BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 023 -

There were quiet conversations taking place between different small groups of dwarves, each huddled in packs and glancing at him and the bone he stood near.

“You really think this is going to work?” Stefi asked.

Nodding, he wanted to ask if all dwarves stroked their beards as she was doing when nervous but resisted.

“You saw what I did to Baria’s hammer.  All I need to do is damage it.”

Her sigh sounded more like a low growl as the dwarf frowned.

“But Orin isn’t just a regular blacksmith. He’s gifted when it comes to weapons. As I told you the moment I heard about this plan, what he brings is going to be far better in quality than her hammer.”

“And yet you wouldn’t risk yours when I offered to show you,” Einar replied.

She chuckled and shrugged.

“I would find myself sent to a guard shack somewhere outside these walls if I let that happen to my hammer or axe for no reason. Let’s hope your plan works because if it doesn’t you’ll never get a meeting with Gromm.”

“You obviously don’t know my husband,” Avitue said. “He’s probably the luckiest Viking out there and the gods move mountains for him if it aligns with his quest. Look at every warrior standing in this room. How many of us look concerned?”

Stefi scanned the dozen Vikings that stood around the bone, nodding her head as each warrior appeared bored and with nothing to do.

“Bartia told me you all had massive pairs swinging between your legs. Who knew even the women Vikings had such a large set.”

Laughter broke out amongst the men and women causing all the dwarves to turn and stare at them even harder.

The door to the large room in the warehouse swung open and a red-faced dwarf strode in, a younger-looking one in tow.

Einar had been impressed with how quickly Orin had returned.  Part of him wasn’t sure how fast an older dwarf could move, but only about twenty minutes had passed since the blacksmith had left the shop.

“I… have returned,” Orin said after a quick breath. “Come let us show this foolish Viking what a real dwarven weapon can withstand!”

A small cheer came from some of the dwarves while a few others remained silent.

Einar could see the blacksmith frown at the response he had gotten and nodded, moving a few steps away from the others.

A wrapped weapon as tall as he was hung on the back of the oversized brute that carried it.

When the two dwarves came to stand before him, Einar realized he was looking up at a dwarf who was almost nine feet tall.

“May I see this weapon you have brought?”

Orin grunted but nodded, motioning at the larger dwarf who slung the hidden weapon over its shoulder and began to unwind the rope that bound the blanket.

A thud had come when its head was set against the stone and as the cloth fell, a shaft thicker than some of their spears appeared, worked metal that was woven and twisted, dwarven runes and symbols carved along it.

Each passing second revealed not just a weapon but a work of art, something that could be considered a trophy, not used for battle, as the last bit of the cloth was removed.

He couldn’t help but whistle, seeing the massive hammerhead, easily twice the size of his skull, resting against the stone floor. More runes covered the sides he could see, and the truth of what lay before him was that Stefi had been right.

“He brought that?”

“Of course he did! It’s his greatest weapon!”

Whispers and murmurs came, and Orin’s chest puffed out as the crowd's voices honored him and his work.

“That is truly an amazing weapon,” Einar said. “May I inspect it?”

“If you think you can lift it, by all means,” the dwarf scoffed.

Smiling, he stepped forward, nodding at the giant dwarf that took a step back, two blue eyes studying him.

Einar bent down to inspect the work. There were no forge lines or any way of telling that the metal had been fused together. As he ran his finger along it, it felt and looked like the shaft and head were a single piece.

Ignoring the discussions, he took his time, occasionally touching a few runes, and able to sense some magical power as his skin came in contact with the cool metal.

Odin… Thor… I’m going to need a little help here… Forgive me for what I must do to this, but you know the cause and why I have done what I am doing.

Wrapping one hand around the shaft, Einar smiled, almost unable to touch his fingertips together from how wide it was.

A single grunt came as he lifted it from the floor, earning a few surprised reactions by all the dwarves in the room.  Using his other hand, he began to give it a few swings, stepping back to make sure he didn’t scare the two dwarves that stood before him.

Its weight was perfect, and he could see how someone like Thorodd, Skardi, or a few of the other warriors in his pack would be in heaven to own such a thing.

Smiling, he sat it down on the ground, gently laying it so that the head was flat and the end of the shaft lay against the stone floor.

“It pains me that I must do what I will do to such a weapon like this,” Einar said as the crowd watched him. “Orin is a gifted weapon crafter if this is the quality of work he can produce.”

Nods came from the entire gathering of dwarves and Orin’s lips parted as he smiled, all his teeth now visible.

“I will take one swing and only one swing with my axe. I’ll do what I can to minimize the damage to this.”

“Bah, you really expect you can still damage it?!” Orin exclaimed. “That weapon has songs about it! It goes by the name Chest Crusher! More bones have been broken by it than you can imagine!”

A fire seemed to rage in the older dwarf’s eyes and Einar just nodded.

“I have no doubt it has done wondrous things to protect your people. That is why I must do what I am going to do. I want to prove to you all that the gods are with us and that what I ask for is to help protect every dwarf in this realm. Everything I ask for is because I do not want to see another dwarf die to some troll, giant, or other creature if I can help it.  Had the price to fix my harpoons been fair, I would not have called for this moment. Yet you dwarves dishonored me and my warriors. Perhaps you felt we deserved it since my brothers and sisters did not honor the agreement made long ago, but today you will learn that I have come to fulfill that promise.”

He had removed the weapon that the King and Queen of the elves had gifted him.

For fun, he tossed it toward a wall, using his bond with it to draw it back to his hand after a dozen yards.

Murmurs and gasps came as every dwarf saw what had taken place.

“That’s–”

“A gift from the elves,” Einar said, cutting off Orin. “Now I offer you one last chance to save this weapon. Take this femur, repair my harpoons and suffer a bit of lost honor among those gathered. Otherwise, I shall send you back to your forge with far less.”

The silence that seemed quieter than any graveyard hung there for about five seconds before Orin grunted and replied.

“Take your one strike. Either the gods are with you and I am a fool or you shall find you and your warriors treated worse than a dwarf who can’t grow hair.”

Nodding, Einar set his feet, spun the shaft in his hand and focused on the edge of the hammer head.

He could see where there was a space between runes and felt like he was being guided to it.

Summoning his wyrd, he fought the rage that wanted to overtake him.  Ragna had been right. Every problem couldn’t be solved by simply bashing his way through it.  Right now he needed to be focused and clear-headed.

It took effort and even though the dwarves in the room began to react as flames covered his blade, Einar ignored them.  Each second was spent compressing the flames, knowing what he needed and refining the power inside him.

He could feel the rune on his face glowing. It was like a warm cloth, no, a steaming one was pressed against his head.

The orange flames shifted and turned blue, shrinking upon the blade's edge. Many times in his life he had seen torches be used for metal work, knowing the need to cut didn’t require a massive flame.  Just a single point where it was focused.

He felt that right now.

A tool was in his hand for one purpose.

Not to kill but simply to show everyone here who he was and that he would do anything to stop Ragnarok.

Einar didn’t shout. He didn’t roar.

Instead, all he did was bring the axe down, almost surprised, as a thread appeared, a gift from the gods, directing his blade's path as it struck between two runes on the hammer head.

A cry came as his blade cut deep into the weapon, slicing halfway through before he stopped himself, not wanting to cleave the thing completely in half.

Einar knew he could have done that, yet he hoped there might be some way to salvage the weapon he had damaged.

Orin fell to the ground, clutching his chest and the large dwarf beside him grabbed him by his shoulders.

“Father!”

No one else spoke as heavy panting came from the older dwarf, his face covered in sweat, tears falling from his eyes and splashing against the floor.

“You… how…”

When Orin spoke, it was like a whisper. His voice seemed pained.

“Because I am here to save your brothers and sisters and none of you fools would believe me,” Einar replied. “I have tried not to destroy this completely. My heart aches for what I had to do. But we struck a bargain and I want you and your brothers to know that I am not without compassion.”

He turned to face Thorodd and nodded.

His second in command whistled and six of the Vikings present jogged to the still-open metal doors, returning in a moment with a bone from the giant's arm.

“I shall give you this bone as a token of the honor I carry and the respect I have for the weapons you create, Orin Mudfoot. Every dwarf gathered knows you have the ability to craft weapons and none here would be willing to do what you just did. So take this bone as a gift. May you one day forgive me for the pain I have caused you. Perhaps when we return this way, I can tell you how many giants were slain because of the repairs you did to the harpoons we need.”

“The winner of the finger is Miri Wildroot!” Bartia shouted as the crowd stood there in silence.

A shriek came from a dwarf and she pushed her way through the crowd, moving quickly to where Bartia stood.

Taking a few steps forward, Einar bent down and looked into Orin’s blue eyes.

“I’ll have the harpoons and the bone delivered in an hour. Four days is when I need them done by. Do we have a deal?”

With tears still in his eyes, the older dwarf stood, shrugging off the hand of his son and nodded.

“You have more honor than I gave you credit for, Einar Sibbison. I shall do as you have asked and hold no grudge against you. May the gods watch over you and your warriors and may they forgive me for… being greedy and foolish.”

Extending a hand, Einar nodded once as they shook.

“May the gods guide your hammer every time you swing it,” he replied before turning and moving toward the open doors at the back of the room.

He smiled at Stefi as she stood there, jaw hanging down, eyes locked upon the hammer with a cut that ran halfway through the entire head.

“Never bet against my husband,” Avitue whispered as he walked by. “Trust me, he almost always gets what he wants.”