Chapter 3: Not all dwarves

"I shall be married come spring." Hlóriði said, laying his head on the cool wood of the pub table. Vidar placed a hand on his back comfortingly, looking to Freyr for help, who shrugged.

"Just think about it," Tyr quipped. "All that money from the bride's dowry. So much you could buy. So much you could do. And hey, you could give some to your beloved Sif." Hlóriði sniffled, grunting as he sat up.

"There is no beloved Sif. She never forgave me for Loki's dark deeds." Hlóriði replied, sniffling and wiping froth from his beard. Vidar grunted and pulled out a chair to sit beside the distressed god of Thunder.

"Well, if there is truly nothing to be done of the matter… then you are stuck. Destined to marry a short, and hairy man from Erebor. Who probably has a knob for a nose, and a large- "Tyr was cut off from his rant by Vidar staring him down with a glare that could kill.

"Nay. I refuse to see him, if he is as ghastly as you say, I don't even think I'll be able to consummate the marriage…" Hlóriði sighed, running a hand through his tangled, golden mane.

"Don't worry. His looks will be the least on your mind." Hlóriði piped up to the sound of Loki's voice.

"What do you mean?" Hlóriði questioned? Tyr, Vidar and Freyr took the intrusion as their leave, and left the two to converse.

"Well, you do know what his grandfather died of, am I correct?" Hlóriði shook his head. "Old age I presume."

"No," Loki licked his dry lips and spoke, "In Erebor, lies a mass collection of gold and jewels. So much that you can swim in it and never come across the same jewel. While mining, as dwarves usually do, they came across a majestic jewel, so precious, so enchanting that it possessed the mind of King Thror, he soon became addicted to his wealth, they called it, "Dragon Sickness. But you'd know it as the curse of Andvari's hoard." Loki stared at Hlóriði, eyes holding something unfamiliar to the God.

"You lie?" It seemed more of a question.

"I do not. It has already overcome Thrain, and I suppose it would have Frerin, had he lived long enough... and of course, it will consume Hlóriðiin, your bride." Hlóriði stood abruptly. "You feed me lies, still your tongue Loki! Nothing but a liesmith, A liar!." He stormed off, rage bubbling off of him like that of a witches cauldron. Loki situated himself at the table. He didn't lie… not this time. He frowned in confusion. Why didn't Hlóriði trust him? Was he not good enough? If it weren't for him, Hlóriði would already be dead! If it were not for him, Hlóriði would have been stuck with Sif, a maiden not suitable for his brother.


Hlóriði awoke to a heavy feeling in his gut. Something he hasn't felt in years….fear. Why was he afraid, and what of? It couldn't possibly be Hlóriðiin that arose such a damned feeling. Hlóriði got up, legs weighed down and stiff. Maybe a bath would do him fine. Waltzing from his chambers, he made way to the washing halls. It was empty- except for the small black cat stretching on the pools edge.

"Good morning Loki." Hlóriði greeted the cat, stripping down and slipping into the steaming water with a sigh. Loki, then morphed into his human form, long pale limbs and a rosy face from the steam gathering in the enclosed space. He smiled.

"Well.. You are up at an untimely hour. What bothers your mind dear nephew?" Loki questioned, slipping in next to Hlóriði. "I would like to know what keeps my brother-son from his slumber.." Loki asserted, placing a hand on Hlóriði's muscular shoulder, who tensed.

"... What you said. About Thorin. I fear it may be true after all. Father seems to be hiding, and mother says nothing but soft words of consolation. I am no child Loki. I am the future King of Asgard and I demand to know what my bride is burdened of." His voice was grave and something rumbled in his chest. Loki offered his infamous grin.

"I've read many scrolls on the illness, first thought to only affect the dragons of middle earth…" Loki smoothed gentle hands through his hair, picking through tangled strands carefully. "Though that was a fairly latent idea, for the illness attacked the mind as a whole."

"But what does it do?" Hlóriði interrupted. "Should I worry I might catch it?"

"We giants have no record of bearing the sickness. It only attacks those who are bred from gold-the mountains. The dwarves, the men, and the dragons. There are many books of it in the west wing. It would not kill you to glance them." Hlóriði sighed, cupping water in his broad palms to wet his face.

"Ride out with me to see him. You can distract my father." Loki hummed, long fingers tapping against his chin.

"Give me time to think about it.."

"We don't have time. It is only a matter of months before I am to be brought to him." Loki clicked his tongue, moving to duck himself under the water.

"You and I both know I do not aid.. without some retribution of course."

"Please Loki. I will forever be in your debt."

"As much as it kills me to refuse you, I have to decline your majesty. You see, I have things of my own in need of tending. Ta ta." And just like that, Loki was out of the water and disappearing behind the great oak doors.

"Damnit." He cursed. There was no more to offer the trickster, so his hopes were dampered. He just needed to see the dwarf once before they wed. If he still looked the same as he did all those years ago however….

FLASHBACK

"Vidar! Hlóriði! Tyr!" Frigga called, watching as three young boys came racing up the broad stone stairs leading to the castle.

"Ha! I win thrice more!" The thinnest boy boasts, he is the tallest, having red hair and sinewy limbs built for speed.

"By only a grain of sand." Came the second tallest boys reply. He was more firmly packed, and stocky, hair just as red, but sporting more of a blonde tinge. "Vidar and I could've beaten you had you not gotten a head start."

"Lies." The first boy says laughing. "I Tyr Odinson am the fastest boy in all of Asgard. Admit your defeat." Hlóriði clonked Tyr in the back of the head. "Ouch!"

"Boys, no hitting!" Frigga chided, smiling at her sons. "Go wash your faces, and prepare for dinner. We have guests."

"Where from." Hlóriði questioned, tying his hair back. "Elves or men?"

"Neither." Frigga replied. "Dwarves." Three pairs of eyes widened.

"Dwarves?" Tyr repeated. "But why here? Shouldn't they be watching their gold?" Hlóriði snorted,

"Not all dwarves." Hlóriði answered. "Does this have to do with what father told me?" Frigga nodded, ruffling the boy's hair. "So I'll go dress for the occasion… does that mean I have to braid my hair?!"

"Not unless it is what you desire. Now hurry along, Vidar come with me." Vidar nodded, wobbling on his feet, wooden leg keeping him off balanced. She took his small hand, leading him up the the stairs after the boys. "We're going to the nursery with Hodr and Baldr. Doesn't that sound fun!" She cooed, pinching his nose. Vidar frowned pointing to his two brothers who were racing through the halls to get to their rooms.

"I'm afraid not my love. It is time for your nap- yes I know you are five, but all the reason for you to have your rest." Vidar pouted, attempting to pull away from Frigga. "O please Vidar, do not fight me."

"Frigga." The woman turned to see her husband, silvering red hair and beard, his one blue eye piercing into her like a blade. She bowed respectively, kissing her husband on the cheek. "They'll be here any minute. Everything is ready. Where is Hlóriði?"

"I just sent him off to dress. Is there something wrong?" Frigga's brows turned down in concern as she asked this.

"Oh thankfully not. I only wished to see him seated before our guests arrived. He is to sit at the head after all." Frigga smiled proudly, matching the grin on Odin.

"I believe if this goes through… If they do in fact get along, imagine the realms Odin. I-"

"Hlóriði mustn't know until after the feast. So as to not twist his judgement."

"I understand." Frigga said regaining her neutral mask.

No sooner, Hlóriði came down the stairs, dressed in his royal blue robes, matching the ones of his brothers and sisters' in color, but far more intricate. His red hair was loose with two braids clipped behind his head to keep them from his face. Frigga kissed his cheeks, telling him he was as handsome as his father.

"Mum, nooo I am not a baby. Kiss Tyr." He groaned, squeezing from her grasp.

"They're here, they're coming!" One of the servants announce. Hlóriði self-consciously straightened in his chair, he saw his sister Valkyrie do the same, adjusting her braids and smoothing the front of her dress. Hermodr and Vali stopped kicking each other under the table, Bragi and Sigi shoving rolls into their tunics before the dinner could start. Trumpets blaring, Hlóriði watched anxiously as the large Oak door of the dining hall were opened and an assemblage of dwarves spilled in.

"Welcome, Thrain, son of Thror son of Dain… to Asgard." Odin greeted, standing up from his chair. The dwarf that appeared to be Thrain, bowed in respect to the King of Asgard.

"It is an honor to be before you Allfather." And they took their seats. Thorin didn't notice there were children amongst the group of Royals, until one sat itself in front of him. He had really dark and thick black hair, reaching his shoulders, and the start of stubble on his face. He wasn't broad or ugly like his kin, soft features that had a lost or almost melancholy appearance for someone his age. Well he looked to be Hlóriði's age, thirteen, but he couldn't tell with dwarves. The dwarfling didn't spare him a glance, keeping his eyes reverted to his plate as he ate. The other two children were much younger than this one, laughing and very talkative with his siblings. The girl called herself Dis, she wasn't as loud as her blonde brother Frerin, but just as lively.

"My mummy made me this, I call her Vaina." She showed Valkyrie her little doll, cloth-stuffed and fair with a dark beard and hair. Valkyrie smiled at her, despite being too old to have any interest in dolls.

"I have many dolls, but I am much too old for them. I could show them to you after dinner?" Dis nodded happily, putting her doll on her lap as they began to eat. Thrain and Odin talked simple business, about the lands in Middle Earth, or Niðavellir as they knew it, and the Dragon that attacked it not too long ago.

"Mora, my wife had the children in the nursery when It collapsed. Hlóriðiin had to get them out… of course by the time I came Mora had already died." Thrain spoke sadly, still harboring the grief of a husband, and some blame for his father. "I told the man it was too much, but he insisted it was for Erebor."

"You're name is Thorin?" Hlóriði found himself asking. The dwarf looked up at him, thick brows furrowing.

"Aye." He answers shortly. "And you are Hlóriði." Hlóriði nodded, smiling at the smaller boy.

"How do you like the food?" Hlóriði adds, wanting to say more. "I don't think it's like the food you have where you live, but we have the best boar and ale." Hlóriði explained, shoving over a frothy mug of amber liquid. Thorin stared at it with disinterest.

"What do I do with it?" He then asked, pulling it towards him. Hlóriði chuckled.

"You're supposed te' drink it. Of course it isn't as strong as my da's but it's just as good." Hlóriði egged the dwarf on. Thorin stared into the cup, smile licking at the edges of his mouth. He took a sip, savoring the taste..

"It's good." Thorin starts. Hlóriði smiles, nodding. "But not more so than ours."

"Is that a challenge to Asgard's ale? I have you know it's been brewed by the gods."

"Eh maybe." Hlóriði was proud of himself, for making the dwarf smile, for it looked so natural on his face. The way his cheeks flushed pink, eyes alight with laughter after a few mugs of ale.

"To long lives and love?" He toasts to the prince.

"If ye can find it." Thorin quipped. He had the strange urge to push the stray lock of hair behind Thorin's ear, the long curl seemingly out of place, but Thorin had already done it.

"You have quite a few beads. They're really nice." Hlóriði compliments. "Where's that one from?"

"This one?" Hlóriði looks to the gold bead hanging on a braid to the left of his face. "My grandfather had it made for me when I was born. It represents my house."

"Durin." Hlóriði infers. "It's well worn."

"And this one, I took from one of the merchants in the Iron Hills. It has brought me good luck so far…"

"I like that one, it brings out your eyes. What about that one?" Hlóriði asks, pointing to twin beads on two braids framing his face. They were crudely shaped, and seemed to have been forged by an amature.

"My friend made me those. Warrior beads he says." And Thorin touches them fondly, Hlóriði seeing the affection masked in the dwarf's eyes. "He is training to become a blacksmith. That's his brother, Balin." Thorin said, pointing to a dwarf with fair hair and eyes. His long beard matched his hair, well groomed with a bit of a sweep.

"Why didn't the blacksmith come?" Hlóriði questions.

"He's away in the Iron Hills. Though he told me to bring him back a trinket."

"We have many of those my prince. I could gift you one of my own, should you promise to watch it as if it were one's own." They stare into eachothers eyes for what seems like an eternity, Thorin's pale blue, and his stormy blue a mix of hidden emotions. Thorin breaks the gaze when he looks down to stuff a mix of chicken and sauce into his mouth.

"So…" Thorin says awkwardly leaning back in his chair and stretching. "How old are you?" Thorin raises a brow, gulping down his ale and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Twenty-five." Hlóriði's heart drops.

"Twenty-five?" He repeats.

"Yep." Thorin bites off a piece of bread chewing, then it stops slowly. "I suppose we'd be the same age though if our ages were ya know, the same. When I went to Dale, I couldn't do the things other twenty-five year olds could. To us, they would be at least eighty. Every dwarf year is five years for men."

"Good. I mean, that's- well now we can talk without it being weird."

"Hmm." Hlóriði continues eating himself, letting out a loud burp when he finished, to which the women looked unimpressed, and the men and children laughed. It hadn't been intentional, not really.

"In the winter, we have sweet ice. The maids gather snow and sweeten it with honey and fruits. Have you had it?" Hlóriði asks, gaining the attention of Thorin's younger siblings.

"O, yes! Don't you remember Thorin when we went to Vili's house for Jul?" Dis exclaims. "It was the yummiest!" Hlóriði laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Yes I guess it is."

"When's the sweets coming out?" Frerin questions, unclipping his hair to let it hang wild. "I want cake."

"Soon. The maids wait until the last fork is set down. The adults are still eating."

"Aww." Dis says pouting, placing her arms across her chest.

"How long did you ride little Dis, Frerin?" Hlóriði asks, putting his fork down into a licked clean plate. Dis looked to her brother.

"I dunno. We departed from Ered Luin two days ago. Rested in between. I slept most of the way." Frerin laughed sheepishly at the end. He, like Thorin, had a furry chin, so he presumed they were around the same age. Thorin had to be older however, because he was Thrain's heir.

"Look little one's here they come." Valkyrie says, tapping Sigi and Bragi's shoulders to look to the plates of dessert the maids and servants were bringing in.

"Sweeties!" Dis squeals, the children bouncing in joy as the dinner plates were exchanged for pastries and cakes. Thorin unconsciously wet his lips, Hlóriði's eyes trailing to them.

"Which are your favorite?" Hlóriði asks Thorin.

"Snúður." Thorin answers without hesitation. "Yours?"

"I like Julekake drizzled in honey and lingonberry jam. You should try it sometime over a cup of Karsk." Thorin asserted

"Do you put sugar in your Karsk?" Frerin asked, licking the powdery sugar from his fingers. "A bit bitter without."

"You shouldn't even be drinking that stuff." Valkyrie said overhearing their conversation. "It is a man's drink."

"I am a man." Frerin retorted. "Want proof!" He wagged his eyebrows like a dog, groaning when his foot was stomped on by Thorin under the table.

"You are a silly lot." Vali says, passing Dis a slab of cake. "Say I wish you could come over for Jule. We rarely have children to play with other than each other."

"Plus, there is only two girls. Freya and I, another would serve us well." Valkyrie adds, "The boys will have no chance with our small army. Surpassing their strengths and vanquishing them like the mists of Nifelheim."

"I would like to see you try." Tyr says, sending a challenging glare their way. Valkyrie smirked.

"Wouldn't you like to see your brothers tails between their legs Dis? Show them humility?" Dis nodded.

"Then we shall not wait, after dinner we will each assemble into forces. Husband against wife, sister against brother.

"The snow is heavy out there children, you might be swayed from your games until morrow." A Vanir woman says, Freya and Freyr's mother.

"Nay, war is not waited out until the sun resurfaces. We will fight like warriors!" Tyr exclaimed, raising a biscuit before tossing it to Bragi.


Thorin let Dwalin out after a few hours of silent drinking, choosing to bring the night to an end. Face red from the alcohol, he climbed beneath warm sheets.

"Marry Hlóriði Odinson." He says, recounting the letter. Yes, he remembered the name, and the face. Tall proud child with fiery red hair. Haughty in his house, while maintaining enough civility and kindness to be spared of disliking. Of course they were merely children when they met, and he alone had gone through so much change through the course of his life. No longer the lean sinewy limbed dwarfling back then, but a broad skilled warrior, built to rule. Thorin could only imagine what Hlóriði could look like now, fifty years later. Turning over, he placed a hand over his face, willing sleep to come so he could address matters with the council.