BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 025 -

“Sometimes I wonder just what other surprises you have in store,” Bartia muttered. “Now I have others within the city asking if they can mee

“Sometimes I wonder just what other surprises you have in store,” Bartia muttered. “Now I have others within the city asking if they can meet with you.”

Einar chuckled and shrugged.

“I have been blessed with some friends who know about the customs and beliefs of the realms we have visited. Thorve over there was a boon to us in Alfheim.”

Their healer frowned and shook her head slowly.

“No… I kept you from getting us kicked out in the first few days. As you just witnessed, Einar has an uncanny gift with his tongue. Just ask Avitue.”

Roars came from the Vikings in the large warehouse section where they were gathered.

“Please, do not get her going on about that,” Drifa groaned. “Trust us, as her shield sisters, we have heard more times than we wish about his tongue. Even worse, she doesn’t share!”

“That’s because he is mine,” Avitue declared, standing before the cacophony of laughter and shouts. “No one but I shall lie with him unless I say so. Even he knows this.”

All eyes turned toward him and Einar nodded.

“If we are done discussing our leader's gift,” Osvif said, clapping his hands, “We have much to discuss. In two days, we leave, and we need to be ready.”

“Yes, father,” Thorodd teased as he stood and took the stack of papers held out by their tactician. 

“You all can complain, but if you die, do not whine if you didn’t study the notes I’m giving!” Osvif shouted. “Now then, everyone take one and listen up. If you can’t read, pretend and listen anyway!”

A few chuckles and nudges were scattered among the warriors, but everyone went silent as Einar stood up and moved next to his friend.

With a nod, he motioned for the instructions to begin.

“There are a few creatures listed and you need to be certain if we fight them not to be a fool.  Most of you won’t have problems with them, but there are a few that even our mighty Einar will need to be careful around.  So much of what we’re hoping to acquire for runes comes from this next part of the trek as we won’t be able to afford everything we want to buy.”

“Not even with all these giant bones.”

Osvif shook his head at Gylfi, who had spoken loud enough to be heard.

“Those bones aren’t worth us hauling around. We’ve got a set back at the outpost.  Now all we want to do is harvest the other ingredients.  Unless you’re content carrying a bone the next few months on your shoulders, don’t expect us to bring back any more.”

When no one else responded, he continued.

“Slag golems are going to be left to the casters. They’re slow and weak mainly to wyrd.  If we run into one, DO NOT engage it in melee combat. They attack anything that gets close, and it will be worth the effort if we can acquire one of their cores.

“Before you talk about letting Einar do all the work, the leeches will be what you must deal with. They drain wyrd and can incapacitate a caster in moments.  You won’t suffer the same effects as quickly with your lack of casting power. Ragna, Avitue, Einar and I will be like a flame, drawing them to us. Your job will be to capture a few, store them in the containers, and help us get out before we’re overrun.”

“You really believe the reports that there are thousands of them?” Samansa asked.

He nodded at the shieldmaiden.

“Every bit of intelligence I have been able to gather or that Bartia or Stefi could procure points to some dangerous sections off the main path to the capital.  We’re talking a good two weeks or more underground with no light except the torches and magical lanterns we possess.”

“You Vikings need to understand how difficult this may be for you,” Bartia chimed in. “For dwarves, staying underground for years and not seeing the sun isn’t a problem. There have been dwarves who have lived half a millennium or longer without seeing the sun and been fine. You Vikings… seem to struggle with such a thing.”

Thorve stood up and moved close.

“If you feel the mountain is getting to you, please seek me out. I can help a little bit, but I can only do so much healing for your mind.  There are some things that we cannot overcome.”

Silence was her reply as Einar knew most of the Vikings were probably thinking of King Eric’s son and the state of mind he suffered from.

“Anyways,” Osvif continued, “as you can see, about eight other creatures are on that list.  We want to avoid some of them if possible as we’re not sure our weapons will do anything. The Myrk-Raukr will only be kept at bay by Avitue, as she alone has wind magic.

“Everyone on guard duty while we sleep needs to be certain they stay within the ring and keep an eye on their packmates. We’ll be running a full pack plus three each shift.”

Osvif stopped talking and gave Einar a nod.

Moving to the center, he waited for everyone to have a second to process what was said.

“Now listen and be certain that you don’t miss what I will say.”

Einar spun slowly, ensuring each Viking was looking at him.

“You have heard the stories of what we faced in Alfheim and how difficult the fights were there. What we’re potentially going to encounter could be far worse than those fights because we will be trapped and unable to escape. 

“I’ve secured two other dwarves and maybe a third to come with us only as guards because we will be helping protect a shipment for them.  Get some rest, stop your playing and prepare yourself mentally.  We are about to enter the belly of a beast you cannot begin to imagine.”

Thorodd unleashed a loud whistle when no one had questions and waved his hand.

“Dismissed. Get your assignments done and take care of business. Two days till we continue this quest! For Odin!”

Each Viking immediately jumped to their feet and joined the chant, For Odin before scattering to the areas they needed to be.

“That was… not inspirational at all,” Jepi said. “We’re probably going to die and it’s going to suck the entire time we’re down there. Did I get the points right?”

Einar nodded and smiled.

“I warned you and Vidar about this trip. No one should have expected an easy way to get runes and grow stronger.”

“He did,” the shorter pack leader replied. “Still I had hoped things wouldn’t look so bleak, but after facing those giants and everything else, you’ve got me a bit excited for a new foe to have stories sung about me slaying.”

Clapping a hand on both of the pack leaders' shoulders, Einar grinned.

“If we survive this, fear not, they’ll have plenty of songs to sing about you both.”

Avitue slipped her arm around his as both men walked off and winked.

“So… with all this talk about needing rest and your gifted tongue, what are the odds we can get a chance to test it out again?”

Kissing her, Einar pinched her rear.

“It’s a good thing we both recover quickly or I’d say not a chance.  I’ll find you tonight. That is, unless you wish to join me on my trip to see Orin.”

She snorted and shook her head.

“No thank you. I’ll keep my body clean of the soot Scardi and Thorrod returned with after visiting him last time.”

***

The sound of hammers on metal rang out as they entered the open doors and Einar could feel the waves of heat growing hotter.

“I’m surprised he wanted you to come by earlier,” Bartia muttered. “Still, he has much to prove after how you boxed him in.”

“All I care about is that we get the repairs we need. Besides, you need a new hammer as well.”

The dwarf grunted and pulled her hammer over her shoulder.

“It’s not a bad backup but doesn’t have the same magic or power as the one you destroyed. Still… I’m waiting to see if Stefi manages to find me what I’m seeking.”

They stopped talking as the old, white, bearded dwarf drew near. As he had been told, he wore a large leather apron with his facial hair tucked in a beard sock. 

“Ahh, you’re right on time,” Orin said. “Let me show you what I’ve done so far.”

Einar nodded and moved to follow the dwarf who seemed in far better spirits than the last time they had been together.

“Why is he smiling?” he whispered.

“Pride, honor, and more. He owes you,” she replied quietly.

Near one of the walls was a long stone table, easily forty feet long and fifteen feet wide.  A tarp covered a section and when they drew close, the dwarf grabbed a corner and yanked it free.

Beneath it were the two harpoons he had asked to be repaired as well as third one.

“Did…you make a new one?”

Clearing his throat, Orin nodded.

“I mean to prove my claim,” he replied. “You are worse than Loki, having put me in a place where I cannot fail and these cannot fail.”

The dwarf patted one of their original harpoons, frowning.

“You brought me trash. If a dwarf were just learning the art of blacksmithing, I might approve of such a piece before melting it back down, but you Vikings are terrible when it comes to making anything of real value.”

“Is it the metal or the craftsmanship?” Einar asked, studying the dwarf’s facial expressions.

“Both,” Orin sighed. “Your ore isn’t as strong and you don’t hit the right temperatures that it needs. That is why these get damaged so easily.  Over there is one made from a lesser quality metal. I had to smelt a few things down to create it, but it shouldn’t bend or break against anything but a giant I pray you don’t encounter.”

“I don’t have more to pay with,” he replied. “How can–”

“It’s part of the deal. When you return this way, I ask that you praise it for being better if it proves so. Don’t lie. My honor won’t allow that.”

The jaw muscles on the dwarf’s face told Einar that every word he spoke was the truth. No eye movements or any other twitch told him of any possible deception.

“I am honored then to carry it and use it to protect your lands,” Einar replied. “I’ll ask forgiveness when I return for the position I put you in.”

Orin chuckled and slowly freed his beard from the sock, stroking it a few times.

“No… you reminded me that sometimes my temper gets me in trouble. Like metal if heated too quickly and too hot, bad things happen. All I can do now is start over proving myself and my work.”

He paused, frowning and tugging on his beard.

“Your… ability to do what you did to my hammer. That kind of power hasn’t been in your people in… hundreds of years. Perhaps your king could do something like you did, but I doubt any other Viking could. To know you’re here, defending my people, keeping the promise that was made… I pray you are wrong about Ragnarok but I also know you are not.”

For the first time Einar could remember, the older dwarf’s face lost its stone appearance, cheeks sagging and eyes drooping.

“I’ve wondered over the last century what was becoming of our people,” Orin said quietly. “And in recent years, the shift in everything happened so suddenly that we dwarves have not responded fast enough. That is not our way. We don’t rush off like you Vikings do… yet… the time has come and we must prepare to change lest the day finds us unready and we fall.”

“Orin, you can’t be–”

He held up a hand and cut off Bartia.

“Child, when your beard is as white as mine, you can interrupt me and my thoughts. Until then, do not dare say what I can and cannot believe or think must happen.”

Einar watched as the two dwarves locked eyes, each glaring at the other before his friend back down and nodded slowly.

“Forgive me, I mean no offense.”

“And that is why I will say nothing more,” Orin replied. “Now… back to what I was saying. Einar Sibbison, I have something for you.”

The dwarf briefly reached under his apron and shifted his arm before pulling out a pouch.

“You do not owe me anything for this. You and your people slayed a giant that cost me friends. That alone should have been enough for me to fix these harpoons for free and yet I made it so that you would pay far more than any dwarf has the right to ask. As such… I give you a gift to aid in the crafting of a rune.”

Einar reached out and took the weathered leather bag. It was soft from who knows how many years of use and yet didn’t feel like the material would break anytime soon.  Slowly, he undid the tie at the top and glanced inside, finding his breath taken away.

“You… I…”

“Must take it,” Orin said, sliding his beard sock back on. “To not would be a dishonor you could never undo. Just do me the favor of not telling anyone I gave that away. If word got out… they might think I have gotten soft and brittle like old metal.”

Laughing, Einar pulled the drawstring tight and tucked it into his chest piece.

“I have no doubt you are none of those things,” he replied, holding out his hand. “Hopefully, the day will come sooner than later when I can sing the praise of Orin Mudfoot and the harpoon he crafted that slayed a dozen giants.”

Chuckling the dwarf nodded and shook his hand.

“Why stop at just twelves? Surely you can kill more than that.”