It wasn't til sunset that Loki decided to venture out to the forge and check on the progress of his wares, and to see if he could spot one of the dwarves from the tavern the night before. While more memories of the night had returned, Loki was still having trouble recalling the exact details of the evening, along with the names of his drinking companions. He sighed. At least the Ivaldi brothers should be finishing soon.
It was not a long walk to the forges, and while Loki was still not feeling one hundred percent, the throbbing in his head had subsided considerably. Contemplating his talk with Sif, he was thankful (though he would never admit it) that she cared enough about him that she would take the time to consider his reputation among the court-and with his father. The spell he cast on her was set to wane by midnight, though, so she would not be forced to wear his visage for the entire duration of his trip. He thought of extending the time period just to irritate her, but returning home to her ire was a thought he did not particularly relish. Sighing, he made his way to the forge, the smoke emanating from the cavern thinner than it had been during his last visit, and for that he was grateful. Throwing a spell to clear his vision and filter the air, the cave was not nearly as miserable as it had once been. However, as he made it farther back into the cavern, it became clear that the Ivaldi brothers were not where he had found them the day before. Irritated, he walked farther into the forge, working his way into uncharted territory, trekking deeper into the cave until he saw another person. There was a single dwarf working at his own forge, and Loki had a sneaking suspicion that he would be entirely unhelpful without a bit of bribery.
True to form, it took four gold coins to get the dwarf to talk of his fellow blacksmiths. Once the dwarf had ascertained the gold's integrity, he looked obligingly at Loki, who tried to control the urge to use the magic that itched at his fingertips, the ancient power trying to convince him to simply spell the dwarf to talk. It was a tempting idea, but held more serious repercussions than a few lost coins did.
"Where are the brothers Ivaldi? and what of..." he searched his mind for their names "Brokk and his...companions?"
The dwarf glanced around warily before answering. "The Ivaldi brothers left a day ago. Dinnt say where they were off to. I dunno where Brokkr left off to? I saw him fer morning break and then haven't seen him since."
Loki grimaced at the news, not happy that the three dwarves whose company he sought were nowhere to be found. Likely they had taken off, his wares unfinished, his money gone.
Oh, they would see the folly of their ways once he found them; of that he was sure.
Sif was already tired of being Loki, and it had not even been an hour. The sheer amount servants that had tried to tend her as she simply walked through a
corridor had been overwhelming, and she had retreated to Loki's quarters, thankful that Loki had made sure no servant was ever able to disturb him in his private rooms.
It was exhausting being a Prince of Asgard, and she had not even had to sit through one of Odin's meetings with Aesir who had troubles to bring to the Allfather. She couldn't imagine how Loki was able to feign interest in such boring, trivial matters.
She paced erratically around his chambers, nervous and waiting for the inevitable call to the meeting hall, where Odin would receive his guests. It was all a big show of pomp and circumstance, Sif thought, but she knew it was a minimal price to pay for peace between the two realms.
It is about an hour later, after Sif is sure that she has worn a trail in the marble floors from pacing, that a royal servant comes to fetch her. She is sure to don one of Loki's formal armor sets, though more as a show of status than a presumption for battle. She manages to avoid any of the royal family members right up until she takes her place next to Thor, trying to not smile too much, and saving only a smirk in the direction of the other prince.
It was a few moments before the emissaries arrived, lead by a soldier assigned to Heimdall's Keep. However, it was quite humorous to see such fanfare given to two small dwarves that looked to be simple blacksmiths. Surely this was a waste of the Allfather's time; of Loki's time, as well. There was no reason they required a full royal audience, though that is what they had been granted.
The two dwarves bowed, though, obviously trying not to provoke hostility with the Allfather, and announced their names and titles ceremoniously, as if they were indeed someone important from the realm of elves and dwarves. Bowing low again, they brought forth a few boxes, innately decorated, and from what Sif could tell from where she stood is that this was a gift from the realm of the dwarves. The two dwarves pulled them out as though they were made of gold, explaining as each box was opened.
"These are the items that Prince Loki has tasked us to make, Allfather, with your permission..." he trailed off, motioning to the boxes as he pulled the nearest one close to him. Odin cast a shadowed glance towards Sif before motioning for the dwarf to continue with his demonstration.
Pulling out a large golden spear, the dwarf presented the first treasure to Odin directly. "The spear Gungnir, your Highness...its aim never fails." There was a low murmur of appreciation in the court for the impressive object. Quickly pulling the next box from the other dwarf's hands, he opened it and held out a small wooden ship, which looked for all it's fine craftsmanship like a child's toy. Sif grinned, in a way she was sure Loki would.
"Skíðblaðnir, my lord, which is always wafted by favorable winds, and which can sail on air as well as water. Not only can it hold all the gods and their mounts, it can be folded up and put in one's purse."
It was much more impressive once explained, and Sif found herself intrigued as to why Loki would have these treasures made, and what else the dwarves would present. Pulling the last box from the second dwarf's waiting hands, the dwarf slowly opened the last box, and Sif had to crane her neck to see what it was the dwarf had pulled out of the box.
It took all the fortitude Sif had not to gasp aloud at the last treasure she saw.
"And for the Lady Sif, hair fabricated from gold, with the magical ability to grow on her own head."
It was too sweet a gesture, too kind, too unexpected, and Sif found herself struggling to remain unfazed by the declaration. It was such a grand gesture; one that she had no idea how to reciprocate. She had long ago grown accustomed to her new raven locks. The idea that Loki still harbored enough guilt about his actions when they were but children showed just how much each interaction they had meant to him.
It was overwhelming.
The wig was beautiful, just as golden and shining as her old locks had been, and Sif felt a pang of regret that Loki was not actually here to present her with such a fine gift; he would not get to see her surprised reaction, the shock on her face, or the pang of real emotion that passed through her eyes.
She was touched.
Odin luckily did not question the gifts or Loki's intentions, accepting them gracefully from the Ivaldi brothers, and Sif was relieved for the ease of the transaction. While she may be convincing in looks, she doubted her ability to act the part of Loki enough for the Allfather to not notice the slight.
She relaxed, sinking into her stance at the side of Thor, watching as the dwarves meticulously replaced the gifts in their respective boxes, handing them over carefully to one of Odin's guard.
Odin thanked the brothers again, praising their craftsmanship, and bidding them welcome to the realm eternal should they ever look to expand their forge.
The dwarves, while lacking the elegant prose of the Aesir, were polite enough, thanking the Allfather for his time and patience, the guards moving to escort them back to the Bifrost.
And then the doors to the throne room were thrown open by more guards, two more dwarves escorted into the throne room, and Sif looked on in confusion as the Ivaldi brothers left the palace, only to be replaced by the new arrivals.
Odin did not look pleased at the obviously unscheduled visitors, and cast his gaze upon Sif, leveling her with a steady glance that would reproof her of any mischief Loki had been the instigator of.
These dwarves looked less gentile than the two brothers, looking out challengingly into the crowd, eyes scanning through the faces until they came to rest on Sif's. The leading dwarf puffed himself up, glaring at Loki's image in cocky arrogance, the self-assurance that emanated from the dwarf sickening to Sif. There was a definitely line between confident and arrogant, and this dwarf had clearly crossed over into the latter.
Bending down in a bow that seemed almost mocking in nature, the two dwarves addressed the Allfather, introducing themselves. "My lord, I be the blacksmith Brokk, and this ere's my brother Eitri," he began, infusing his voice with a great deal of grandeur.
Sif could tell by the way Odin shifted in his throne that he was uncomfortable with his new guest's demeanor, but he let them continue, his gaze weighing heavily on the dwarves.
"We have come to present you with three treasures, the likes of which have not yet been seen by anyone. Their craftsmanship is unmatched, and they are far superior to anything that has previously been presented to you," Eitri's voice challenged, and Sif could tell that there was a conflict at the heart of this. And by the way the dwarf-Brokk-kept glancing over at her, Sif had to assume that Loki had been the cause of all of this.
She doubted this was in his plans, but then again she had no idea what his intentions were on the dwarven planet. For all she knew, this was exactly what Loki had intended.
The dwarves brought out their crafts, presenting them with a flourish that grated on Sif's nerves. The first was Gullin-börsti, an enormously fast golden boar. Next was Draupnir, a golden arm ring that dropped eight similar rings every ninth night.
The last treasure, though, was clearly the most impressive, reflected in the murmur of the crowd. The hammer Mjölnir, with the ability to control thunder, would be able to strike as firmly as desired, whatever the aim, and the hammer would never fail. If thrown at something, it would never miss, and never fly so far from his hand that it would not find its way back.
They were impressive gifts, and Sif could see how Loki would find these things worthy enough to warrant a trip to Svartálfaheimr.
The dwarf Eitri stepped forward. "Odin, we have presented you with our finest forged treasure, and now ask that you judge them against the worth of the Ivaldi brothers' gifts."
Sif's first reaction is shock, that the dwarves are so competitive they would have the Allfather settle a petty squabble over whose craftsmanship was the best. Odin obviously shared Sif's sentiments, as he looked at the dwarves with disdain. "My duties as Allfather do not include an obligation to feed your rivalry. I see no purpose in judging your craftsmanship against that of your brethren." The Allfather's voice was commanding, demanding obedience. The dwarves balked, obviously intimidated, and scrambled to explain themselves.
"Your highness, surely Prince Loki has told you of our wager," and with that, the dwarf pinned his gaze on Sif, and she tried to look on in disdain, exuding a confidence that she did not have. She had no idea what Loki had wagered these dwarves, and trying to act like she did was not something she was sure she had the skill to do.
She was not the wordsmith Loki was; she could not weave her way out of a situation with silver gilded tongue. Only silver blade.
Gaining steam, the dwarf stepped forward, only to be blocked by two of Odin's guards. "Your highness, Loki has praised the workmanship of the brothers Ivaldi, and we are here to defend our claim as the best craftsmen in all of the realms. We trust you to be a fair judge of our treasure. The gifts are all yours to keep for the betterment of the realm, but we wish for there to be a victor determined." Stepping back again, Odin shifted in his throne, clearly glaring at Loki for putting him in such an awkward predicament. It was expected that Odin would know nothing of this wager; Sif did not even know herself. But she figured if the kingdom was allowed to keep all of the items, then surely no harm would come from declaring a victor.
She wondered, distractedly, what Loki would lose if Brokk and Eitri were indeed declared victors.
Odin paused for several moments, no doubted weighing the potential consequences of either judging the items or forcing the dwarves to simply leave the realm. In the end, he motioned for the dwarves to continue, obviously going ahead with it simply to play into Loki's plans, hoping his son had a reason for this wager. That it was worth the price he might pay, whatever Odin's decision might be.
Loki paced outside of the forge, trying to decide on a course of action. He had no idea where the Ivaldi brothers could have gone to, nor the other dwarves that he had drank with the night before. While he could return home to Asgard for the evening, maybe even attend that damn ceremony Sif kept going on and on about, he figured it would be a waste to return home without his items. He had waited this long for them to be crafted, surely the brothers would return soon, and he would be able to return to Asgard laden with treasures for the kingdom, befit of Odin's gratitude, and maybe even pride. The thought alone was enough to make Loki stay, traveling back to the room he had stayed in the night before. He transported himself to the tavern he had gone to the night before, ordering a hot meal and thanking Yggdrasil that he would be home shortly, where there would be real food; not simply meat and bread. The diet was too heavy for him, and while Thor and Volstagg would have been quite at home with the dwarves, Loki preferred lighter fare, such as fresh fruits and the rare vegetable he had convinced the kitchen staff to grow.
It would be over soon. Soon, he would be able to show Sif what he had stolen from her so long ago, his repairment to an age old crime.
Brokk and Eitri had showed their wares, and while the first two had been impressive, nothing compared to the awe that the hammer Mjolnir displayed. Sif could see Thor beside her twitching with excitement, clearly hoping to get a chance to try out his father's newest prize. Odin was examining the six different treasures, Frigga at his side voicing her opinion to him when he would comment on the structure, or complexity.
It promised to be a long ordeal; one that Sif was not very patient for. She could already see the Warriors Three start to murmur, wondering what the wager could have been, and why Loki would seek to return to Sif her golden hair after so many centuries.
Sif wondered the same, but would not seek to reproof him for such a thoughtful gift, albeit misguided. Sif loved her hair, black as the night, as it set her apart from the other maidens of Asgard. No longer did she have to hear the ladies of the court wax poetic on the virtue of her golden locks. No, now she commanded praise with blade and fist.
It was tedious work, judging the items. Sif had been standing next to Thor for over an hour, and the boredom was insufferable. If she was herself, she would have been able to speak quietly with the Warriors Three, joking and cajoling each other as the decision was made. However, as Loki, she had to be a pinnacle of patience, intent on the process and interested in the outcome.
It seems like hours but in reality was probably had only been one clock mark by the time Odin has finished conversing with Frigga in hushed tones, returning to his throne. Pinning Sif with a steely gaze, Odin turned to look once again at the patient dwarves Brokk and Eitri, who, while answering all of Odin's questions and eagerly allowing him to handle the items, were respectfully silent now, waiting for the Allfather's decision.
It was something the whole court now waited on baited breath for, having taken a begrudging interest in the dwarf's claims, as well as his challenge.
Sif wondered how many of those in the crowds wished for Loki to lose the bet, if only to see him lose a fraction of his ever-present self-confidence and mischief that she knew grated on the nerves of more than a few people.
Silencing the crowds with a flick of his hand, Odin beckoned the dwarves forward again, meeting their expectant gaze. "Dwarves Brokk and Eitri, you have been well met, and your items have been forged with expert craftsmanship. That being said, the brothers Ivaldi have also presented us with quite formidable wares, and to judge any of them against each other is a crime to the art of their craftsmanship." A glance was sent to Loki. "That being said, a decision must be made, to uphold a wager made from my kin."
Odin shifted in his throne, obviously weighing the weight of his words, and the consequences his decision would bring. He was fair and just, but he was also protective of his family, and he hoped that his decision would not be damning.
But there was nothing to do to protect Loki, not when he had intertwined himself so deeply in the dwarves' affairs.
With a heavy voice, Odin set down his judgment. "I declare the winners of this contest to be the dwarves Brokk and Eitri. Let the price of the wager be paid, so that all may return to their respective realms." The last was more of a command than a request, Odin clearly tiring of dealing with the demands of the dwarves.
Brokk and Eitri grinned celebratorily, their smiles and cheers making it clear who had won in this wager. Sif sighed, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Stars and branches, please just let it be gold.
The dwarves grinned more greedily, now, their gaze on Sif as they addressed not only Odin, but also the court. "We ask only what has been wagered against us; Loki Silvertongue's head."
The collective gasp from the crowd was lost on Sif, who was trying to remember how to breathe. Thor looked at her, concern and horror mixed into the lines of his face, and she could barely look up to see the expression on Frigga, the one that she knew would break her heart the most. The Queen looked lost, stricken and clutching the side of the throne for support, her eyes desperate as she looked to Odin pleadingly for him to do something.
The King was silent, clearly taken aback from the wager's cost, and searching for an answer, a way out, an escape.
But, clearly, there was none. The Allfather had already delivered his judgment, and the price had obviously already been agreed on.
Sif could damn Loki thrice over for agreeing to such a risky wager, especially when Odin did not know what the consequences were. When she did not know what the consequences were.
While Sif knew that Loki had likely not known the dwarves were the foreign dignitaries she had been railing him about, she could feel her anger burning bright at knowing what a fate he had consigned her to. She was to die a loser's death, then, in a body that was not even her own.
Oh, there was no way in Helheim she would make it into Valhalla now.
Sif fisted her hands, letting the pain of her nails digging into her palm wake her up from her spiral into terror. She was War. This would not be the way she would die. She just had to think like Loki.
And therein lied the key. Loki had made this wager; surely he had had a backup plan, something arranged for if he did actually lose his wager. Loki never left loose ends; she simply had to try and think like him to find an answer.
But nothing was coming; not when Thor was reaching for her, the warriors Three shocked and crowding towards her in a display of fortitude. Odin beckoned her forward, and Sif moved slowly, in horror, as the aged king looked upon her with deep sorrow and burdening guilt.
Think Sif, think. There was no way things would end well if she simply tried to kill the dwarves, and while she knew Thor and her friends might vouch for her, Asgard would surely hear the tale of the second prince who could not keep his end of a bargain, and ended up slaughtering his debtees.
There was only thing left that Loki always had in his arsenal, and Sif prayed that she too would inherit his gift, if only for a night. His silvertongue. She needed to be Loki Liesmith, and talk her way out of a very gruesome and shameful death. It was the only way.