Chapter 1: Thunder and Lightning
Hlóriði rammed his hammer against the chest of yet another jotun, growling at the sudden pain in his leg when bitten by a frosty shard.
"To your left my prince!" Freyr called, gracefully sliding from the grasp of a giant. His pale blonde hair shifted in his face like a veil, as he backlashed to sever head from neck. Blood painted his beautiful face, Hlóriði turning away to distract himself.
"Show off." He muttered, voice thick with an accent. Freyr shrugged in response, jumping away from an oncoming ambush.
"We need to head further away from the village." Freyr yelled over the clashing of steel and breaking bone. "Away from the people." Through the battlefield, Freyr searched for his lost chariot, boars squealing, having overturned the cart onto themselves. "I will lead them off. Keep an eye on those who do not follow." Freyr instructed, leaping onto the chariot and sailing off through the woods. Hlóriði grunted, lifting his hammer to crush the head of a fallen giant.
"Will do." His own hair was a mess of dirt and blood, red braids falling loose beneath his helm. From the corner of his eye, Hlóriði could see two large ravens perch themselves on a tree near him, beady black eyes baring inquisitively into his own. "What is it now?" He grumbled, unwilling to let his father's watchmen distract him long enough to suffer another injury. It seemed as if more and more giants were coming up the hill, but from where? Mjolnir in hand, the mighty "G-d" strode up the mountain, tunic shredded upon his broad frame as he sent numerous charred corpses rolling down behind him. "You dare defy I? Hlóriði, son of Odin son of Bor? God of Thunder?" His voice was monstrous and cold, as his enemies cowered before him. "Onwards! Return from whence thee came!" Chest stuck out like a buck in spring, Hlóriði watched as the giants descended; ground shaking from their feet. He returned to the large village just in time to meet up with Freyr on his chariot.
"All is well?" Freyr asked, chest heaving in exhaustion. Hlóriði nodded stiffly, placing mjolnir at its original place on his belt.
"For now. Wait for me. I wish to see you off before you leave." Hlóriði replied, wiping grime from his forehead.
"Where do you go? To the bathing halls, if so my friend I beg to join thee."
"Nay. You are familiar with Munin and Hugin?" Freyr nodded. "I believe they wished to give word of my father. I saw them in the woods. They beckoned me when I would not go. "
"Then seek out your father my dearest friend. I will seek you when the task is done."
"And if I seek you?" Freyr smiled genuinely, at the taller man.
"Then I will be in the bathing halls with Freya awaiting your joining." Hlóriði clasped the slender mans shoulder squeezing briefly as he turned away.
.
Hlóriði found nothing pleasant in the twinkle that comprised his father's icy blue eyes. He learned to be cautious of the aged warrior, and the secrets and "surprises" he tended to throw onto he and Loki's shoulders.
"Might I have a word with you my son?" Odin's voice was thick and raspy, Hlóriði figured it was from so many battle cries, Loki saying it was from age. He gave a grunt in response. His coronation was in a matter of days, and he had no time to waste, especially with his father's unfortunately long talks. He could not deny the man, for he was also his king… so the talks would have to be endured. Obediently stepping up to the throne, he bowed respectively. Raising a hand, the Allfather motioned for him to rise. "The war was as expected, failure. It seems just as the dwarves, we underestimated the orcs." This didn't seem to be what Odin initially wanted to address. The man was stalling.
"How many of our troops were loss?" Hlóriði questioned, smoothing down the fabric of his trousers. Odin sighed, taking his hat off to scratch his head.
"The casualty of the orc and dwarves were greater. There being only a handful of dwarves left in Khazad-Dum. Prince Frerin was one of the many lost."
"Serves Thror right! The oaf cared for nothing more than what riches were to be mined from those mountains. What enchanted gold he could find, and for what bargain. They are no better than the giants that tower above them."
"Have you forgotten it was a dwarf, that gifted you that hammer? A gift to you from King Thrain himself? Have you no respect for those who do you good?"
"I respect those respectable. Thror is no man deemable of that honor. Nor is Thrain, or any burdened to bear the name of Durin!" Odin said nothing, nodding at Hlóriði's outburst.
"And what makes you deemable to the respect you deny to them?" Odin questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his thin lips. Hlóriði bristled, crossing his arms over a wide chest.
"I am a God-
"You are not. We live and die just as mortal men." Odin cut in nonchalantly.
"Not without interference of others. How many of us have died from a cold or chill? How many of our children have suddenly left us for Hel in their sleep?"
"Again… you have failed to see my point, Hlóriði. Their are great Kings and good men. Which are you?"
"I- Hope to be a great King." Odin sighed for the third time, pushing up from his chair to stand.
"Understandable my son. But not what I was looking for.
"Pray do tell what you were looking for father?" Hlóriði called as the man began walking away. Odin stopped.
"A good man willing to compromise the desires of himself for the betterment of his people. A good man willing to look not with his eyes, nor fists, but with his mind."
"Knowledge is not everything." Hlóriði retorted.
"Neither is strength so it seems." Hlóriði snorted, blue eyes staring angrily after his father- his king. There could be no other who could frustrate him more...well one person, and he was peeping through the door.
"Nephew." The silken voice says. "I thought I heard you in here." The man was tall and thin, with wide shoulders and narrow hips, his long red hair was loose upon his shoulders, long and well cared for. Emerald green eyes held a mischievous glint that his lips could not foretell.
"Loki." Hlóriði greeted gruffly, not in the mood to play with the older male at the moment.
"Why so grim?" Loki questioned, stepping in cautiously. "There's too much to be joyous about, rather than sulking."
"I do not sulk." Hlóriði growled back, Loki's feral grin growing wider.
"You will soon~" Loki sang, strumming his fingers along Hlóriði's chest. "Without a doubt."Hlóriði grunted, walking swiftly to catch his father.
"I can compromise." Hlóriði said, finally stepping to walk alongside the aging man, who refused to show his age, back straight and regal as ever.
"The time has come for you to be married." Odin says simply, not bothering to glance at his son. Hlóriði halted minutely.
"Married. " He repeated. "Why now?"
"The treaty has come to date. You do remember?" Odin raised a bushy brow, to which Hlóriði shrugged.
"I had thought it only means to amuse me. Hadn't had time to think with the duties of being your son."
"It makes no difference."
"But you promised me Sif not too long ago. You said I could court her."
"What is a King without secrets?"
"I wish to be faithful to the ones I love. I long fruitful marriage father, that will not happen should I be given a dwarf! Let him be as I am without!"
"I cannot turn back on my word Hlóriði! Was it not you, who promised to do Asgard some good? To give to the poor and make a lesson from the mighty? You had no qualms about this arrangement when I first brought it up to you."
"That was some twenty years ago. I am a man now, I know what I want, what will-" Hlóriði cut himself off, frown smoothing out. "You are right...but that is when I knew what Thorin looked like. If he looks anything like his kin father I… simply cannot."