Thor looked about him, hopeless in the fight. He knew this was one enemy that he could not overcome. He knew he was drawing his last breathes. He thought for one last time of Jane, treasuring the memories he held.
Three days earlier, Odin had recalled him to Asgaurd. He knew not why, nor did he like to leave Jane in this condition. She was so round she could hardly stand. And though Darcy really did have Jane's best interest at heart, she might do more harm than good... Still, he could hardly refuse his father or his king.
"Allfather," he said, as he approached the mighty throne, "Might I ask for what purpose you have brought me here."
"You may, my son. I have heard of a revolt in Nidavellir. The dwarves have become restless since the Aether was captured, and the leaders of the movement have deemed Asgaurd unfit for trade. The violence reaches throughout that realm and, should the Coup De'eta persist, may bring forth similar revolutions in Vanaheim." Here, Odin hesitated, his expression falling, "I know I said that peace would persist, and that you would be able to return to the Midgardian woman, Jane, for good... But..."
"I understand, Father," Thor cut in. "Peace is of the utmost importance, and cannot be neglected. I will leave at once."
Thor turned to leave, caught himself, "But first, if you would permit me to gather my warriors, Volstagg, Fandral, the Lady Sif -"
"Yes, of course," Odin nodded, "Take whoever you need."
Had anyone been in the room after Thor left, they would have seen the light flicker throughout the room as Odin's form shimmered out of sight, replaced by that of the Trickster god. Loki sat smiling to himself, "Good, now that bumbling oaf can take care of those dwarves for me. And if he takes Sif... Who knows? I may be rid of her as well."
Things were going very badly. Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three had allied themselves with a band of imperials, lead by Eitri of the ancient line of dwarfish kings. They holed themselves up in an ancient stronghold, built generations ago. But at last, Thor and Eitri had decided. It was time to fight.
"Thor, you know you cannot fight Hreidmar," Sif protested, when the were at last alone, "He'll kill you."
They had found out the hard way of Hreidmar's ring, made in the fires of the Golden Forge, imbued with a kind of magic that only the dwarves knew. These same fires had brought forth Mjolnir, so Thor's trusty hammer was useless against it.
"We don't have options, Sif!" Thor shouted, slamming Mjolnir down on the map table, disturbing the ironically peaceful miniatures of the battle, "Hreidmar will attack any moment, and no reinforcements are coming from Asgaurd." For some reason, still unknown to the little band, neither Odin nor his guard had answered their call for help.
"But the ring -"
"Will be as powerful inside this fortress as out. We must take the fight to him; it is the only way." Thor looked up, face hard with determination; Sif could see now that nothing would persuade him. She also knew that she would follow him to her death.
Loki stared into space. This was not going to plan. Thor was supposed to go do his dirty work and take care of Hreidmar quickly. This was NOT supposed to drag on for two weeks. Nor was Thor supposed fight a powerful enemy unarmed and unprepared. There were supposed to be minimal casualties - a few foot soldiers here, maybe Hogun and Sif...
"Stop it," he thought as he caught his mind wandering. He had to stop this. "But I can't," he thought. He could, but it would mean using all his strength (and magic) to fight Hreidmar. "I'm not about to blow my cover," he wandered how he had even considered the possibility. But then... Thor was about to go to his death. "No. I shan't do it."
The battle raged around Thor's ears. Hreidmar had yet to join the battle himself. As a result, the imperials were getting along quite nicely. Thor took a moment after bringing down one of the rebel soldiers to survey the market square turned slaughtering ground. He tried to remember that Hreidmar still had that ring on his finger, but the battle was going so well...
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sif - side bleeding terribly, all but helpless under the axes of three dwarfish warriors. Volstagg was still busy with another two on the other edge of the battle, and Hogun and Fandral were dealing with an officer with a particularly nasty sword. Thor fought his way towards Sif, terrified lest something should happen to her. When he finally broke through, he found her lying not only in her own blood, but also the blood of the other three dwarves. She had fought her way free, but was now unconscious on the ground.
Thor swiftly carried her back to safety and returned to the fray, just in time to see the wave. It was a strange sort of ripple, one that struck fear into rebels and imperials alike. A hush settled over the battle field, an eerie silence, like a midnight grave yard. Then suddenly, the silent grave yard burst into screams of the un-dead. Thor crumpled to the ground, hands pressed against his ears. The sound was like nothing he had heard in any of the nine realms, nor would he hear it again. As he looked up, there, standing in the center of the court yard, stood Hreimdar, hand held out, the glow around the ring slowly fading. He had obviously decided that the battle had gone on long enough. His bronze armor gleamed blood red in the light of the setting sun, imposing for his 4'11" height, a full six inches taller than his guardsmen.
The Warriors Three nowhere to be seen, two figures stood out against the blood spattered walls. Standing straight up, Thor realized all the others had backed away behind him, and he stood face to face with Hreimdar and his cursed ring. The son of Odin whirled around, smashing Mjolnir into the nearest guardsman, sending him flying and knocking him into two more. He continued to take out small groups of the rebel elite until none were left, but himself and the imposing figure, nearly two feet smaller than himself. Hreimdar lifted his ring...
Loki flew as fast as he could to the Bifrost. Heimdall was not the only one who could see into other realms, and Loki knew Thor would not last much longer. Still in Odin's form, Loki took no notice of the people staring oddly at him as he ran faster than the stately old man ever would. "Nidavellir," he barked at Heimdall, and was quickly obeyed.
The flash threw Thor back into the waiting crowd of Dwarves. Hope welled up inside him, at the sight of his father between himself and Hreidmar. Hope was all he had time for, as he faded out of consciousness.
Loki heard the cheer with a rueful bitterness. Obviously, the fools thought Odin had come to rescue them from the storm. As if he would... Taking a deep breath, he let the charade fall. A light ripple floated over the crowd as the magic dropped off, leaving Loki standing - tall, majestic, and menacing in his dark green battle garments. He had to admit, the subsequent gasp of shock was quite pleasing.
"So, Loki Laufey's son - you *are* still breathing," rumbled the deep voice of the ring bearer. "I was told you had fallen in the dark world."
Loki smirked. In a smooth, calm tone, unaffected by the fear that ached inside him, he replied, "Reports of my demise are... exaggerated."
No one remembered much after the battle... The only thing Thor could gather was conflicting reports of Loki, back from the dead, and lots of smoke. Some said Thor had woken and returned to the citadel on his own. Others claimed Loki had carried him out of the blazing square on his back. The only thing that everyone seemed to agree on was the Loki had indeed killed Hreidmar, and burned down the surrounding market in the process. How, no one dared to speculate.