Libri, the great scholar and the team captain of the Icy Boar Snowball Team, sat thoughtfully for a long time. Then he rushed away and was never seen again. That is, until he came back with a book which he was examining.

-This old book mentions something about Midgard I think. Libri said.

-Does it say how to get there? Halvdan asked.

-Not as such. I did however come across some kind of reference to a magic bridge or portal that should lead from Midgard to another realm. The bridge is called Bifrost and rainbow-coloured, or maybe it is a rainbow? But how can a rainbow be used as a bridge?

-Where should we look then? Runar wondered. Rainbows appear in many places.

-Hmm, perhaps it is connected with a certain type of rain or a certain climate. My advice would be that you visit notably different climate zones and also as many other archives and libraries as you can to find out more. This archive does not contain very much about weather, of course with the exception of snow and snowballs.

-Good idea. Speaking of which, you will have a tough time now that we are away from the team. Have you thought of any replacements?

-I was thinking of Ebba Oakenshield. She has gotten really accurate these last two winters.

-Good thinking, but isn't she going out with Narfi? Because then she would probably like to be on the right flank with him instead of our places on the left.

-We could move the Copperkeg twins from the cente. That would weaken our centre but we could compensate by changing tactics to surround the opponents more…

-Yes, like we tried against the Blue Hammer team last year; that looked promising…..

The discussion had turned into a very trivial gossip about the latest local sports news and discussions about who was going out with whom. It was most unworthy of mythological creatures like dwarfs, who were supposed to be constantly busy with crafting axes and armour and raiding caves filled with mithril. Luckily, the important things had been said and the readers could continue directly to the next day, when Runar and Halvdan met king Dain to discuss their travelling plans. Dain was with his ministers in the conference hall as usual. He listened to them telling of Midgard with much interest.

-Hmm, Midgard…I have never heard of it. Dain said. Yet the name does not seem unfamiliar, for some strange reason. Perhaps it is really the realm of the dwarfs and that is why the name appeals to us.

-I and Halvdan wish to find Midgard, or at least a way to get there. Runar said. We will travel across known and unknown lands of Middle Earth with your permission and look for clues.

-We could indeed use some more knowledge of the world around us. It is not a bad idea at all…I shall finance your expedition!

-A most prudent decision, sire.

-Remember to obtain as much information about foreign lands as possible and sign agreements with everyone you can.

-Yes my liege. Said Halvdan and Runar at the same time. Onward!

The two happy dwarfs eagerly equipped themselves with Dains most expensive and stylish light armour, pickaxes, cloaks, backpacks and tents. They packed their favourite goblets and all sorts of maps that the dwarfs had access to. And in the middle of the summer of 2980, they set out from Erebor and started the great journey west. The plan, or the lack of plan if you like, was to begin with seeking out the elves in Mirkwood. Thranduils people were somewhat reluctant allies of Erebor and Dale since the battle of five armies, but elves and dwarfs had a very strained relationship and frequently made nasty jokes about each other. The visit to them was worth a try though. Mirkwood was at least on the way west anyhow.

They travelled west through the land of the men of Dale and followed the rudimentary roads without any trouble except the sub-dwarven-standard beer in the taverns. They were beginning to feel a little uneasy. They were nearing the important crossroads where the road to the northwest joined the road, or trail, deep into Mirkwood to the southwest.

-How do we find this trail? Runar asked.

-Well the trail should be easy to find, or rather, a trail should be easy to find. The problem lies in determining which trail is the right one. Halvdan replied.

-How is that? Are there not any signs or something?

-Yes, and therein lays the problem. The old Roadmaster and Transport Supremo of Dale, Wulfric the Witty, spent his entire career thinking up clever ways to name roads and landmarks in Dale and to mark them out…

-And presumably he did think up some way to point out the right path to Mirkwood?

-Yes, and he planted a natural landmark that would stand for generations as well as fit perfectly with the aesthetics of the landscape…

-Well that sounds goo…PLANTED!? He…?

-…He marked out the trail to Mirkwood by planting a tree beside it.

-But Mirkwood is the largest known forest in Middle Earth! How are you supposed to recognise one single tree among those multitudes?

-Precisely my point.

- ...

Eventually they were able to get reasonably good directions. The people of Dale had lived near and in the forest for a long time hiding from enemies who had the upper hand, and could direct the dwarfs to a number of small roads that led into the woodlands. Wulfrics sign was indeed a famous landmark. It was so famous that no fewer than 14 trees had been nominated by the local populace to be the actual tree planted by him. Disputes over which one were the correct one had led to no end of petty feuds between the woodcutters and carpenters that lived there and all wanted to use the tree as a trademark.

Runar and Halvdan marched deeper into the woods. They were now in the real forest where tree after tree obscured the view in each direction. It was harder to keep track of the sun with all the leaves in the way, but thankfully the weather was still clear. After about two days of walking in the forest they were finally met by the elves, who greeted them with the usual elven politeness, but at least it was in the common tongue;

-You dwarfs breathe so loud we could have shot you in the dark.

Runar sighed inaudibly. Evidently the level of diplomatic courtesy of these people was even lower than diplomatic manuals and lectures had warned about.

-In the common tongue we say "good afternoon". He replied with a bored voice.

-We have been spotting you for two days. We know of your quest and shall guide you to our lord Thranduil.

-Excellent. May I just inquire why you have waited until now to reveal yourselves?

-We have been very busy. Are you not surprised that we could spot you for so long time and remain unnoticed?

-Ummm…no? Hiding in the hugest forest in the world doesn't seem so hard, especially not if you are immortal and have lived here for some centuries. I mean, seeing as how you can talk to trees and animals it's not exactly hard for you to scout unnoticed, is it? And your cloaks and clothes have this super-camouflage-grey colour that you have told the major part of the world about. More than once. Several times if I recall correctly. I suppose one could call it many times as well. Furthermore, it is not like we have been trying to hide. Being diplomatic envoys, being spotted by you is sort of the point with our visit here.

-I…er…maybe you have a point there. But this is unfair! You are supposed to be impressed by our unearthly wisdom and grace. Like the rest of the world.

-Such as?

-Oh, lots of people, like…uhm…hobbit gardeners?

-Hobbits, who are of course the pinnacle of maturity, wisdom and knowledge…

-It's not fair!

-I suppose that with millennia of time the world eventually gets used even to such revolutionary things as elves. I would also like to point out that I find it somewhat strange that creatures with immortality, named unearthly skills and items and constant free tickets to the blessed realm of Valinor would have anything to say about unfairness.

-All right, all right!

-By the way, what were you busy with? It's not another goblin raid approaching, I hope? Runar added and looked concerned.

-Oh no, nothing of that sort. Just important elvish business.

-Like wandering aimlessly among the trees, singing hymns about your precious Elbereth, writing poems about what the elves were up to several thousand years back and marvelling at the presumably magical light from stars?

-What! How did y…NO! Nothing like that I ASSURE you!

-Of course not. How could I even think about it. You elves never do any of those things.

-Hmph! Let us continue to the halls of Thranduil.

-Excellent idea. Lead the way, good pointy-eared sir!

And so the party set off under continued taunting, deeper into the green realm…