Kelidri was a guard. Currently, he was the on-duty guard at the south-western entrance to the seventh district of the People of the Hills. Kelder, his brother, Dokan and Makti were in the barracks about ten yards away, probably sleeping. If he saw anything strange, he was to blow his whistle – it was high enough that it would wake them from a sound slumber, and not be heard by the barrow-worms at all. Well, at least not all but the littlest ones, and those would be distracted – sometimes driven away – by it. That's what the Elders had told him, and it had not entered his head to doubt their word on it.

He stood deep in the shadows, careful to avoid even the chance that he might be startled and fall into the patch of sunlight that was creeping into the mouth of the watch-post. There had been talk in the city of moving the watch deeper under-earth for the watchmen's safety, but it had been ruled out for the simple reason that a watchman would be no good with nothing to watch. If they were deeper beneath the ground, what would they be looking for? By the time they knew something was coming, it would be far too late.

As it was, Kelidri was bored. He was the youngest in their troop, and the newest recruit to the watch, but even he had been doing this for long enough that much of the thrill was gone.

With the suddenness of such things, it was back. And Kelidri realized how necessary his post was, even on days during which nothing was happening. A tall youth – from off-realm by the looks of him – had simply appeared a yard or two from where he stood. Now, the truth was that Kelidri had not been watching the door, and the stranger moved so quietly that there had been no noise of him to alert Kelidri of his arrival. For his part, Kelidri still had to him the element of surprise. Tucked as he was beneath the shadows, and the visitor being an over-worlder, he had taken no notice of the guard.

As was protocol, Kelidri blew his whistle, then lowered his spear and came forward. "In the authority of the Dvallir guard of the Sons of Ivaldi I demand that you stop and make yourself known."

It was his first time handling a situation, and Kelidri was quite proud of himself.

Met with the spear, the stranger drew back, raising his hands, "I mean you and yours no harm."

"Who are you?"

Kelidri was just getting a look at the stranger. He was tall, as all the over-worlders were, and had a sharp, girlish face. Another peculiarity of the over-world. All the youths looked like maids, and many of the men strove to look like youths. Very strange.

"One who would do business with your chief."

He appeared to be unarmed. Kelder and the others came up around him.

"You are unarmed," Dokan said, "Mage or no?"

"Rudimentarily trained," the stranger answered. He seemed untroubled by the knowledge that he was surrounded by Dvallish spears.

"Too young for little more than that," Makti laughed.

The stranger took no notice, much less offense.

Makti continued, "What business have you with our chief?"

"I had a proposition to make him."

"Of what kind?"

"He owes me a debt. I had intended to allow him the opportunity to make good on it."

"Who are you?"

"No one of consequence,"

"Then how comes our chief to owe debt to you?" Kelidri asked.

The stranger looked at him, his mouth tipping a little to one side, "Perceptive," then turned back to the group, "My father is of more consequence than I. It is on his behalf I come."

"Who is your father, then?"

"He would have me not say."

"Why?"

"My errand is to be one of secrecy."

"If you will not say," Kelder decided, "and since your errand is one pertinent to the honor of our tribe, you will be allowed entry. But bound and with an armed guard. If you object, no entry will you be allowed and you may go on your way back to your own realm. Do you object?"

"I do not."

Kelder and Dokan drew close to him. They bound his hands behind him without much difficulty, then had him kneel down in order to bind a cloth over his eyes.

Not that he'd be able to see in the tunnels. Over-worlder's had such weak eyes.

"If I so much as catch a whiff of mage-craft," Dokan gave him a prod with the butt-end of his spear, "you'll be feeling the other side."

The stranger laughed. They pushed him up to his feet.

Kelder and Kelidri were the assigned watch for the quarter they were still in, so it was decided that Dokan and Makti would escort the prisoner to the city.

As the three faded into the tunnels, Kelidri went back to his post.

~.~

They lead Loki down ever dark and winding tunnels. He had given up long ago attempting to even try and get his bearings. Besides, that wasn't usually how it worked for him anyway. Thor would always know how he had gotten into and out of a place. The map was burned somewhere into his mind. For Loki it had never been so. His talent had developed slowly, but often now he could re-trace his steps. Even running head-long for miles into the forest, he could generally find his way back with next to no trouble.

He gave up trying to build the map and merely allowed his small guides to lead him. He fancied to himself that he was being led by children and laughed, even as they ran him part-way against the door-post of the tunnel. They were moving slowly enough that he stumbled, caught himself, but did not fall. The wall was of rough-hewn stone. That much his cheekbone told him.

Twisting and turning they went over the gurgling sound of water. The ground beneath him hadn't changed, so Loki guessed that the bridge itself was of earth and stone. Interesting, what one could do with the materials available.

After what could have been an eternity – though Loki was fairly sure his time-sense had been troubled, they stopped where he could just see faint glimmers of a yellow-gold light through the cloth on his eyes. He heard a somewhat distant, but nevertheless distinct sound of people. It was a city-sound.

His guards were muttering amongst themselves a little distance away. They had not spoken to him much on the trip, and only spoke to one another in low tones he had to strain to catch. And that rarely. The dwarves were a silent people. Or at least these were.

Now they were speaking to each other. Loki only barely caught the phrases, "…he's a mage,"

"…rudimentarily trained,"

"…so he said…"

After a moment or two more of deliberation, they called him forward and they continued. They went sharply downhill for a bit, then turned and the sounds of the city immediately were muffled and the light was made more dim.

Twisting, turning, this time many steps.

Loki began to hate staircases.

His shins would never forgive him.

Then, they stopped.

There was the sound of a heavy door swinging open, and he was shoved forward.

"…refuses to give his name."

The voice ended as he came through and his hands were unbound.

They had him get down and removed the fabric from his eyes.

He blinked at the light, dim as it was.

The door shut behind him.

"You will become accustomed to it,"

It was Ivaldi, sitting at a low work-table, cluttered with small tools and scraps of metal. His hands were busy, and he did not look up.

They were alone.

"Welcome again to my realm, Prince. You come with business from the AllFather? Secret business?"

"Secret, yes. From my father, no."

"Oh?"

"You owe me a debt."

"Do I?"

"You are now the chief supplier to the Aesir and our main ally in this realm, yes?"

"Through your agency?"

"Through my agency."

The old dwarf turned to him, "Why?"

"I happen to have a fondness for your people. But now I am in need of your aid."

"In what manner?" He laid aside his tools.

"I need you to make for me a head of hair, forged of the finest gold. Long and light and able to take root and grow, just as any real hair might do, that none may know the magic of it once it is worn, only the beauty."

"Such a thing requires great skill, Prince,"

"Greater skill than your smiths possess?"

"It has been many years since one of mine has attempted such a thing,"

Loki was growing impatient with the slow, deliberate manner of the dwarf, but kept his voice level, "Will you be able to craft this for me or no?"

Ivaldi's gnarled hand opened and closed slowly on the table-top, "I would try my hand at magic again," he murmured it as though speaking to himself. He looked up at Loki and said, more loudly, "It will be done."