She wasn't sure what prompted it, but Thrúd found herself unable to move from the bridge.

With the enchanted whetstone in her possession, she assumed she'd head straight over to Sindri's house without further delay. While that was still the plan, she couldn't help but reflect, holding said whetstone all the while.

Sindri had mentioned that he only needed two things to improve upon Mjolnir: the coal from a dragr hole and the white enchanted whetstone. Though both errands had their share of hitches and obstacles, Thrúd had managed to obtain both, ensuring the safety of her father's signature weapon.

At least, that was the case on paper. She still had to bring the ingredient over to his house, but she was unable to stop herself from being swept up in a wave of pride.

Almost selfishly, Thrúd recounted the events in her head that led her to where she was; standing up to Grámtrist, assisting the centaurs and other wildlife of Vanaheim, reconnecting with her mother emotionally, sending Sinmara a memento of her lover, and all while doing her damndest to make sure that the hammer survives to secure her dad's legacy.

She knew that pride was an arrogant way to appreciate her deeds, but when she came from a family who mostly took pride in making other people's lives as miserable as possible to simply improve their own, it felt like something better to be proud of.

Who would have thought the best way to separate myself from the All-Father would be to just be nice to people?

Suck it, Odin.

Squeezing the whetstone one last time, as if to prove once and for all that it was truly real, Thrúd relaxed her arms and let out a long breath. That was when she realized her surroundings were filled with more than just the natural sounds of Midgard. Both goddess and raven turned their heads to the direction of the sound of clanking tools and manly grunts.

Týr's temple was abuzz with activity, even more so than when she last left. The statue of Týr was almost entirely gone, only his shins down to his feet that stood on the roof of his temple remained. Scaffolding surrounded it with workers walking in every direction along the planks, most of them carrying either tools, wood, or scrapped pieces of the statue. A pile was formed at the end of the bridge for all the busted up pieces of the original statue. The pile grew as the workers threw their share of the statue's remnants on top of it.

Thrúd also couldn't help but notice that the number of Skjoldr's helpers had grown exponentially. Having only begun this project with a handful of people who wished to stay behind to lend a hand and honor the god of war's legacy, Thrúd now estimated that at least eighty people were volunteering their efforts.

Hypnotized by the teamwork, Thrúd looked up and down, doing her best to find her friend in the fray. She found him at the bottom, looking over a set of blueprints with a dwarf and two other humans. From the other side of the bridge, she could see his lips moving and his audience nodding in agreement.

A chuckle escaped her lips, and she shook her head, impressed by the progress the mortal boy had made and the leadership status he had made for himself. "Not bad, Skjoldr," she said with her hands on her hips.

She wasn't sure when she started moving again, but before she knew it, she was on the other side of the bridge, wanting to view the progress up close. Thrúd had almost forgotten the whetstone in her hand with every step closer.

Once she was close enough, Skjoldr lifted his head and spotted her, a goofy smile spreading over his face. "Thrúd!" He shouted, surprising his team. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized to them with outstretched arms, making sure he hadn't startled them too badly. "Erm, yeah, just, uh, go ahead and try to get the nails down here as soon as you can, yeah?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Awesome, thank you!"

He abandoned his spot and ran over to Thrúd, arms wide in disbelief. "Look who's back! Welcome to the first taste of post-Fimbulwinter in Midgard."

Thrúd raised her arms in a half shrug. "Look who's back," she echoed before gesturing to the worksite behind him. "And look at this. I don't remember all of these people here last time."

"Yeah, no shit," Skjoldr said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Turns out my idea to update Týr's temple was a popular one. Word spread and, well," he held out his arms, gesturing to the army of volunteers, a sheepish smile on his face. "Everyone's been fantastic to work with. Týr should be completely reassembled by the end of the month if things go according to plan."

Thrúd motioned to the pile of dull metal at her side. "That's good. I doubt he'd be able to keep the peace if he isn't in one piece himself."

"No shit," Skjoldr repeated. Looking down, his eyes caught sight of Thrúd's hand. "And what about you, miss adventurer? Looks like you found another treasure," he said, pointing to the whetstone that Thrúd had forgotten she was holding. "What are you gonna do with it? Got any plans for upgrading your stuff?"

In response, Thrúd gave a small nod. "Yeah. Guess you could say that."

"Well," Skjoldr continued as he walked back to the table littered with blueprints, "if you need a hand with anything like that, one of my new friends here should be able to touch up whatever you want."

Before Thrúd could inquire who his new friend was, a familiar, cheerful voice piped up from the side.

"Well, hey there, lil lady!"

Without needing to turn and see who the voice belonged to, Thrúd did so anyway and found Lúnda hobbling over with two armfuls of tools and equipment stashed underneath her armpits.

Thrúd waved a greeting back. "Hey there, Lúnda."

"I see ya'll survived Vanaheim! That's good to see." She dropped off her haul on the table. "Didja get what you needed?"

Thrúd nodded, gripping the whetstone. "Among other things." She waved her hand in a vague arc. "How'd you get roped into all of this then?"

Lúnda shook her head like she was dismissing a playful jab. "I didn't get roped into nothin', darlin'! Soon as I caught wind of what Skjoldr here had planned, I was pleased as punch to lend a helpin' hand er two! And heck, I clearly wasn't the only one to feel that way!" She said with her arms spread, referring to the abundance of helpers at the temple.

"Ain't surprising, neither," she continued. "After Ragnarok, people are just chompin at the bits to help improve the realms anyway they can. Just like you, lil Thrudie patootie!" Thrúd flinched at the nickname, for one part at how close it was to her father's own nickname for her, and another part at the improvised addition to it. Thrúd found herself rubbing the backside of her skirt self-consciously.

"Word of yer adventures traveled 'round Vanaheim shortly after you left," the dwarf continued.

Thrúd blinked in surprise. "Really?"

Lúnda shrugged. "Now, it's true that the majority of Vanaheim's population ain't able to speak none, but as long as people live anywhere, gossip will always spread quicker than a wildfire." She pointed at the young goddess. "What you did was mighty kind, helpin' them animals."

During her speech, Skjoldr rested his hands on his hips and nodded along, clearly impressed by Thrúd's exploits. "Doesn't surprise me, Lúnda," Skjoldr added. "Give someone deserving a weapon as strong as Mjolnir without the All-Father breathing down their neck, they can do some amazing shit with it."

For the first time in a very long time, Thrúd began to feel uncomfortable beneath the weight of all their praise. Normally, she found herself longing to bask in people's appreciation and adoration as if it were sunlight itself. But now that she was facing it in full force, she really wanted to find some shade.

Having come to the conclusion that her crusade was for the benefit of the realms instead of garnering fame and immortality, their praise suddenly felt unwelcome. She tried to find the words to express this but found herself floundering to do so as she stammered over her syllables.

Luckily, Lúnda seemed to notice.

"Aw, look at her. All shy. Sorry, lil lady. Didn't mean to embarrass ya none."

Thankful that Lúnda caught on, Thrúd sighed in relief, waving away the dwarf's concern.

"I'm not embarrassed," she half-lied. "I was just thinking that I should let you guys get back to it. I've, uh, held you back long enough."

"Oh! Not at all, Thrúd," Skjoldr insisted. "I'm the one who approached you, after all. I'm sure you've got other things to worry about; like bringing that whetstone over to Sindri."

Squinting her eyebrows in curiosity, Lúnda saw the whetstone in question and gasped.

"Well, I'll be!" She breathed out with a hand over her chest. "Where did you find an enchanted whetstone? Thought they all up and vanished."

Thrúd held out the whetstone for her to get a better look. Taking advantage of the gesture, Lúnda closed the gap between them and peered at it from as many angles as she could manage.

"That asshole who damaged Mjolnir that first time. I told Sindri about him and he theorized that the traveler found them and collected them in order to destroy it. Guess he was right."

Satisfied, Lúnda stepped back, shaking her head in both disbelief and respect.

"Ah, that Sindri. Usin' that noodle of his even when it ain't on straight after Ragnarok." She looked back at Thrúd. "Am I correct in assumin' that Sindri's got plans for this here magical doodad?"

Thrúd nodded. "Yup."

"Well, tell him to be careful with it, will ya? I know he ain't no delicate flower what needs protectin', especially since he's the one who brought the final smackdown on ol' Odin himself. But that there could be dangerous if he ain't careful."

Thrúd nodded again. "Don't worry, he's fully aware of what-" she stopped midsentence. She blinked several times as Lúnda's words finally caught up with her. "What did you say?"

"Just pass on the message to be careful with-"

"No, no, no," Thrúd shook her head. "The other thing. The thing about Sindri and Odin?"

Lúnda looked puzzled. "That he destroyed the orb that Atreus done trapped Odin's soul inside of?"

Thrúd blinked. "Sindri is the one who killed Odin?!"

Skjoldr and Lúnda both stepped back in surprise of her outburst. A few workers milling in the general area turned their heads for a moment to see what the commotion was about before quickly losing interest and resuming their duties.

"He didn't mention that?" Lúnda asked.

"NO!" Thrúd shouted again as her mind raced in futile efforts to even begin to attempt what had transpired during Ragnarok after Odin tossed her halfway across the realm.

After several moments of pacing to shake off her surprise, Skjoldr cleared his throat, diverting her attention back to the present.

"Not to sound ungrateful for how things turned out, but," he lightly shrugged, "does it really matter who did it so long as Odin's dead?"

"He's got a point," Lúnda agreed. "'Sides, if it makes you feel any better, he didn't tell me neither. I heard it from Kratos. Sindri was pretty tight-lipped after, er, you know."

The more a fuss Thrúd made at this new bit of information for her, the sillier she felt. They were right. It made no difference who finished the job so long as it was done. She was just struggling with the fact that of all people, it was Sindri who pulled it off. Yes, Kratos, Loki and Freya battled him into submission, but now knowing that Sindri came in to finish the job put the dwarf into a whole new light.

Sindri: the dwarf who co-created Mjolnir.

Sindri: the dwarf who got the best of her several times upon their meeting.

And now, he was Sindri: the dwarf who extinguished the life of the All-Father.

The more she thought of it, the more she began to wonder how much she should be careful around him.

And as she considered these new nuggets of knowledge, she had one last question about him.

"What was he doing after Ragnarok?"

She meant to ask that in her own head. But apparently, it was verbalized because Lúnda offered her a helpless shrug in response.

"I ain't any help on that one, lil lady," she admitted. "While it ain't my business, I can't exactly say that I was never curious 'bout it myself."

Stunned by the unexpected answer, Thrúd shook herself out of her reverie and looked away from her friends. Her eyes landed on the pile of rocks that would lead her back to Sindri's house at the other end of the bridge they stood on.

"I've kept you two long enough," she said suddenly. "I need him to put this thing to good use."

The human and dwarf nodded in understanding.

"Good luck, Thrúd." Skjoldr waved. "Hope to see you again, soon." He wished he could've given her a more lengthy goodbye, but he sensed that she was itching to get a move on and honored that wish with a brief statement.

Lúnda on the other hand wasn't quite done.

"Do me a favor when you see him, will you?" Lúnda didn't give Thrúd the chance to say that she'd do this favor before continuing. "Tell him I miss him? I know he's got a whirlwind of garbage goin' on in that clever head of his, what with Brok and all. But . . ." she trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her desire to see her friend again.

Thrúd looked back at the dwarf. "I'll tell him," she promised. "But I don't know if he'll listen."

"That's all you can do, lil lady. Thank you."

She swiped a pair of tongs from Skjoldr's table and walked over to the worksite to contribute however she could. Skjoldr offered one last farewell nod before rolling up the blueprints and following Lúnda.

Letting out a slow breath, Thrúd took one last look at the project before turning around and making her way across the bridge. She summoned the gate and stepped inside. Before long, Thrúd and Hugin found themselves on the front lawn of Sindri's house once again.

The kiln she had dragged across his property remained lit in his yard, its flames casting dancing shadows on the ground. As she approached, Sindri exited his house holding a folded bench under one arm. He extended the legs and set it on the ground adjacent to the kiln before looking up to find Thrúd had returned.

"Ah. You're back."

"Don't sound so excited to see me or anything."

"Oh, I am excited," he assured, though his tone suggested the opposite. "With this visit, this should be the last time you have to bother me."

Thrúd rolled her eyes. "Whatever, dude. You know you like enjoy tinkering with Mjolnir again." She called out to call his bluff, but he neither confirmed nor denied before entering his house once again. He reemerged with another set of tools and laid them out on the bench.

He walked up to Thrúd. "Did you get the whetstone from that friend of yours?"

She tossed him the item in question. He caught it and inspected it for a few moments to verify its authenticity. Satisfied, he tossed it a short height in the air and caught it as if it were a coin before walking over to the kiln.

With an un-gloved hand, he tapped a display needle on its face. Over on the side of the device was a lever that he pulled, opening an unseen valve inside and willing the flames brighter and hotter. "It will be ready in a few minutes. Might as well get comfortable. But not terribly so," he warned. "I may need your help with part of the process."

Hugin chirped in surprise, looking at Thrúd from his perch atop the house.

"You sure about that?" Thrúd asked. "I'm no blacksmith."

"You can use your hands and do as you're told though, yeah?"

". . . I guess."

"Congratulations. You're overqualified for what I need. Just sit tight, this will be hot enough soon."

Thrud quirked an eyebrow. "I thought the whole point of you firing this thing up last time I was here was so that it'd be ready once I got back?" She wondered.

"This thing hasn't been used in ages. Not even the coal from the dragr hole that you brought with you can heat it up to what it needs to be in that short amount of time. It will get there, don't you worry. And besides, it's not like you're going to be finished with your chores after this. So, there's no use rushing things."

Thrúd was about to sit down but stopped at his last sentence.

"What do you mean?"

He monitored the fire as he spoke, not even looking in her general direction. "I mean that you've still got some homework to do after this if you want Mjolnir to fully accept these upgrades."

Outrage filled Thrúd's system. "Are you shitting me?!" Sparks flew out of her swinging fists. "You said this is the last thing that needs to be done!"

"No," he said calmly. "I said that this should be the last time that you need to bother me. Big difference." He turned around to look at her. "Oh, don't look at me like that. It's nothing hard."

"You lied to me! How do I know that this 'one last thing' really is the last thing?"

"You would know for sure once you stop throwing a hissy fit and let me tell you for starters," he said with no small hint of agitation in his voice. "Besides, it's not as if you magically wouldn't have to do this if I never brought it up."

"Maybe not, but it still would've been nice to know."

"And do what? You can't do these steps out of order. Instead of complaining about it, just trust that I am doing right by you, would you? I haven't told you anything that you didn't need to know and haven't had you retrieve anything I didn't need."

Thrúd crossed her arms. "Fine. Whatever. What else will I need to do?"

Before the dwarf could answer, the fire in the kiln grew brighter. The needle on the display Sindri had just checked adjusted itself accordingly.

"I'll tell you in a second. For right now," he held out his hand. "The hammer, please."

Thrúd handed him Mjolnir and watched as he made his way over to one of the worktables he had set up. He set Mjolnir on top of it and the whetstone next to it before grabbing a small knife from the bench. He scraped the blade of the knife along the whetstone in the similar fashion that Grámtrist did to enchant his sword. The blade glowed white in response.

"If that thing is as powerful as your story made it seem, shouldn't you, I don't know, wear gloves or something?" Thrúd wondered aloud.

"You mean like how you handled it with gloves on the way over here?"

Thrúd examined her gloveless hands. "Good point."

With a roll of his eyes, Sindri resumed his work. He held up the hammer and examined its intricate markings and lines, noting the lack of them on both faces of the hammer.

Setting the hammer down with one of the faces facing upward, Sindri produced a mallet and held the tip of the now-enchanted knife over it. As lightly and delicately as he could, Sindri tapped the handle of the knife and engraved more markings on it like a chisel. As he tapped away, the knife would lose its magical oomph every so often, prompting him to scrape it along the whetstone again before resuming his work.

He did so to both sides. It was a time-consuming process, but Thrúd didn't question his methods.

With one last tap, Sindri set down both the mallet and knife to hold up Mjolnir, ensuring he marked it correctly. He blew into the new lines, blowing out the shavings and crumbs his chiseling produced. The markings glowed with a barely noticeable white light, almost as if the new magic that was introduced to it was trying to escape.

Sindri set down the hammer and put on a set of leather gloves that reached all the way to his elbows. He lifted the hammer by its handle and brought it over to the kiln. Sindri opened the main door and squinted as the heat was released. Thrúd held her arms up to shield herself from the heat as well.

With one gloved hand, he reached inside and pulled out a shelf. He set Mjolnir down on its side so that both faces were exposed to the heat before sliding it back inside and shutting the door behind it.

The dwarf dusted off his hands but didn't take off the gloves just yet. He didn't say a word as he looked into the flames.

"So, what? You're just cooking it?" Thrúd couldn't help but ask.

Sindri sighed. "If that's what will help you wrap your head around the process, then yes. I'm cooking your hammer. Now, you see that lever that I was using before?" He pointed over to the side of the device. After Thrúd nodded, he continued. "On my mark, give it a flip."

Thrúd made her way over to the lever, by which time Sindri had occupied himself turning dials and flipping switches as if he had completely forgotten Thrúd was present. Gripping it in preparation, Thrúd tensed her muscles to be able to flip it at the moment Sindri gave her the word.

After fiddling with more knobs, Sindri stood back and watched the fire through the grated door; an artist watching his magnum opus come to life before him.

"So, what is it you're waiting for?" Thrúd didn't even finish asking the question before Sindri held a gloved hand up to silence her.

"No conversation, please," he requested not unkindly. "The timing of this needs to be exact. I can't focus on this and you at once."

Normally, Thrúd would have snapped back at the prospect of being talked back and down to. But considering the importance of this procedure and the impact it could have on her father's legacy, she found it best not to argue.

The fire grew brighter. Then brighter. Then even brighter still. Thrúd squinted in confusion, wondering how only a kiln-full of flame could produce that much light, even with the aid of some mystical coal.

She blinked in surprise when she realized it wasn't only the flames generating the light.

A white glow was emanating from the hammer. A small, almost pathetic pulse that grew into a constant shine that rivaled one thousand lit candles in a single room as it reacted to the heat. Sindri reached up and nonchalantly slid down a set of goggles Thrúd hadn't realized he was wearing.

Sindri raised his hand slowly in Thrúd's direction to keep her attention, though she was only barely able to see it through the light.

"Some goggles for myself would've been nice," Thrúd groused.

Without looking at her, Sindri said, "Then don't look at my hand, just listen for my signal."

"Then what the fuck is the point of your arm motion for?!"

"Shut the fuck up and just listen!"

With an annoyed grunt, Thrúd did as she was told. She squinted even more as the light shone brighter and brighter still. It felt strange to her to be the partial cause of this unnatural light-related phenomenon in a realm that seemed to generate its own light from an unseen source. She could only wonder what the lindwyrms were thinking as they saw beams of light radiating off Yggdrasil's branches.

"Almost there!" Sindri shouted despite not needing to. The required precise timing that drew his focus was raising his adrenaline, exciting him to see what the results would yield. "Ready . . ." he trailed off, raising his arm higher before swinging it downward. "Now!"

Thrúd flipped the lever as hard as she could.

Almost immediately, the light began to dissipate. The beams of light escaping from the grates shrank and receded back inside the kiln until the only source of light was the fire inside the device. A few moments later, the flames died out as Sindri twisted more knobs.

No longer able to contain her curiosity, Thrúd abandoned her post at the lever and walked next to Sindri. The dwarf shooed the curious goddess behind him as he gripped the door's handle and opened it up. Excess heat rushed out and kissed their cheeks as it rose into the air. Once it was safe enough to open her eyes again, Thrúd did so and gawked at the sight.

The light that seemed to be trapped inside of the hammer after Sindri carved the new markings on it was finally free. White light shone from each elegantly curved line with an image so thick, Thrúd almost thought she could reach out and touch it.

Sindri reached a gloved hand inside and gripped the handle. He held it for a brief moment and twirled it in his hand, allowing the glowing patterns to shine on the nearby walls and surfaces before setting it on the table.

Raising his goggles, he grabbed a ball peen hammer from his bench and tapped Mjolnir. In response, Mjolnir glowed brighter for a millisecond before the shining light crept back to the hammer. No longer did the light protrude from the weapon, but the decorative lines still glowed as if electricity was constantly moving inside of it.

Sindri set the ball peen hammer down and removed his gloves. Without looking at Thrúd, he said, "Don't touch it for about five minutes."

Thrúd shook her head. "No worries there."

As Sindri walked away to sort his tools and bring them back inside, Thrúd leaned against the table with both hands, looking at Mjolnir with the same longing as a child who was told to wait before digging into a cake.

Deeming it safe enough to approach, Hugin flapped his wings and flew over to the table. He scanned the hammer with his curious eyes, hopping around the table to get a better look at it. Satisfied, he looked up at Thrúd.

"So, he did it, huh?" His voice appeared in her head.

"Uh huh," Thrúd said with her jaw hung open. She didn't even realize her hand was reaching for the searing hot handle before Hugin pecked at it in warning. Flinching back, Thrúd held her hand and rubbed the sore spot. "Thanks. Got a little excited."

"I can see that. So, now what do we do?"

Thrúd shrugged. "I'm not sure. Evidently, I've still got at least one more chore to take care of for his royal majesty that he neglected to tell me about."

"For starters," Sindri interrupted as he gathered more tools into his arms, "I didn't neglect to tell you. Because this procedure wasn't done yet, there was simply no point in bringing it up. Secondly," he continued, "the 'chore' you speak of is not for my sake. It's for the hammer's. Like I said, after this, we're done."

"What," Thrúd laughed, "and give up your cherished friendship?" He shot her a look. "Sorry. Anyway, what's left? What do I have to do now? Steal a dragon's tooth?"

He ignored the sarcastic question. "It's nothing difficult, so don't worry your pretty little head about that." He circled around the table, picking up more tools. "You have to take it to Alfheim and hold it inside the light."

"The light of Alfheim?"

"The one and only," he confirmed. "There's a catch, though."

"Of course there is."

He ignored that as well. "You must hold it inside the light for no longer and no less than thirteen seconds. I repeat: thirteen seconds exactly," the dwarf stressed.

Thrúd was visibly confused. "Why thirteen seconds exactly? That's an oddly specific number."

Sindri opened his mouth in faux shock. "Are you telling me that units of measurement when it comes to smithing needs to be," he gulped for added effect, "precise?"

"Are you ever not a bitch?"

"Ok then. That's fine. Put it in there for longer. See what happens. It's not my family legacy I'm trying to protect, after all." He turned his back to her and began carrying his tools to his house.

Thrúd let out a frustrated breath. "I'm sorry," she called out. "I guess I'm just a little-"

"Impatient?" Sindri kindly finished for her, stopping in his tracks and turning around to face her. "I understand the frustrations of these tasks and the seemingly endless nature of it all, but need I remind you that I've been doing this for an exceedingly long time and know a thing or two about this? I didn't have to help you at all, you know."

Thrúd nodded. "I know, I know." She sighed again. "So, what were you saying?"

"Thirteen seconds is the exact amount of time it will take for the light of Alfheim to make the effects of my work on Mjolnir permanent."

Thrúd blinked. "Permanent?" She glanced down at the still glowing hammer. "You mean it's not already?"

"I'm afraid not. Because of the nature of the enchanted whetstones, you can only get one use of their enchantments before having to replenish it again, as you've seen already on your own adventures. My process here was no different. Mjolnir is now enchanted with the whetstone's power and it has been amplified by the flames blessed by the coal, but should you use it before putting it into the light, the enchantment will be lost."

After hearing his explanation, Thrúd shrugged. "Well, if I use it accidentally, I can always just come back here for another touch-up, right? You still have the whetstone, you could just do it again! I know you'd love for me to pop in again for a surprise visit. Admit it, you'd miss me," she joked, but her smile faded when she saw Sindri's face displayed zero humor.

"I'm afraid that won't work." He tapped a spot on the table next to Mjolnir. "These markings I made? They're only good for a one-time use. There's no more room on the hammer for any more. You only have one chance to get this right, Thrúd."

And just like that, Thrúd's hopes dwindled a significant amount.

With the finish line in plain sight and her goal so close to being achieved, she was blind to the possibility of any other obstacle that could be thrown in her path. Her first instinct was to lash out; to criticize Sindri's work and question why he had failed to mention this before.

She wisely suppressed those instincts and did her best to calm her nerves with a steadying breath. "So, no pressure, huh?"

"It may not be as harrowing as it sounds," Sindri did his best to reassure her. "So long as you remain focused and don't lose count, nothing will go wrong. Why does it have to be thirteen seconds precisely?" He shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. All I know is that any less, and the light and magic won't meld properly, and the enchantment will fade to oblivion. Too much, and it will set off a chain reaction inside Mjolnir itself, making it too unstable to safely use."

"So, I either lose the enchantment or destroy the hammer altogether," she mused over her options, eyeing the hammer as if it might move on its own. "Not big on either of those." Thrúd let out an ironic laugh. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to do this for me?"

Thrúd didn't even have to look at him to know his head was tilted as if to ask 'really?'

"Kidding," she reassured. "So . . . why?"

Sindri let a breath out of his nose. "I told you, I don't know why it has to be thirteen seconds. That's just the way it-"

Thrúd waved off his irritation. "No, no, not that." He was silenced. "Why did you help me?" She finally asked. "You said so yourself. You didn't need to."

Suddenly, the dwarf looked conflicted. Almost as if he was questioning whether or not he should answer honestly. After a few moments of silent consideration, he finally relented. "To be honest, the stakes of my involvement were pretty low."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I never expected you to make it this far," he flat out said. "Everything I told you about how to improve Mjolnir's integrity was the truth, but I never thought you'd actually survive. I mean, there you were," he gestured broadly at her, "this daring, inexperienced young warrior with so much to prove that you were willing to throw yourself headlong into danger without a second thought if it meant you got to use your daddy's hammer."

He paused again. "I figured you'd die trying to get the ingredients I needed. Then you and the hammer wouldn't be my problem anymore."

Thrúd was stunned to silence. Anger bubbled inside her gut and threatened to erupt with the same volcanic force of Muspelheim itself. Her instincts almost kicked in again, telling her to take up Mjolnir and cave in the dwarf's skull. Two things stopped her from doing that:

The first was the thought that Mjolnir was still more than likely blisteringly hot to the touch.

Secondly, so many other details began to fall into place with the same accuracy and clarity of a puzzle whose image was fuzzy until right now.

"You were trying to let me get Mjolnir destroyed for you," she said. "Just like the other weapons that you created," she continued as she remembered her first encounter with the blacksmith. The image of him nonchalantly tossing his and his brother's weapons over the edge of his property and into the void of the realm between realms still clear in her mind's eye.

"That's what you've been doing since Ragnarok, isn't it?" She asked. "Tracking down your old weapons so that no one could use them anymore."

"And if you were lying dead in some realm out there with Mjolnir defenseless, Grámtrist would've eventually found his way to it and destroy it. One less thing to worry about."

Every fiber of her existence was telling her to be angry; to scream and shout and throw his body over the edge with extreme prejudice. She's not sure if she would have followed through with that idea if he hadn't kept talking.

"But then you kept coming back."

Thrúd blinked in surprise.

"Like an annoying dog I kept throwing a stick for to keep distracted, you kept coming back."

"Rude."

"You kept coming back, and each time, I saw less and less of a selfish little girl with a death wish. Suddenly, I was helping someone who was trying to help the realms again." His eyes became glassy, he dropped the tools on the table and rested his hands on top of them. "During which time I'd go out and find more of mine and my brother's handiwork to toss into the," he waved at the edge noncommittally, "abyss, whatever you want to call it. Ratatoskr, however, took it upon himself to retrieve them rather than let them lie," he added with annoyance. "So, smelting them it is."

Thrúd still didn't understand something. "But why?"

Sindri sucked in another breath, this one looked as if it pained him to draw in. "The Huldra name, like the case with all most dwarves, has been abused for too long by the Aesir. Any good intention that Brok and I had when we started our careers are all but forgotten in the ocean of despair created by Odin. The realms are better off without the Huldra name," he stared intently at the edge of his home. "Permanently."

She could see it in his eyes. He meant every word. She wasn't sure if she was going to have to restrain him lest he take off running right now.

Not that she could do anything about it. For starters, he's proven time and time again that he can simply maneuver himself out of her grasp by stepping between the realms. Secondly, it wasn't her place to stand between Sindri and what he wants to do with himself.

All she could hope to do was change his mind.

After exchanging glances from Sindri to the edge of his property a few times, she casually placed her hands on her hips. "That'd be a pretty anticlimactic end for the dwarf who killed Odin."

Sindri looked at her in surprise. Thrúd thought for a moment he would inquire how she got that information, but decided shortly after that he didn't care. He shrugged off the comment. "That was Atreus. I simply finished the job."

"All the same," Thrúd said. "Instead of taking the easy way out, have you ever considered that maybe you could use your skills to, like, help people instead?"

"They don't want my help."

"That's horseshit. And you know it." She leaned her arms on the table so she was eye level with the blacksmith. "Your friends miss you. They're worried about you and want to know you're alright."

Sindri made it a point to avoid her gaze. "They can keep on worrying for all I care."

"You don't mean that." She leaned in closer. "You were just saying how helping me gave you some purpose again. Do you really want to throw that feeling away after you just got it back?"

"You know what they say," he met her gaze for a brief moment. "Best to go out on a high note."

Defeated, Thrúd let out a breath and hung her head low, conceding to the fact that Sindri didn't want to be saved. She chewed on her lip and stood upright once again.

"Alright," she started. "Whatever. Do what you want. Just like you, I don't care anymore." Reaching inside her pockets, Thrúd produced the travel stone and slammed it on the table like an empty shot glass. "I won't bother you anymore."

She grabbed Mjolnir's handle and placed the still-glowing weapon at her hip. Thrúd had forgotten about the extreme temperature it was just exposed to only a short while ago, but the heat had died down enough for her to touch without being harmed.

Thrúd marched away from the table and over to the pile of rocks that forms the portal to the branches of the world tree itself. Hugin cawed and flew over to her shoulder.

"Just know this though," Thrúd began again, desperation bubbling its way up to the surface. "There's a project going on in Midgard. A big one. Something that will solidify the end of Odin's reign and start a new chapter for the realms. I don't know if it will be one full of peace or some shit like that, but I certainly hope so. They're building the future, and they want you to be part of it." He still refused to look her way. "They've got a solid team with them already, but they could still use the help of a legendary blacksmith."

He still didn't respond.

"Just . . ." her shoulders slumped. "Thanks for your help with Mjolnir. No matter how this turns out, I'll never forget it."

She couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn she saw him nod.

With a whisper to the raven on her shoulder, Thrúd was whisked away in the usual flurry of feathers, leaving the blacksmith alone with one last choice to make.

A/N: I'm going to do something that I hoped I would never have to do, but with the traffic graph still down on this site, my motivation dropped exponentially on this chapter. When I started this story, it was never to get a whole bunch of reviews or anything like that. It was meant to be shared with other fans of the game.

What kept me writing was knowing that it seemed to be reaching those people. Whenever I saw the traffic graph peak after posting a new chapter, it made my day knowing that you guys were giving this little project of mine a shot!

But, as I'm sure most of you have noticed, that traffic graph hasn't been functioning for about a month now, meaning I have no idea who has gotten to this story.

Again, I hoped to never do this, but if you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a little comment saying what you liked or didn't like about it. And that doesn't just apply to me. Everyone on the site is going through this. If you're reading something and you are enjoying it, let them know. Leave a little review for them. It will make them happier more than you realize.

I still fully intend on finishing this story; we've now reached the final arc of it! But if you would like the chapters to arrive faster than this one did, do me a favor and show it a little bit of love, please.