STAVE NINE
"Faithless is he who says goodbye when the road darkens."
-JRR Tolkien
Thor's head came up as the great doors of the dungeon clanged open. He'd been pacing the floor of his cell for hours now, unable to go back to sleep. But now he stopped as a chill crawled through the air toward him.
A small contingency of Hela's dead soldiers drifted into the chamber, filling it with eerie green light. They stopped in front of his cell…
Escorting a single Einherjar soldier in shining gold armor, bearing no weapons himself. But on his arms he carried a breastplate, bracers, belt, scabbard and a sword. He held an old winged helmet under his right arm.
The contingency halted, and faced Thor's cell, as did the Einherjar. He looked young, and familiar, with light brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a short beard. Thor frowned.
The wall of the cell dropped, and the Einherjar glanced up at Thor and smiled wryly before stepping up into the cell. The wall buzzed and erected again.
"Erinvane?" Thor demanded, without preamble. "The son of the blacksmith—the one who became a member of the royal guard? I thought you had left Asgard."
"I did leave the palace," the young guard smiled again. "But when I heard what had happened, I returned. To little avail." He rolled his eyes. "But now, at least, I have begged to have the honor of attending you, and preparing you for the battle before you."
Thor's jaw tightened.
"Very well. Proceed," he said, and lifted his arms. Erinvane laid out the pieces of armor on the slab-bed, then picked up the dulled-bronze breastplate and lifted it over Thor's arm and head. Briskly, as if he had done this a thousand times, he began adjusting it so that it fit Thor's broad shoulders and long waist.
"This armor has been stripped of any magical power," Erinvane said as he tightened the buckles. "But of course, it was still forged by dwarves, and retains its strength."
"Erinvane," Thor said quietly, his vision unfocusing. "I've…had a dream."
Erinvane's hands paused, but soon resumed, fastening the breastplate at Thor's side.
"Would it relieve you to tell it to me, Your Highness?" Erinvane asked.
"I do not know," Thor murmured. "What good could come of that?"
"It could release your thoughts," Erinvane replied, moving to the bed and picking up a bracer. "So that you may think only of the battle ahead of you."
Thor lowered his head as Erinvane took up Thor's left forearm, laid the bracer against it, turned Thor's wrist and began tightening the stays. Just when Thor was about to warn him not to pull too close—Erinvane stopped, and the bracer hugged Thor's arm perfectly.
"I walked upon the hills of a dark battlefield," Thor whispered. "Through fog, and smoke, and ash. Where lay thousands of bodies. Men of Asgard, dark elves, winged Valkyrie, giants, trolls…"
Erinvane finished the last buckle, then took up the other bracer and began putting it on Thor's right arm. And again, he synched it to fit exactly. Thor took a low, unsteady breath.
"I did not know where any of my kin were, nor my friends. And I carried no weapon. And then…" Thor swallowed. "Before me, at my feet, lay the Lady Sif." The skin around Thor's eyes tightened. "Pale as snow, her face marked by bright blood. Utterly still, as if asleep."
"Mm," Erinvane said quietly, taking up the belt and scabbard, stepping in and wrapping it briskly around Thor's middle. He pulled it to the exact right notch and buckled it, turning the scabbard within easy reach. Thor glanced down, and searched the other man's face.
"Have you seen her in Asgard?" Thor asked softly, pain needling around inside his chest. His breath tightened, and he almost couldn't ask the next question. "Did she fall in Loki's Forum?"
"No one has received word from the Warriors Three or the gracious Lady Sif," Erinvane replied. "But of the bodies gathered from the forum, hers was not among them."
A sigh broke loose from Thor's frame, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
"And yet I still see it," he breathed, pressing a hand over his face. "Against my eyelids."
"See this instead, Your Highness," Erinvane proposed, and when Thor opened his eyes, he found Erinvane holding horizontal a huge, handsome sword, marked with runes, its hilt glittering with ancient jewels. Thor stared at it, then up at Erinvane.
"'Then he saw, hanging on the wall, a heavy
Sword, hammered by giants,"Erinvane recited.
"'strong And blessed with their magic, the best of all
weapons
But so massive that no ordinary man could lift
Its carved and decorated length. He drew it
From its scabbard, broke the chain on its hilt,
And then, savage, now, angry
And desperate, lifted it high over his head
And struck with all the strength he had left,
Caught her in the neck and cut it through,
Broke bones and all. Her body fell
To the floor, lifeless, the sword was wet
With her blood, and Beowulf rejoiced at the sight.'"
"It cannot be," Thor breathed, reaching up with awed fingers to barely touch the weathered hilt. "This is Beowulfearm?"
"It is indeed," Erinvane smiled. "My father had it in his own armory. He is glad to lend it to his prince for as long as he may have need."
Slowly, filled with sudden wonder, Thor curled his hand around the hilt and lifted the mighty sword. Its ancient blade gleamed even in the dim light, shimmering in his grip.
Erinvane turned and took up the helmet, then faced Thor and held it up.
"By your leave?"
Thor, pulling his attention from the blade, nodded at him.
Erinvane stepped close, and slid the winged helmet down upon Thor's head.
And he held on.
Thor frowned.
For just an instant, Erinvane leaned even closer, as if their noses would touch…
And Erinvane's blue eyes flushed through with vivid emerald.
"Take heart, my prince," he whispered. And then he gave him a wicked wink.
Thor's mouth fell open—
But Erinvane's eyes then blushed back to blue, he stepped back, and bowed at the waist.
"You carry our hopes, liege-lord," he said, laying his hand on his heart. "Fight well."
And with that, he turned, and the skeletons opened the cell for him. He stepped out, and between two of them, he departed.
But the others faced Thor, leering at him, and one of them tilted his head to the side—far too far to the right.
"Come with us, Odinson." His teeth clacked together. "And greet the day of your death."
To be continued…
