CHAPTER 11 Dear Land of the Dwarves
You pull me through these stories you create
And I'm waiting for the big charade to stop
And hoping that you soon will realize this is a big mistake
And graciously decide to drop me off
-Lightning Twice by Spiraling
They landed abruptly in a windy valley, Steve's breath caught in his throat as his stomach lurched. Once he was sure he wasn't going to throw up, he drank in the new surroundings.
They were in the shadowed boughs of gray evergreens, spindly and threadbare. The trees were not the green Steve associated with living things. Instead, the trunks were a sickly brown; the needles a dull gray.
Beside them, water stumbled over a rocky bed to where it joined a large, black lake that reflected the gray mountains. Steve looked up. The evening's late rays cast everything in deep shadows and the setting sun was already behind the mountains, leaving the sky a fiery red. It was the only color in this strange land. As the mountains climbed, splinters of clear cut trees stood against steep and rocky mountainsides, giant boulders posed precariously against the slopes. Steve searched for a route up. To his dismay, there was none.
"That was the Bitforst." Loki glanced at Steve before he quickly began picking his way up the mountain. Steve stood rooted.
"Where are we going?"
"We must find an opening to the Duergar's halls. Your people call them Dwarves."
"Dwarves?"
"Short angry people, prone to fighting."
"I want to know what the hell is going on," Steve said, crossing his arms awkwardly over his plated chest. "I've been a pretty good sport, but your parents have been vague and I want to go home. I don't need this shield, Tony'll make me one. He owes me."
Loki sighed explosively, throwing a disgusted look over his shoulder. "They're not my parents," He sneered.
"Whatever," Steve said, proud to use the word Tony had taught him as casual slang.
Loki gave him an appraising eye. "I will explain once we've reached the entrance. We do not want to be here after dark. The Svartalfar walk these lands."
"Who?"
"The Dark Elves," Loki explained. His tone asked, don't you know anything? And in Steve's defense, there were a lot of sagas in that book, and no, he didn't know everything.
But if the other elves had been the good ones, Steve didn't want to meet these ones. He hurried to catch up to Loki, who had already begun his ascent.
The going was tough. The slope was loose with rocks that gave easily. Steve found his feet slipped frequently on the barren rocks, creating a small slide of growing stones that rolled and bounced into the valley. Every time he fell, his wounds pulled, causing his breath to snag in his chest. Steve watched the sky occasionally, the first stars heralding the quick approach of night.
"What happens when the sun sets?"
"Many years ago there was a great war in Alfheim. A number of elves were cast out or immigrated to these lands. They found the deceit of the Light Elves unsettling, and preferred to settle their differences openly. When they lost, they came here, to the realm of the Dwarves.
"The Dwarves live below these mountains, in deep caverns. The Elves cannot live in the absence of the sun, so they settled into an uneasy truce. They live here, among these broken trees and in the valleys, and only to a certain depth in the ground.
"They have all the glamour available to them as Elves, and they are dark and as twisted as this land. They care not for outsiders, and as there are no large beasts here, have found that we are suitable game. They are excited for the chase, but they come only when the sun sets."
Loki's moved as a cat, careful but sure with his footing on the treacherous mountainside. Steve tried to follow the same footing, but often found himself slipping as rocks rolled out from his feet.
The strange sounds of the songbirds faded as the last rays of the setting sun faded.
"We must hurry," Loki's pace quickened. "They are here."
Steve looked up. They still had several thousand feet to clear before they reached the tree line. They weren't going to make it. His eyes scanned their surroundings, looking for a defensible position. Despite the rocky terrain, there was little in the way of cover.
They ran.
Steve felt before he heard the creature at their back. He rolled away just in time as a large bolder that seemed to be all teeth steamrolled past. It spun on them with an agility that belied its mass. It was huge and gray, its massive arms wrapped in vines studded with long thorns.
"What is that!" Steve yelled.
"That," Loki said as he swung his staff, "Is a Dark Elf."
"It's a monster!" Steve said, knocking at a thorny arm that reached towards them.
"That is its glamour," Loki loosened a blast as the Elf attacked, and phasing in behind the creature as it rolled too close.
A dart flew past him and bounced harmlessly against the slope. Steve watched as the rocks steamed and dissolved as the tip hit them.
"We are surrounded," Loki said in Steve's ear as he phased in behind him, grabbing Steve's arm before he could pull away. There was a moment of vertigo and when Steve righted himself, he was by the lake. It stretched out in the valley, the surface abnormally smooth, reflecting the distant sky in eerie perfection.
"Do not stare too long," Loki warned. Steve averted his gaze from the water that was also the sky. He had thought, for a moment, to walk on its surface. He would be walking in stars.
"What is this?"
"We are in the land of the Niorun. The water-wights live here. We tread carefully."
"I thought we needed to find a cave?"
Loki glanced at him. "We were surrounded and outnumbered. We do not want to cross the Dark Elves. I transported us."
"Yeah, but why here?" Steve persisted. "Why not to the mouth of the caves?"
"Because," Loki spat, "I can only transport us to places I have been."
Steve looked around them, careful to skip his eyes over the huge black lake. The banks were white stones, each one glimmering in the moonlight. They were perfectly in shape; all smooth and nearly equal to another. The abnormality of perfect stones set Steve's teeth on edge. "You've been here?"
Loki glanced at Steve with a barely contained eyeroll. "Should I be redundant?"
"So who is Niorun? And what are water-wights?"
"Niorun is the goddess of dreams. The water-wights are here. See for yourself."
The water stirred and Steve watched as a creature broke the surface. It had straggly green hair like seaweed, its skin a sickly white. Its face went was flat to the mouth, where a flat slit that opened to reveal several rows of tiny, sharp teeth. It was soon joined by several others, raising just far enough out of the water to glare at the pair with black unblinking eyes. The first one to rise smiled at them, its thin mouth curling up too far, nearly reaching the plane of where its ears should've been. Steve shuddered.
"A mortal, and Loki the Liesmith also the Silvertongue and Sky-Traveler." Its voice was raspy, like the winter ocean against rocky shores. "It has been many moons."
"Water-wight, we seek safe passage through this realm in search of Brok and Eitri."
The creature considered them for a moment before it turned, the motion against the water causing no ripples. It spoke rapidly in a foreign language to its peers. Long arms that ended in webbed fingers splashing against the lake whenever it seemed to make a point. Its fellow creatures splashed back, careening in their own voices until they'd seemed to reach a consensus. Steve thumbed the hilt of his sword uneasily.
"Nothing comes without a price," The designated speaker of the water-wights turned back to them.
Steve stepped back, flashing a look at Loki. He had paid enough.
Loki shifted beside him, palming a golden gem, perfectly tear dropped, flawless in its quality. "It is a tear of Queen Frigga."
The wights grew excited, rapidly conversing in their high, indecipherable language. Something slapped the surface and Steve saw a scaled tail slip under the water. Steve glanced at Loki, wondered if he knew what they were saying.
"We accept," The leader said. "Safe passage, for the tear." And the creatures moved, pulling the water with them. A path opened up across the lake bottom, the walls of the lake held at bay.
Loki stepped forward, clenching the gem. Steve hesitated before stepping onto the wet rocks.
They crossed the rocky lake bottom, mindful of the flapping fish that had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Steve knew how they felt. They had done no wrong except to be caught in the webs of beings greater than they who could affect their universe.
He wanted to save them all.
Steve stared a moment at the dying fish before he hurried to catch up to Loki. Steve knew that even if he could swim in this armor, the water-wights would tear him apart before he reached the surface. He found it ironic that he had to trust the master liar, but he had seen shadows moving in the trees behind them and knew it wouldn't be long before the Dark Elves attacked them again.
The water-wights tracked their movement on the other side of the wall, occasionally treading water to stare at them. Steve stared back, realizing that there were corpses suspended in the water, bulbous eyes staring out at them from bloated faces. "Who are they?" He whispered to Loki. Rheumy eyes followed their path across the lake bottom.
"Those are the sailors who were lured to doom by the Water-wights. They are collected in this lake until Ragnarok, when they will fight."
"But they're so-" ugly, but the word died on his lips as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, a water wight staring intensely at him.
"They can be quite beautiful, and the song they sing tempts all men."
"It's a terrible fate."
Loki shrugged. "No worse than any other. They should have been more careful."
"Is that a threat?"
"Dear Captain, I would have little need in threatening you. I would just do."
The lake bottom was littered with the treasures of crashed ships; gems and gold that glittered under the distant moonlight, sodden silks and wools in a myriad of colors. Steve glanced down as he felt a snapping beneath his feet, a cracked skull grinning brokenly up at him.
"That one was dead before they crashed," Loki told him.
Steve squared his shoulders and focused on a great stone outcropping at the center of the lake. The walls of water stretched several hundred feet above them on both sides. "This is another entrance to Niðavellir, I have been here once before, when they forged Laevatein for me," Loki indicated his staff.
Steve glanced at the weapon. "I did not know it had a name."
"Without a name, it is useless. Everything is."
Loki pressed his hand against the door and whispered a word. The granite folded and slid away, revealing tall stone stairs that stretched upwards into a damp gloom. Steve hesitated for just a moment before stepping across the thresh hold. Loki turned and placed his mother's tear on the lake bottom before the heavy door slid closed. Steve saw a scaled hand reach out to grab it as the water came crashing down.
The air inside the tunnel was stale and cool, the sound of dripping water and a subterranean brook the only noise in the black caves. There was no natural light, and Steve felt the primal fear born from being in absolute darkness curl around him. Loki's staff lit up, casting the stonewalls in a sickly blue light.
Steve didn't think it was much better.
"We go up," Loki said.
After step 1,049 (Steve had counted) they could see a faint, warm light in front of them. Drawing towards it, Steve felt the ground begin to level, the steps becoming less severe. He stumbled as he reached his last one, his legs used to the motion of climbing. The walls opened up into spacious halls that reflected the scattered light cast from interspersed crystal prisms embedded in the walls.
A short, stunted creature with beady eyes and a long, gray beard rushed past them. He carried a bucket of rocks and barely spared him a look. He spat on the ground as he passed them.
"Is that a-?"
"A dwarf, yes," Loki said. "Come."
"Why are you doing this? Taking me here? I could've come alone, I—"
Loki pulled up short and turned abruptly, his visage curled in a rage that Steve thought was unfounded. "You stupid man," He ground out. "My mother's curse was more clever than I knew. Although that abominable plant is physically gone, the bind it wrought remains. You and I are intertwined for all eternity. Even as you must die, so shall I. That, foolish mortal is why I am here. I am not ready to die should you perish on this journey!"
"No one ever is," Steve said, Bucky's surprised face flashing across his memory as he fell into the frozen valley.
Loki scowled. "I have sought all my life to be beholden to none, and yet I find myself bound to you. I cannot lie nor hide my intentions. Worse," Loki continued, "I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything."
"I owe you everything. You saved me, and you traded the thing that meant most to you for it. I may be devious and a liar," Loki's face curled around the words, "but even I cannot ignore this debt."
"I absolve you of it," Steve said firmly. "I didn't do it so you could be indebted to me."
"Then why?" Loki demanded, his green eyes meeting Steve's. He closed the space between them, and Steve fought the urge to step back, his hackles bristling. "My own family has never done such a thing."
"Because..." Steve began, fumbling for words. He found he couldn't break Loki's gaze. "Because you are not so different from me."
"We are nothing alike," Loki sneered.
"In the ice fields of Niflheim, I told you of a great doctor," Steve began uneasily.
"I remember."
"Before him, I was fragile and weak. He saw something nobody else did and made something great from it. In Alfheim, you saved me when you could've left me for dead. You are the Trickster God. You could have figured out a way to dispose of my body and this...bond between us before it was completely forged with no harm to yourself. But you didn't."
"I still needed you."
Steve gazed at the troubled god, unwilling to acknowledge the lie.
Loki made an exasperated sound. "You're too much like Thor, if you are like anyone."
"No," Steve said sharply. "Thor has never wanted for anything. His strength and friends come as easily to him as loneliness comes to you or I."
Steve stopped abruptly. He hadn't meant to say that.
"You are Earth's hero. Presume to compare us again and I'll forget the debt I owe."
"I'm Steve. Just Steve Rogers. I'm just another guy, and I'm no one's hero. Anybody would die for a chance to make the world a better place."
"Am I a chance to make the world a better place?" He sneered. "You say you were ready to die for me."
Steve hesitated. "I don't know."
Loki laughed humorlessly. "I assure you, I am not." He turned and continued down the dimly lit tunnels.
As they walked the halls, the walls slowly great more ornate and the population increased. Dwarves worked on detailed carvings embedded with gold and gems. The floor grew smoother and the intervals of the glowing crystals increased. Smaller rooms jettisoned off from the main hall, covered by swaths of flowing textiles that softened the harsh stone.
The hallways opened up into a larger room. Steve could hear singing and the metallic clinging of things being forged. As they walked, Loki reached into his robes. He proffered a jug to Steve. "Mead," He said.
"No, thanks."
"Not for you." Loki rolled his eyes. "As a gift, for Brok and Eitri. The Dwarves are great metalsmiths, but they are greedy and can be tricky."
"Well, that's a surprise."
"They like mead, gold, and sweets," Loki palmed a sugary candy in the shape of a spider. "All the more so if they are oddly shaped."
With all the rules, Steve couldn't shake the feeling he was only playing with half a deck.
The temperature of the caverns increased, the distant roar of a fire and the smell of smoke heavy in the air. They could see the firelight of the forge reflected off the cave walls and heard the sound of metal clinking before they saw it. They rounded a curve, the halls opening into a cavernous room that revealed a pair of dwarves. One was bent over an anvil hammering industriously. The other was cooling something in water with tongs, steam rising into the air. Sweat poured from their faces, their shirts cut to reveal muscled arms. Although they both wore long, grey beards, their faces were ageless.
They stopped working as the pair entered the room. "Loki Liesmith," The one at the anvil acknowledged. Steve wondered if maybe Loki lied so much because people expected it of him.
"And a mortal. A human, is it?" The other one asked. He placed the tongs down, stepping away from his steam bath.
"Brok and Eitri," Loki nodded his head in respect, and Steve wasn't sure which one was which. "We come bearing gifts." He proffered the candy and heavy bag weighed down with what Steve could only assume was gold. At Loki's glance, he proffered the jug of mead.
The dwarves took the items greedily. The one Steve guessed was Brok peered into the bag. Apparently pleased with what he saw, he gave them a measuring look. "I suppose you want something forged."
"This is Steve Rogers, my...companion," Loki ground out. "He has lost his shield in his travels. It was the greatest shield I have ever beheld, impervious to all manner of attack, be it physical or magic in nature. Despite seeing multiple battles, the shield neither dented nor warped."
"Who made it?" Eitri asked.
"A Midgardian," Loki's mouth turned up in a smirk as both Dwarves recoiled.
"That's impossible," Brok spat. "You're a liar. Everyone knows it."
"But I am not," Steve said. "And it's true. I had it by my side for seventy years and it never shattered or betrayed me. It absorbed the impact of anything that hit it."
Both Dwarves were visibly upset. They stomped around and muttered curses into their beards.
"And one more thing," Loki said.
"What?" Brok grumbled.
"A suit made of cloth, lighter and more agile than metal yet harder to pierce and invulnerable to any magic, impervious to all manners of weather."
Eitiri roared as he threw down his tongs. "You ask too much!"
Loki reached over and plucked the bag of gold from the anvil. "Then I shall seek my business elsewhere."
Brok reached out quickly, grabbing the bag. "No. We can do it. It will take six months time, but it shall be done."
"You have one week," Loki said. "These are the designs," He slapped pictures down on the table. Among them was one of Steve's old cards, smeared in dried blood. His heart twisted.
The Dwarves yelled and blustered, stamping their feet and indignantly crying "Impossible!" and "Blasphemy!" Loki waited until Brok reached forward to grab the plans, shuffling through the pages. His eyes lingered on the card, and he cast a bushy eyebrow at Steve, appraising him.
"Fine," Eitiri seethed, snatching the sketches of Steve's shield out of Brok's hands.
"And," Loki leaned in, his eyes flashing, "it shall not be cursed. Should I find you have twisted the items in anyway, I shall feed you to Nidhogg and he will munch on your bones even as you live."
Both Dwarves stilled, paling beneath their ruddy complexion. Brok roughly uncapped the mead and swallowed deeply.
"We will not curse these items," Eitiri said.
"Swear it."
"We swear it."
Loki waited before nodding. "Fine," He said.
"One week," Eitiri said.
"We will wait," Loki said.
Before they left, the Dwarves took Steve's measurements and sent them on their way, their grumbling and cursing following them down the halls.
"They seemed angry."
"It is their way."
"As lying is yours?"
Loki shrugged.
"So what now?" Steve asked.
"You wait," Loki said simply.
Steve shifted his weight. "What about you?"
"I have a visit to make. I will return shortly."
"I'm not going to wait here alone!"
"You may wander these halls, but be mindful. The Dwarves have been known to steal humans into these halls, never to be seen again."
Steve glanced around him, his jaw clenching. "How long are you going to be?"
"I'll be back in under the hour. I would take you, but my friend...is unkind towards mortals."
"I don't trust you."
"Fine, come if you want. It's your flesh he'll be after, not mine."
Steve glanced at a stone bench carved from the walls. "One hour."
For stone, the bench was surprisingly comfortable.
0o0o0o0o0o
Singing and clanking filled the air, forming a rhythmic sound that lulled Steve into a meditative state. Time warped around him. Questions skipped across his mind, and if he allowed himself to dwell on it, the hole in his chest great and festered. He grew aware of his injuries, felt the blood drip down his back and pool in his armor. He tried to ignore all of it, grimacing when he was unsuccessful.
Steve forced his mind outward, thinking about the other caves he'd been in, retracing the steps they'd taken to get here. They'd been utilitarian, if not a little sinister, in their use. There was a strange beauty here. Unmined veins of gold and silver glittered light from the nearby forge. Steve observed the carved stories of Dwarven warriors.
He wished he had his book of sagas here.
Loki's light, even steps drew Steve's attention.
"How was your trip?"
"Fine," Loki said, handing an apple to Steve. "Hungry?"
Steve took the apple, perfect and red in shape. "Really?"
"The Dwarves do not taint their food the way Elves do. Regardless, I brought this from Asgard. It is safe."
His stomach growled, his mouth watering in anticipation. Loki sat down beside him and casually ate from his own apple. Hesitating only a moment longer, he made quick work of the fruit.
Loki wordlessly handed him a flask. "Just water."
It had a distinctly earthy taste but it was the best water he ever had. He dropped the flask, feeling embarrassed for drinking it before asking if Loki needed it. Loki seemed amused by Steve's guilty look.
"I am fine. That is for you. I gathered my own." Loki indicated a flask.
"So what now?" Steve asked.
"We wait, and I shall tell you a story of the Beginning of the World and the End, although that may not come to pass soon." Loki gave Steve a queer look. "And I have brought mead for the tale," He revealed another flask, his eyes glittering.
Steve wondered whom Loki had visited that had lifted his spirits. He lifted the flask to his mouth. "I can't get drunk," He said. "So no funny business."
"I would never," Loki said easily, and Steve gave him a suspicious look before he drank from the flask.
Steve, who had never had mead before found it sweeter than he liked, but satisfying enough. For something distilled from honey, it was stronger than he'd expected. He felt it burn down his gullet and settle in his stomach. Loki raised his own flask and drank heartily from it.
So they drank mead and Loki told him about Yggdrasil and the serpent that ate its roots, and the rat than ran its branches and spread discord. He explained the Aesir and the Vanir and all the races of the many worlds.
When Loki's throat grew parched, Steve took up the silence, and shared tales of New York City and the Depression, and World War II and Hitler and Red Skull.
When they grew tired, they slept. When they woke, they would continue where they left off. Steve noticed his skin reflected the firelight and crystals. He looked gold. He held his hand up.
"What?" Loki asked.
"I'm becoming part of the mines!" Steve indicated his arm. Loki gazed at his golden skin blearily.
"You become one of us!" Loki declared. "Welcome, brother."
Steve grinned widely.
He had been drunk once before, right after Bucky had enlisted. Back then, it'd taken half a beer and he was stumbling into walls. It had been a long time, but Steve welcomed the soft, fuzzy feeling that came with the drink. Steve found he couldn't muster the distrust he felt for Loki. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.
"You're not such a bad guy."
"Am I not?"
"No, you're all right by me," Steve nodded. He laid a heavy hand on Loki's shoulder. "We could be friends, in another time. We are strangers in a strange land, you and I."
"It's just the mead speaking. All is kind in the face of alcohol."
"I shouldn't be drunk," Steve's face screwed in confusion, and he glared at the flask.
"You've never drunk the mead of the gods before," Loki pulled the flask from Steve's hands, drinking heavily from it before he passed it off again.
Steve considered the flask. "No," He agreed, "I suppose I haven't."
"I am not a kind man."
"I don't believe it!" Steve hiccupped, and he looked surprised. "You're just misunderstood. You're too big for your skin."
"Compared to my brothers, I am weak and found wanting."
Steve tapped on Loki's chest. "Not here."
Loki turned away, his face darkening. "The mead has made you heady. I have given you too much."
"No," Steve insisted. His tongue was thick in his mouth and the world was fuzzy in a comfortable sort of way, but if he could just get Loki to understand, it would be all right. "It's not that you don't belong. It's that they don't understand you."
Loki gave him a sour smile. "Is that all it is?"
"Well, sure. You're different. Adopted. They're your family, and they're not."
"What would you know about that?"
"Everything," And Steve's face was so serious, so plaintive. Loki stared at him for a moment before turning away.
"You know nothing of my people."
"Maybe," Steve agreed slowly, working through the alcohol to find the right words. "But, I know you. And I know Thor. And I even met your parents!"
"They're not my parents!"
"They've stayed longer with you than mine own ever did!" Steve shouted. Loki stared at him with an indiscernible expression. Steve ran a hand through his hair, schooling his expression. "Your mother loves you. I saw it in her eyes. Maybe she didn't give birth to you, but you're hers all the same."
"You walk delicate grounds, Captain. Choose your next words carefully."
"Dammit, Loki, She loves you. Don't you know, you move just like her?"
Loki gave him a wild look before stumbling to his feet with a slurred, "It has been one week."
Steve launched up beside Loki, barely catching himself as the world slid. "My kingdom for a shield!"
"All it took was a bag of gold and a little more."
"Not a bad deal," Steve clasped Loki on his back. "People say you're a bad guy. You're not so bad."
Loki smiled back.
They stumbled into the forge.
Brok and Eitiri were crouched over their tools, glancing up with aggravation as the pair approached. Steve could see his shield, the red white and blue glimmering in the firelight.
"It is done," Brok said, lowering his hammer slowly back to the anvil. "Now go away and expect no more favors from us!"
"I paid you. It's hardly a favor," Loki said, sounding much more clear-headed than Steve felt he should have been after a week of drinking.
Eitiri addressed Steve with a grumble as he held up the armor. "You will find this incomparable to anything your mortal eyes have yet seen. It will surpass that thing the human made."
"Your armor is as light and sure as any plated you have beheld. It will never tear or burn or freeze. It will remain as strong and durable ten thousands years from now as it is today. The colors can change at will, adjusting to your surroundings. It will protect you from any manner of missile or poison. It is impervious to nearly all manner of attack. With your shield, you shall be nigh invincible," Brok handed Steve his uniform.
"Thank you," Loki said, bowing slightly. Steve hesitated before he bowed, stumbling as he straightened.
The dwarves grumbled and shuffled back behind the anvil and fires.
Loki grabbed Steve and they phased back into the valley they'd arrived in. The sky was a distant blue, the sun a pale disc on the horizon. "Heimdall!" Loki called.
Steve, whose stomach had begun to do strange things, was not looking forward to another nauseating jump between worlds.
Chapter End
A/N Brok and Eitiri were the Dwarves that forged Mjolnir and Frigga's necklace. However, Dwarves were also known to curse the items they forged if they felt crossed or burdened, which is why Loki exacted the oath from them that he did.
The goddess of fertility, Freyrja, mourned for her lost husband with tears of gold. I figured Frigga might do the same, and those same tears would be invaluable.
Regarding the Water-wights, they're meant to be like Mermaids, who, in Norse Mythology acted much as Sirens and lured seafarers off course. The dead being in their realm is a bit of creative liberty on my part, but there you have it.
Ran, "The Ravanger," is the goddess of storms and wife of the sea goddess Aegir. She takes care of all those that are lost at sea. However, in a fit of creative liberty I decided that the water wights would have a separate place that the souls that they've stolen away from the ships would reside.
Niorun, the goddess of dreams, does indeed live in this realm. Little else is known about her.
Steve's, "My kingdom for a shield!" is a play on Shakespeare's Richard III and the line, "A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!"