"I have this box."
"Truly fascinating. But perhaps a box is not that uncommon of a thing to have and you are wasting all of our time?" Fandral asked her, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. This woman had been particularly difficult during the All-Father's daily hearings, and as punishment for missing his morning bout with Sif due to having a woman in bed, Fandral the Dashing got to deal with the problem.
"You haven't even looked inside."
"I don't need to in order to know that you are some woman desperately wanting attention."
She scoffed. "Coming from Fandral the Dashing? Pick a better insult."
He turned around. "What did you say?"
She looked around, eyes wide, awkward, as if she weren't meant to say that out loud. "Uh..." Her eyes flickered down. "See? Magic box."
"Don't blame the box."
She jostled it in her hands. "See how it dances under your gaze?"
He rubbed his hands over his face and vowed to never miss training with Sif again. Nothing was worth this thirty minutes of back and forth. "Lady Crazy, what is your name?"
"I don't really want to tell you that. Just look in the box, alright?"
"Why should I look in the box?"
"The moment you look inside you'll know exactly why you were supposed to look," she assured him.
"You could have some wretched poisonous snake in there ready to leap, for all I know."
"Ah, but you do not know. How do you come to gain knowledge, Fandral the Dashing?" she questioned.
He heaved a sigh. "Through experience, I suppose. Although many are convinced it comes through books alone."
"And many would say it comes from both." She opened the lid a sliver. "Please, humor an old woman, young man. It is all I ask, and then I will leave you. I promise."
He surveyed her through narrowed eyes for a few seconds before nodding and stepping across the room. She bowed her head and smiled, opening the lid until it hit her chest. Fandral peered inside the lid. He should have known. Empty. Knots of polished wood greeted his eyes. Smooth, freshly cut wood. Nice, but not worth the trouble. "There's nothing inside."
"Precisely."
He looked at her with tired eyes. "And why was this so urgent for me to look at?" he asked. "And please, no more roundabout questions. I'm exhausted."
"What you see in this box is the future of the one you care most about, Fandral. Do you understand what you see? She faces a coffin. She faces the grave, death." When he looked up at her, confused, she gave him a sad smile. "You don't even know who she is, do you?"
"Are you a seer?"
The woman inclined her head. "Finally you understand. Listen to me. She is in Asgard, not far from here, in the basement of a smith's shop," she told him. "She is afraid to come out of the dark because she knows Heimdall will see her, and when he sees her he will know her truth. You must not know the truth until she or someone else reveals it to you, understand? Protect her."