They arrived in the Avengers Tower in New York City only to find a gaggle of dwarves inhabiting Stark's penthouse sitting room. The dwarves climbed to their feet, and Thor strode forward and to greet their leader with a short bow. He was very old, with long gray hair held severely back from his face in a clip. His beard was intricately braided and knotted to redirect the strands back over his shoulders. His bushy eyebrows were also braided into his hair. His three sons were very easy to identify, as they all shared their father's prominent pointed ears, bright eyes, and narrow nose. The sons and the other younger member of the group who clutched a briefcase and sketchbook all wore their dark hair in spectacularly elaborate constructions, a sign of status, actually, and the crafting skill of the household. The whole group was attired in deceptively simple work clothes, but the quality was such as could only be seen among royalty and the wealthy houses of Nidavellir. Thor smiled and said formally, "Brother, may I present Ulric Mimmeson, Master of the House of Naibur, together with his three sons and Chief Assistant Artisan Bolli Bollason. Master Ulric, my brother Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Magic, Lies, and Mischief. Also I should present my human friends, our host Master Anthony Stark the Man of Iron, Captain Steven Rogers of America, the Sorcerer Supreme of Midgard Doctor Stephen Strange, Lady Natasha Romanoff the Black Widow, Doctor Bruce Banner, and Master Clinton Barton, called Hawkeye. They are among Earth's mightiest heroes and fought bravely in the battles of-"

"Yes, yes, good job with the formalities, Prince Thor," Ulric said in a surprisingly high voice as he swept passed to bow deeply before beslinged Loki, who nodded back. "You highness," he murmured. "We of Nidavellir are overjoyed at your conquest of Thanos, and the defeat of his armies at the hands of your allies. The Mad Titan had injured us greatly in the past, and so we honor you."

"Master Ulric. I should thank you for your wondrous works. They have served me well."

"But of course! They were my own design! A marvelous challenge, yes, marvelous. I am only glad to be able to claim some small pride in your glorious revenge." He snapped his fingers, and one of his sons handed him a stethoscope immediately. Without even asking, he propelled Loki into the nearest chair then reached up and started listening around on Loki's chest. "Beautiful," he murmured. He passed a hand over Loki's ribs, and an image of the artificial lung flashed into being and was gone. Ulric beamed contentedly. Then he snatched up Loki's false leg, examining it closely with an impressive set of spectacles he could probably adjust to microscopic magnification- another of his sons had exchanged it for the stethoscope. Loki smirked at the humans' bemused expressions, and even Thor grinned. Nidavellans were a somewhat curious race, it must be admitted, very proud and very single-minded when it came to their work. As the master smith who had created Loki's prosthetics, Master Ulric likely saw Loki more as an avatar for his creations than a living, breathing creature. Although Nidavellans were also congenitally fascinated with status, and receiving personal commissions from Asgardian royalty was no small thing in their society.

"Where did you get this?" Ulric suddenly asked excitedly, fingering Princess Shuri's vibranium disc. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "It's quite ingenious! I thought about designing something similar originally, but those pinching, dictatorial-" he rattled off a bewildering series of epithets in his own language- "wouldn't approve the order for so much, um... Bolli! What's the Americanian word I'm looking for? Upsidasium? Unobtanium? Omnipropositium? Valoritium? Here, this stuff-" with another unrepeatable Nidavellan word, he yanked his assistant forward to examine the disc. Bolli scratched his beard thoughtfully, but didn't answer.

"Vibranium?" Captain Rogers supplied as he sat down on a couch, smiling slightly.

"Yes, that's the one! Now, where did you get it, highness?"

Loki smiled faintly. "It was a gift following the battle with Thanos."

Ulric glowered suddenly. "It wasn't Dvallik of the House of Nun, was it? I swear, if he sabotaged me just so he could swoop in and-"

"Peace," Loki laughed. "It was not Dvallik. It was the daughter of one of my allies. More I cannot say."

"Ah!" His expression turned very savvy. "Is this woman available? I would give her any of my unmarried sons. Or daughters! Or simply adopt her into the House of Naibur, I suppose..."

"Shuri's family might have other plans for her," Thor observed.

"Shuri, is it?"

"Thor, you shall give away all the secrets we are sworn to protect. Master Ulric, I will convey your generous offer to the lady, or Thor will, but that is all I may do for you. Now, what other business have you here today?"

"Ah. A proposal." He snapped his fingers again, and Bolli eased forward with his papers. He opened the sketchbook with a flourish. "Hands!" the master cried. "I, Master Ulric Mimmeson of Naibur, shall craft you the most dexterous set of hands you could possibly desire! I set the whole House working on the designs and materials as soon as we heard what happened." Loki looked at him askance. He certainly hadn't told them, and Thor surely should not have broadcast the news to all and sundry. "The Queen contacted us," Ulric assured him. He sifted through the sketchbook. "Now, these will be different from the leg. The area isn't fully healed, so these can be fixed implants rather than appended, done before you go home so that dratted Bifrost doesn't interfere with the site preparation. I think you'll find them much easier to use, much more natural, especially if grafted onto the nervous system directly..." He snapped his fingers again, and his sons zoomed forward and began taking detailed measurements of Loki's stumpy arms, using their own handheld scanning devices to examine every tissue layer in minute detail and muttering dimensions to Bolli, who was furiously recording everything in a notebook.

After a moment, Loki interrupted Ulric's prattling. "Frigga must have told you, Master Ulric, that I intend to complete the Final Boast and ask the Allfather to grant me the Peace of Valhalla upon my return to Asgard."

Ulric huffed into his beard, but the other dwarves continued their activities. "Yes, I know. I wish you wouldn't."

"If you were even to finish in time, your work would see limited use, I'm afraid."

Ulric rolled his eyes. "Of course we will be on time. We can be finished within days, if we must, and don't try to tell me an Asgardian farewell ceremony could be completed before I'm done, even if you left tonight! I've sat through them before. Plus, I've heard rumors I'm not the only off-worlder planning to pay my respects. Trust me, it's going to take at least a week before everyone who wants to show up and say 'thank you very much' has done so."

Loki raised an eyebrow and glanced at Thor, who nodded, looking a little guilty. So, Thor was trying to turn this into a Triumph, rather than a farewell. He should have guessed. But he smiled at Ulric. "I take it a week's worth of advertising is still enough to satisfy you?"

"Well, I'd prefer a thousand years of lording your patronage over that nitwit Dvallik, but a week displaying my work before all the lords of the Nine Realms 'ain't too shabby' as the humans say."

"I see your point."

"And," Ulric said mischievously, "if my hands don't persuade you not to kill yourself, nothing will."

"Convince Thor of that, and I might even delay my death an extra week, just for you."

"Your will be done, your highness!" Ulric shouted excitedly. "Bolli! Are you finished yet? Then come on! We have work to do!" He whirled around and grabbed Thor's hand, practically dragging him from the room. "Your highness! Other highness! Prince Thor, if you would be so kind as to escort us out and help get your gatekeeper's attention, I must show you my designs! You will be astounded..."

"See you later, Thor," Loki called after them, with an evil grin.

The sudden silence as the door thudded closed again was rather shocking. Agent Barton cleared his throat. "Are they always like that? So energetic and..."

"Perky?" Dr. Banner suggested, at the same time Agent Romanoff said "pushy?", Captain America said "happy?", Stark said "hilarious?", and Doctor Strange said "weird."

"Mmm...yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. You get used to them." Lady Natasha snorted. Loki ignored her.

"Are they really going to make you new hands?" Strange asked, voice filled with genuine wonder and a touch of wistfulness.

"I expect so. Ulric is an artist and a businessman. Creating new hands for someone like me is something that hasn't really been done before. He sees it as a challenge, and as a business opportunity. He'll gain a lot of prestige among his people, and that is probably more important in the long run than the actual price of the commission. That fame will endure even if I don't..."

Loki listened to himself speak as if detached. His voice was without emotion, merely supplying information to his companions. Loki realized he truly wasn't excited about the prospect of new hands, though it also did not upset him. They simply didn't matter to him. Loki felt nothing but the call of oblivion. Everything else was just a barrier to peace, a final hurdle to overcome, not an alternate road. But Ulric had left sketches to review and approve, and Loki had no doubt the King and Queen of Asgard would be perfectly willing to delay the ceremonies if a gift like this was known to be waiting in the wings. He would have to cooperate. "Now then, gentlemen, lady, I believe I must call upon the talents of our good Doctor Strange, in private conference. We must reconsider the plan for the next few days in light of Master Ulric's demands."

Stark shrugged. "Let me know if you need anything. A lab, supplies, whatever. Loki, Pepper said you're going in the suite across from Thor. It's right down the hall and to the left..." He trailed off as Strange lazily opened a glowing orange portal to take the two sorcerers directly into the suite and Loki directed the wad of papers to float through onto the waiting desk. "Or you could just do that." He gestured to the other Avengers. "Come on, gang. I vote icecream before the actual government employees have to split."

Author's Note: Did you know they make 5000-piece puzzles of the Sistine Chapel ceiling?