11. MAGMA ASSAULT.
"Do we have to wear these?" Sam asked, struggling with a coat of mail a few inches too short for him. "I mean - I feel ridiculous got up like this."
"It's necessary," said King Eitri, standing beside him in the palace armory. "You will need it when the dark elves attack, given that you and your friend are the one whom they seek most. You will need to adequately protect yourselves in the fighting."
"Right now, I'd rather have my training uniform," Sam replied. "At least it's not quite so heavy."
"Yow!" cried one voice, dividing into several voices. Sam, Eitri, and Hlevang turned to see Jamie, having donned his own chainmail byrnie (which was, at least, the right size for him), lose his balance and land on the floor, dividing into several Jamies as he did so.
"I still find that particular feat more than a little - peculiar," Hlevang commented.
"Yeah, it takes a little getting used to," said Sam. "At least they don't last for very long." Even as he spoke, the duplicate Jamies winked out.
"It's a pity that your friend is so young and small," said King Eitri. "Imagine if a doughty warrior were to have such a gift. He could become an entire war-host, capable of driving back everything that the dark elves were to throw at us."
Before Sam could reply, another dwarf entered the armory. "Your Majesty," he said to King Eitri.
"Yes, Vit?" King Eitri asked. "What is it?"
"The sentries at the western gate report dark elves approaching," said Vit.
"How many?" the dwarf-king asked.
"Only a small troop, but all well-armed and on horseback," said Vit. "Less than a hundred, they say."
"Do they bring a siege train with them?" Hlevang asked. "Because that is what they will need to breach our defences. Swords and spears will not be enough to fulfill the task."
"There is no sign of any siege engines in their company," said Vit. "But there is one matter that is most strange. There is a young girl accompanying them."
"Amara?" asked Sam, his ears pricking up at the dwarf's words. "Is it her?"
"I know nothing of this Amara, so I cannot say," said the dwarf messenger hurriedly. "But she does not appear to be of your kind. She seems rather to be a dark elf, one of the folk of Svartalfheim rather than Midgard."
King Eitri frowned. "We must to the western gate at once, to learn what is going on," he said, taking up his axe. "Follow me, all of you!"
"What?" asked Jamie, looking bewildered.
Sam hurriedly straightened out the boy's helmet, so that he could hear better. "The dark elves have a girl with them," he said, "but if it's Amara, then something weird's been going on here. We're going to find out. Come on."
"Oh," said Jamie. Still struggling under the weight of his arms and gear, he followed Sam and the dwarves out of the armory, and off to the western gate.
* * *
The troop of dark elf knights rode towards the dwarf-gate, faces grim beneath their conical helmets. When they were a little more than a bow-shot from the rock wall, they halted, except for their leader. Raising one hand in the traditional gesture of parley, he rode forward to the gate.
The dwarf-doors were shut, but the gatekeepers were gazing out through narrow windows at their unwelcome guests, weapons at the ready. King Eitri, Hlevang, and the two mutant boys were standing beside them, looking intently at the dark elves. But it was the girl with them who received their fullest attention, especially that of Sam and Jamie.
"That's Amara?" Jamie asked, sounding bewildered. "But - what happened to her?"
"I honestly don't know," Sam replied. "But if it's her, then she's really changed."
While the girl on horseback beside the dark elves resembled Amara Aquilla in many ways - she had the same long black hair and dark complexion, for one - her features were different. Her face had the elongated, almost alien look to it borne by the dark elves, with enormous eyes, a small, pointed chin, and a nose so tiny as to be almost invisible. Her ears were enormous and sharply pointed at the tips. Her face remained blank and expressionless, and she sat in her saddle stiffly, like a marionette.
"If that is your friend, then they must have altered her by some dark sorcery," said King Eitri. "I wonder.... You say that she fell unconscious after eating the food that Ivar Hakonson had prepared for you?"
"Yes," said Sam. "Just before those guys showed up and made off with her."
"And neither of you partook of it?" the dwarf-king continued.
"No, sir," Sam answered. "She was the only one who had any of it."
"Then that may explain it," said King Eitri. "I have heard that the dark elves have certain foodstuffs which transform those Midgarders who partake of them into their own kind. It is very possible that the food which Ivar gave you was of that nature."
"Rahne said that there was something bad about it," Sam admitted. "I guess that her nose wins again."
Before King Eitri could reply, the leader of the dark elf knights reached the gate. In a loud voice, he called out "Is anyone here who will treat with me?"
"I am here," King Eitri called out. "I, King Eitri of Nidavellir, speak. Whom is it that I am exchanging words with?"
"I am Heimir of Svartalfheim, a great lord among the dark elves," said the knight. "In the name of Loki Laufeyson, rightful master of the nine worlds, I bring you this message. We understand that you are sheltering within your halls two fugitives from Midgard, the lawful property of Loki. We demand that you yield them up to us. Do so, and Loki will be merciful unto you. Refuse, and things will go far less well for you."
"You and your master have no writ here," replied King Eitri. "And we certainly know Loki well enough to know that his word cannot be trusted. Begone from Nidavellir."
"You are being very foolish to resist us so," said Heimir. "If you defy us, we will breach your defenses, put you to the sword, and place the yoke of slavery upon the necks of your people. Are you indeed willing to risk your kingdom for the sake of two lads that are not of your kind?"
"You and your forces pose no threat to us," Eitri said in response. "Or are you unaware of the fact that the gates of Nidavellir are too strong for you to breach? Even had you a proper siege train with you, you would not prevail, and all that you have is a small company of knights. It will take more than swords and spears to prevail against stone."
"Quite correct," said Heimir, nodding. A cold, thin smile was upon his face. "We have something much better." He turned back to Amara. "Attack," he told her.
With a stiff nod, Amara dismounted from her horse, and walked forward, until she stood beside Heimir. Then she stretched out both hands towards the stone gates, and shot out a blast of flame at them from her finger- tips, shifting into her fiery form as she did so.
King Eitri stared at the sight before him in disbelief. "Your friend," he said, turning to Sam and Jamie. "Was she - always like this? If I did not know better, I would believe her to have come from Muspelheim, rather than from Midgard."
"No, that's just her mutant ability," said Sam. "She was like this back home. Well, except that she wouldn't go around burning things down for the bad guys, the way that she's doing now."
"At least she cannot endanger us that much," said Eitri. "After all, fire cannot burn stone."
"That is no mere flame that she is sending against us," said Hlevang concernedly. The stone gates were beginning to glow red, growing uncomfortably warm. The dwarves behind them were falling back, as the heat grew stronger. "It is the fury of a fire-mountain. She is making the doors molten."
"We have to stop her," said King Eitri. "Though how, I do not know. Any spear that we hurled at her, or arrow that we shot at her, would be consumed to ashes before it even reached her."
"You're not going to hurt her!" cried Sam at once. "I mean - Amara's our friend!"
"Then do you have a means of preventing her from forcing her way into Nidavellir without harming her?" asked Hlevang. "For we certainly know of none."
Sam turned to Jamie. "Got any ideas?" he asked.
The younger boy shook his head. "Do you?" he asked.
"Not a one," said Sam. "But there's got to be some way of cooling her down - wait a minute, that's it!" He paused. "Oh, bother! The one time that Bobby could do us some good, and he's not here!"
"What are you talking about?" asked King Eitri.
"Well, Your Majesty," said Sam, "do you have any ice handy? Preferably a lot of ice?"
"Well, we do keep some on hand in our storerooms," said the dwarf-king. "It helps to preserve our food, so that it will last longer."
"Then we'll need all that we can," said Sam. "If we could use it on Amara, maybe it could slow her down long enough for us to find some way of snapping her out of it."
"But won't we need a lot of ice for that?" Jamie asked.
"Probably," said Sam. "Maybe even a small glacier."
"I do not know that we have that much ice on hand," said King Eitri. "But I suppose that we must make do with what we have."
* * *
"I still find this plan more than a little unsettling," Hlevang was saying, as dwarf after dwarf brought a bucket filled with ice up to them. By now, Amara had almost melted her way through the gates, and the gateroom itself was now empty, having grown too uncomfortably warm for them. "This ice is necessary to preserve our food; without it, it will spoil."
"I agree," said King Eitri solemnly. "But this may be the lesser of the two evils. If that daughter of Muspell is not checked, we will have much greater things to worry about than a shortage of supplies."
A few dwarves, alongside Sam and a temporary small army of Jamies, were quickly working on some sort of complicated machine. It looked a bit like a small catapult, but with six ladles, each one filled to the brim with ice. Sam turned away from it, towards Eitri and Hlevang. "It's almost done," he said.
"Is it going to work?" asked Jamie, as all of his duplicates merged back into a single 12-year-old.
"I hope so," said Sam. "Because I don't have a Plan B."
He stood by the machine's winch as the stone gates finally melted away under Amara's fiery blast. Still in her magma form, she strode into the entrance hall, heading straight towards them almost inexorably.
"All right," said Sam, pulling the winch hurriedly. "It's now or never."
The ladles all shot up, hurling their frozen contents straight at Amara. The first few blocks of ice melted and evaporated as they neared her, but the remainder descended upon her in a pile. A cloud of steam issued forth, filling the chamber.
Sam, Jamie, and the dwarves all frantically waved the steam away from their eyes. When it had cleared, Amara was standing before them, back to flesh- and-blood again, blinking bewilderedly.
"Yes!" cried Sam eagerly. "It worked!"
"For the moment, at least," said King Eitri. "But for how long will she remain that way?"
"I don't know," the youth replied. "But we'd better finish the job now, before she can try it again." And with that, he ran straight for the mutant girl. Amara cried out briefly as he grabbed hold of her. "What do you think you're doing?" she shouted. "Put me down, now!"
"Well, that certainly doesn't sound like a trance," said Sam, pulling her back. "Still, just to be on the safe side...."
"We've other matters than her to worry about," said King Eitri grimly. "Here come the real foes."
The dark elves were riding towards the cave entrance. They were proceeding cautiously, for the rock where the doors had stood was not quite cooled down as yet, so their horses could not ride over it. But they were advancing, all the same.
Eitri and Hlevang turned to the dwarf soldiers gathered behind them. Each one bore a small pouch in one hand. "Now!" shouted the dwarf king.
The dwarves pulled small lumps of iron out of the sacks, and hurled them at the dark elves. Heimir and his followers fell back, crying out in alarm at the barrage of iron. Before they could recover, the dwarves drew out iron- headed battle-axes, and charged forward, shouting grimly.
But there was no need for them to use their weapons. Heimir turned to his followers and cried out, "Fall back! Fall back now!"
The dark elves retreated out of the tunnel, if in good order. At a signal from King Eitri, some of the dwarves hauled a block of stone forward, to block the entrance, once the rock had cooled down enough for them to tread safely on it.
"That will do for a makeshift, while our stonewrights build fresh gates," said Eitri. "Let us be grateful that we have taken the dark elves' living weapon from them. They cannot use her for a second attack now."
"But is it safe to have her here?" Hlevang inquired concernedly. "If she is now within Nidavellir, she might well be able to threaten us from within."
"Don't worry," said Sam. "I think that she's snapped out of it."
Amara was staring up at him and Jamie, her eyes focused now, as though she was waking up from a long sleep. "All right, where are we?" she asked. "Somebody must have moved me while I was out of it. And while we're at it, where's Rahne? And why are you two wearing all that armor? And who are all these little people?"
"You don't remember what happened to you?" Sam asked.
"Not since I passed out," she said. "I woke up, to find myself down here, wet and cold." She wrung out her hair a little more, a disgusted expression upon her face. "Would you mind explaining to me just what happened?"
"Well, that's kind of difficult, actually," said Sam, "since we missed most of it ourselves. But - well, you got kidnapped by those knights that we ran into when we first got here, and when you showed up next, you were looking really weird and attempting to break into this place for those knights."
"Looking really weird?" asked Amara sharply. "I trust that you were not deliberately trying to be insulting, Samuel Guthrie."
"No, it's not that at all," said Sam. "It's just that - well, have you looked in a mirror lately?"
"What are you talking about?" Amara asked. But even as she spoke, one hand strayed up to her face, felt her pointed chin, almost non-existent nose, then her severely enlarged and pointed ears. "What - what happened here?"
"The dwarves here say that you ate some sort of food that turned you into a dark elf," said Sam. "It looks as if you're still one, too, even if you've been snapped out of that trance."
"Aahhhh!" cried Amara. She had just pulled her compact mirror out of her pocket, and was now staring in horror at her altered features. "I look like a freak!"
"Well, you said it, not me," said Sam quickly.
"I hope that there's a cure for this condition," Amara went on, "or else, the moment that we get back to the Institute, I'm going to have to ask the Professor if he's got another image inducer like Kurt's. I am not going out in public looking like this."
"So, is there a cure?" asked Sam to King Eitri.
"I honestly do not know," the dwarf-king replied. "We've heard tales about those who were transformed by faerie food, but never anything about a way to undo the enchantment. And since such a thing has never befallen a dwarf, but only Midgarders, finding a cure never seemed necessary to us."
"Well, it's necessary now," said Sam.
"I'll say!" put in Amara. Jamie nodded in silence.
"What do you think, Hlevang?" King Eitri asked, turning to his chancellor. "Would we be able to find a cure?"
"There is a possibility," said Hlevang. "Our hall of records may contain the information that we need in order to undo whatever it is the dark elves have done. The damsel here is not the first victim of their food, so our gathered lore may include a possible antidote."
"Then let's start looking right away!" Sam cried.
"We will also have to continue to keep watch," said King Eitri troubledly, addressing the dwarven soldiers. "The dark elves will not give up so easily. I fear that they will soon return, especially now that they have three Midgarders to seize hold of, rather than only two. We may be in for a long war."
* * *
"And so this is how we fare," said a dark elf knight in disgust. He and his comrades sat in a semi-circle in the clearing where they had encamped before the first assault upon the dwarf-halls, all in a poor mood. "Beaten back by dwarves, and as though that was not enough, we lose our Midgarder charge! Well-fought, indeed!"
"Peace, Edric," said Heimir grimly. "This is only a brief setback. We will recapture her, and the other two younglings as well. And we will make the dwarf-folk pay for this defeat."
"So what are we going to tell Loki?" asked another dark elf.
"Nothing, as yet," Heimir replied. "He does not need to know, yet. Rather, we will continue to search for a way of entering Nidavellir, and regaining our prisoners. We will find a way in, if it takes us a century. Upon my sword, this I vow."
"Do we have to wear these?" Sam asked, struggling with a coat of mail a few inches too short for him. "I mean - I feel ridiculous got up like this."
"It's necessary," said King Eitri, standing beside him in the palace armory. "You will need it when the dark elves attack, given that you and your friend are the one whom they seek most. You will need to adequately protect yourselves in the fighting."
"Right now, I'd rather have my training uniform," Sam replied. "At least it's not quite so heavy."
"Yow!" cried one voice, dividing into several voices. Sam, Eitri, and Hlevang turned to see Jamie, having donned his own chainmail byrnie (which was, at least, the right size for him), lose his balance and land on the floor, dividing into several Jamies as he did so.
"I still find that particular feat more than a little - peculiar," Hlevang commented.
"Yeah, it takes a little getting used to," said Sam. "At least they don't last for very long." Even as he spoke, the duplicate Jamies winked out.
"It's a pity that your friend is so young and small," said King Eitri. "Imagine if a doughty warrior were to have such a gift. He could become an entire war-host, capable of driving back everything that the dark elves were to throw at us."
Before Sam could reply, another dwarf entered the armory. "Your Majesty," he said to King Eitri.
"Yes, Vit?" King Eitri asked. "What is it?"
"The sentries at the western gate report dark elves approaching," said Vit.
"How many?" the dwarf-king asked.
"Only a small troop, but all well-armed and on horseback," said Vit. "Less than a hundred, they say."
"Do they bring a siege train with them?" Hlevang asked. "Because that is what they will need to breach our defences. Swords and spears will not be enough to fulfill the task."
"There is no sign of any siege engines in their company," said Vit. "But there is one matter that is most strange. There is a young girl accompanying them."
"Amara?" asked Sam, his ears pricking up at the dwarf's words. "Is it her?"
"I know nothing of this Amara, so I cannot say," said the dwarf messenger hurriedly. "But she does not appear to be of your kind. She seems rather to be a dark elf, one of the folk of Svartalfheim rather than Midgard."
King Eitri frowned. "We must to the western gate at once, to learn what is going on," he said, taking up his axe. "Follow me, all of you!"
"What?" asked Jamie, looking bewildered.
Sam hurriedly straightened out the boy's helmet, so that he could hear better. "The dark elves have a girl with them," he said, "but if it's Amara, then something weird's been going on here. We're going to find out. Come on."
"Oh," said Jamie. Still struggling under the weight of his arms and gear, he followed Sam and the dwarves out of the armory, and off to the western gate.
* * *
The troop of dark elf knights rode towards the dwarf-gate, faces grim beneath their conical helmets. When they were a little more than a bow-shot from the rock wall, they halted, except for their leader. Raising one hand in the traditional gesture of parley, he rode forward to the gate.
The dwarf-doors were shut, but the gatekeepers were gazing out through narrow windows at their unwelcome guests, weapons at the ready. King Eitri, Hlevang, and the two mutant boys were standing beside them, looking intently at the dark elves. But it was the girl with them who received their fullest attention, especially that of Sam and Jamie.
"That's Amara?" Jamie asked, sounding bewildered. "But - what happened to her?"
"I honestly don't know," Sam replied. "But if it's her, then she's really changed."
While the girl on horseback beside the dark elves resembled Amara Aquilla in many ways - she had the same long black hair and dark complexion, for one - her features were different. Her face had the elongated, almost alien look to it borne by the dark elves, with enormous eyes, a small, pointed chin, and a nose so tiny as to be almost invisible. Her ears were enormous and sharply pointed at the tips. Her face remained blank and expressionless, and she sat in her saddle stiffly, like a marionette.
"If that is your friend, then they must have altered her by some dark sorcery," said King Eitri. "I wonder.... You say that she fell unconscious after eating the food that Ivar Hakonson had prepared for you?"
"Yes," said Sam. "Just before those guys showed up and made off with her."
"And neither of you partook of it?" the dwarf-king continued.
"No, sir," Sam answered. "She was the only one who had any of it."
"Then that may explain it," said King Eitri. "I have heard that the dark elves have certain foodstuffs which transform those Midgarders who partake of them into their own kind. It is very possible that the food which Ivar gave you was of that nature."
"Rahne said that there was something bad about it," Sam admitted. "I guess that her nose wins again."
Before King Eitri could reply, the leader of the dark elf knights reached the gate. In a loud voice, he called out "Is anyone here who will treat with me?"
"I am here," King Eitri called out. "I, King Eitri of Nidavellir, speak. Whom is it that I am exchanging words with?"
"I am Heimir of Svartalfheim, a great lord among the dark elves," said the knight. "In the name of Loki Laufeyson, rightful master of the nine worlds, I bring you this message. We understand that you are sheltering within your halls two fugitives from Midgard, the lawful property of Loki. We demand that you yield them up to us. Do so, and Loki will be merciful unto you. Refuse, and things will go far less well for you."
"You and your master have no writ here," replied King Eitri. "And we certainly know Loki well enough to know that his word cannot be trusted. Begone from Nidavellir."
"You are being very foolish to resist us so," said Heimir. "If you defy us, we will breach your defenses, put you to the sword, and place the yoke of slavery upon the necks of your people. Are you indeed willing to risk your kingdom for the sake of two lads that are not of your kind?"
"You and your forces pose no threat to us," Eitri said in response. "Or are you unaware of the fact that the gates of Nidavellir are too strong for you to breach? Even had you a proper siege train with you, you would not prevail, and all that you have is a small company of knights. It will take more than swords and spears to prevail against stone."
"Quite correct," said Heimir, nodding. A cold, thin smile was upon his face. "We have something much better." He turned back to Amara. "Attack," he told her.
With a stiff nod, Amara dismounted from her horse, and walked forward, until she stood beside Heimir. Then she stretched out both hands towards the stone gates, and shot out a blast of flame at them from her finger- tips, shifting into her fiery form as she did so.
King Eitri stared at the sight before him in disbelief. "Your friend," he said, turning to Sam and Jamie. "Was she - always like this? If I did not know better, I would believe her to have come from Muspelheim, rather than from Midgard."
"No, that's just her mutant ability," said Sam. "She was like this back home. Well, except that she wouldn't go around burning things down for the bad guys, the way that she's doing now."
"At least she cannot endanger us that much," said Eitri. "After all, fire cannot burn stone."
"That is no mere flame that she is sending against us," said Hlevang concernedly. The stone gates were beginning to glow red, growing uncomfortably warm. The dwarves behind them were falling back, as the heat grew stronger. "It is the fury of a fire-mountain. She is making the doors molten."
"We have to stop her," said King Eitri. "Though how, I do not know. Any spear that we hurled at her, or arrow that we shot at her, would be consumed to ashes before it even reached her."
"You're not going to hurt her!" cried Sam at once. "I mean - Amara's our friend!"
"Then do you have a means of preventing her from forcing her way into Nidavellir without harming her?" asked Hlevang. "For we certainly know of none."
Sam turned to Jamie. "Got any ideas?" he asked.
The younger boy shook his head. "Do you?" he asked.
"Not a one," said Sam. "But there's got to be some way of cooling her down - wait a minute, that's it!" He paused. "Oh, bother! The one time that Bobby could do us some good, and he's not here!"
"What are you talking about?" asked King Eitri.
"Well, Your Majesty," said Sam, "do you have any ice handy? Preferably a lot of ice?"
"Well, we do keep some on hand in our storerooms," said the dwarf-king. "It helps to preserve our food, so that it will last longer."
"Then we'll need all that we can," said Sam. "If we could use it on Amara, maybe it could slow her down long enough for us to find some way of snapping her out of it."
"But won't we need a lot of ice for that?" Jamie asked.
"Probably," said Sam. "Maybe even a small glacier."
"I do not know that we have that much ice on hand," said King Eitri. "But I suppose that we must make do with what we have."
* * *
"I still find this plan more than a little unsettling," Hlevang was saying, as dwarf after dwarf brought a bucket filled with ice up to them. By now, Amara had almost melted her way through the gates, and the gateroom itself was now empty, having grown too uncomfortably warm for them. "This ice is necessary to preserve our food; without it, it will spoil."
"I agree," said King Eitri solemnly. "But this may be the lesser of the two evils. If that daughter of Muspell is not checked, we will have much greater things to worry about than a shortage of supplies."
A few dwarves, alongside Sam and a temporary small army of Jamies, were quickly working on some sort of complicated machine. It looked a bit like a small catapult, but with six ladles, each one filled to the brim with ice. Sam turned away from it, towards Eitri and Hlevang. "It's almost done," he said.
"Is it going to work?" asked Jamie, as all of his duplicates merged back into a single 12-year-old.
"I hope so," said Sam. "Because I don't have a Plan B."
He stood by the machine's winch as the stone gates finally melted away under Amara's fiery blast. Still in her magma form, she strode into the entrance hall, heading straight towards them almost inexorably.
"All right," said Sam, pulling the winch hurriedly. "It's now or never."
The ladles all shot up, hurling their frozen contents straight at Amara. The first few blocks of ice melted and evaporated as they neared her, but the remainder descended upon her in a pile. A cloud of steam issued forth, filling the chamber.
Sam, Jamie, and the dwarves all frantically waved the steam away from their eyes. When it had cleared, Amara was standing before them, back to flesh- and-blood again, blinking bewilderedly.
"Yes!" cried Sam eagerly. "It worked!"
"For the moment, at least," said King Eitri. "But for how long will she remain that way?"
"I don't know," the youth replied. "But we'd better finish the job now, before she can try it again." And with that, he ran straight for the mutant girl. Amara cried out briefly as he grabbed hold of her. "What do you think you're doing?" she shouted. "Put me down, now!"
"Well, that certainly doesn't sound like a trance," said Sam, pulling her back. "Still, just to be on the safe side...."
"We've other matters than her to worry about," said King Eitri grimly. "Here come the real foes."
The dark elves were riding towards the cave entrance. They were proceeding cautiously, for the rock where the doors had stood was not quite cooled down as yet, so their horses could not ride over it. But they were advancing, all the same.
Eitri and Hlevang turned to the dwarf soldiers gathered behind them. Each one bore a small pouch in one hand. "Now!" shouted the dwarf king.
The dwarves pulled small lumps of iron out of the sacks, and hurled them at the dark elves. Heimir and his followers fell back, crying out in alarm at the barrage of iron. Before they could recover, the dwarves drew out iron- headed battle-axes, and charged forward, shouting grimly.
But there was no need for them to use their weapons. Heimir turned to his followers and cried out, "Fall back! Fall back now!"
The dark elves retreated out of the tunnel, if in good order. At a signal from King Eitri, some of the dwarves hauled a block of stone forward, to block the entrance, once the rock had cooled down enough for them to tread safely on it.
"That will do for a makeshift, while our stonewrights build fresh gates," said Eitri. "Let us be grateful that we have taken the dark elves' living weapon from them. They cannot use her for a second attack now."
"But is it safe to have her here?" Hlevang inquired concernedly. "If she is now within Nidavellir, she might well be able to threaten us from within."
"Don't worry," said Sam. "I think that she's snapped out of it."
Amara was staring up at him and Jamie, her eyes focused now, as though she was waking up from a long sleep. "All right, where are we?" she asked. "Somebody must have moved me while I was out of it. And while we're at it, where's Rahne? And why are you two wearing all that armor? And who are all these little people?"
"You don't remember what happened to you?" Sam asked.
"Not since I passed out," she said. "I woke up, to find myself down here, wet and cold." She wrung out her hair a little more, a disgusted expression upon her face. "Would you mind explaining to me just what happened?"
"Well, that's kind of difficult, actually," said Sam, "since we missed most of it ourselves. But - well, you got kidnapped by those knights that we ran into when we first got here, and when you showed up next, you were looking really weird and attempting to break into this place for those knights."
"Looking really weird?" asked Amara sharply. "I trust that you were not deliberately trying to be insulting, Samuel Guthrie."
"No, it's not that at all," said Sam. "It's just that - well, have you looked in a mirror lately?"
"What are you talking about?" Amara asked. But even as she spoke, one hand strayed up to her face, felt her pointed chin, almost non-existent nose, then her severely enlarged and pointed ears. "What - what happened here?"
"The dwarves here say that you ate some sort of food that turned you into a dark elf," said Sam. "It looks as if you're still one, too, even if you've been snapped out of that trance."
"Aahhhh!" cried Amara. She had just pulled her compact mirror out of her pocket, and was now staring in horror at her altered features. "I look like a freak!"
"Well, you said it, not me," said Sam quickly.
"I hope that there's a cure for this condition," Amara went on, "or else, the moment that we get back to the Institute, I'm going to have to ask the Professor if he's got another image inducer like Kurt's. I am not going out in public looking like this."
"So, is there a cure?" asked Sam to King Eitri.
"I honestly do not know," the dwarf-king replied. "We've heard tales about those who were transformed by faerie food, but never anything about a way to undo the enchantment. And since such a thing has never befallen a dwarf, but only Midgarders, finding a cure never seemed necessary to us."
"Well, it's necessary now," said Sam.
"I'll say!" put in Amara. Jamie nodded in silence.
"What do you think, Hlevang?" King Eitri asked, turning to his chancellor. "Would we be able to find a cure?"
"There is a possibility," said Hlevang. "Our hall of records may contain the information that we need in order to undo whatever it is the dark elves have done. The damsel here is not the first victim of their food, so our gathered lore may include a possible antidote."
"Then let's start looking right away!" Sam cried.
"We will also have to continue to keep watch," said King Eitri troubledly, addressing the dwarven soldiers. "The dark elves will not give up so easily. I fear that they will soon return, especially now that they have three Midgarders to seize hold of, rather than only two. We may be in for a long war."
* * *
"And so this is how we fare," said a dark elf knight in disgust. He and his comrades sat in a semi-circle in the clearing where they had encamped before the first assault upon the dwarf-halls, all in a poor mood. "Beaten back by dwarves, and as though that was not enough, we lose our Midgarder charge! Well-fought, indeed!"
"Peace, Edric," said Heimir grimly. "This is only a brief setback. We will recapture her, and the other two younglings as well. And we will make the dwarf-folk pay for this defeat."
"So what are we going to tell Loki?" asked another dark elf.
"Nothing, as yet," Heimir replied. "He does not need to know, yet. Rather, we will continue to search for a way of entering Nidavellir, and regaining our prisoners. We will find a way in, if it takes us a century. Upon my sword, this I vow."