(Disclaimer: These MARVELous characters do not belong to me. Except maybe Isaz mwahahaha.)
Isaz is a runic alphabet and means 'ice' in Old Norse. I thought it was pretty apt for Loki's horse to be named that. ;)
Kæru Dagbók,
I have not been able to confide in you the past days, for I was preoccupied.
Everytime I see Sif and her black hair I am reminded of what I had done. And I feel guilty. I wanted to give Sif something to replace what I'd taken from her so selfishly. I wish I knew how to do that myself, but I don't, and I don't know enough magic to do so.
So the morning after the feast I decided to somehow get a headpiece for Sif that looked just like her former golden locks.
Mother once told Thor and I about the black elves – the dwarfs living in Nidavellir. Mother said the dwarfs are the best craftspersons in all the Nine Realms.
I didn't tell anyone what I was planning to do. I told Mother I was going to take Isaz (my horse) to the hills. Father was busy as usual and Thor was with his friends so I didn't have to worry about them hawking after me. I brought along with me the map Father gave Thor and I when we were studying Asgard geology so there wasn't much trouble for me to find my way to Nidavellir.
I rode Isaz way past the hills, and by late afternoon I had reached the caverns. I have never been to Nidavellir before, nor anywhere beyond Asgard, and I admit I was a little anxious. The lands were an odd colour, and it was all barren with some cliffs and mountain-like formations scattered in a mess. Isaz was very very uneasy, and it took some coaxing before he trotted deeper into the black fields. I should have known Isaz's fear was justified.
The next thing I remember was waking up in a strange-smelling place. It was dark. Something was prodding my ribs. That something turned out to be the first dwarf I ever laid eyes upon. I introduced myself as Odinson, a prince of Asgard, and demanded that I be brought to the Sons of Ivaldi at once. He did, but only after many rounds of (truly unnecessary) persuasion and convincing.
I realised I was no longer above ground, but underneath it in the caves. I was led through the tunnels which eventually led to a dwarf-sized underground cave thing. The dwarf who found me made me sit on the cold hard stone and told me to wait before he scampered off. It was really dimly lit inside. I never got to meet the Sons of Ivaldi myself, and they sent a messenger to talk to me. I told them the purpose for my visit, and gave them until the next morning to craft a golden headpiece. The messenger told me they accepted my proposal, and that it was to be delivered to Asgard by the following dawn.
When I was left alone, a figure appeared from the shadows. The dwarf introduced himself as Brokkr, and he told me he had listened to my conversation with the messenger. I was annoyed at that point, and I asked him what is was that he wanted.
He said, "I bet on my head I can forge a greater, much more beautiful headpiece than the Sons of Ivaldi."
I laughed at him. Father's magnificent spear was created by the Sons of Ivaldi themselves. Who could ever do better than them?
He said again, "I bet on my head for yours that my brother and I can make a better headpiece. Tomorrow, the Allfather himself will decide which of ours are superior than the other."
I was a fool to have accepted his bet.
I somehow made my way back above ground, and found Isaz not far from where I emerged. The sky was dark, and I knew by the time I reached Asgard it would be night.
Father was enraged when I finally reached the palace, and he demanded to know where I had gone. He was angry I left Asgard without him knowing. I knew Heimdall would have said something to him, and it would be pointless to lie, so I told him anyway. I did not tell him of my deal with that damned Brokkr, though. Father refused to listen to my reasons for visiting Nidavellir and simply dismissed my words.
The dwarfs were true to their word and they had entered Asgard and stepped into Gladsheim by dawn. Brokkr was there as well, with another dwarf (probably his brother) accompanying him. He gave me a sharp grin as I followed Father into the hall. Finally the headpieces were presented before him, and Father took a moment to study them.
"So which is it you find better?" Brokkr had asked, a twitch of a smile lurking at the corner of his lips.
Father picked one, and as he held it in his hands, nodded slightly to himself. I knew the headpiece Father held in his hands did not belong to the Sons of Ivaldi, for Brokkr broke into a menacing grin, and lunged towards me. His claw-like fingers clasped my arm tightly and he pulled me to him. Father had stood up from his throne, clutching Gungnir with a hand, but Brokkr snarled at him. I was shocked the bloody dwarf dared face my Father.
"You cannot help him, oh mighty Odin. He has made a bet, and he will pay the price for his foolishness."
Brokkr grabbed a clump of my hair and yanked my head back. I had felt the cool metal of his dagger touch my neck, but before he could dig it deeper, I yelled at him to stop. I said he couldn't take my head because doing so would take away part of my neck, which wasn't in the bet. He growled at me and dropped the dagger, but held me firmly in place.
"You deceiving wretch," he had said. And before I knew what he was doing I felt a sharp pain on my lip. The damned dwarf was sewing my lips together!
I had screamed at him to stop, but he didn't. I struggled so much but Brokkr pinned me to the floor. I couldn't do anything. I remember screaming for Father, but he just stood there, not moving, and watched. He just watched.
I had never felt so scared in my life. I had never felt so humiliated.
The thread cannot be cut. I tried. I cannot eat. I cannot drink. I cannot talk. I am so very ashamed of myself. I locked myself in my room. I want to be left alone. I've sealed my door with a spell. The bleeding has lessened. I can taste blood in my mouth. My lips are sore. I am so very tired, but I cannot sleep.
Vinur þinn,
Loki