as Kjell turned the key. He leaned on the steering wheel and muttered, “I’m done. No more dragons. No more jokes.”

“I must agree,” Sundar whispered, brushing grit off his turban. His usual calm had finally started to crack. “But we must give Nidhogg credit for his poetic enthusiasm.”

Kjell bumped his head lightly against the steering wheel, each thud marking a word: “Next time, you handle it. I can’t take another ‘troll’ or ‘squirrel’ pun.”

Sundar gave a faint smile. “We could bring a joke book next time. He might appreciate that.”

Kjell shook his head, starting the van. The engine sputtered like a dusty cat before finally steadying. “Next time? No. Never. We’re never delivering here again.”

From the cave entrance, Nidhogg’s voice boomed out, rolling over them like thunder: “Come back! I’ve got a new one! What did the dragon say to the snowman? ‘Where’s the charcoal?’”

Neither of them turned around, but behind them the dragon’s laughter rose—louder, deeper than before. It built into a roar that made the mountain quake, and in the rearview mirror, Kjell saw boulders the size of cars break loose and tumble into the abyss. A cloud of dust and gravel billowed from the cave like smoke from an erupting volcano.

“Drive,” said Sundar. For the first time that night, his voice sounded tense.

Just a little.

Kjell slammed the gas pedal to the floor, and the van had shot forward with a shriek of protest from the engine. Behind them, Nidhogg’s laughter kept rolling through the underworld—accompanied by the sound of collapsing rock and the echo of the world’s worst jokes.