Thrúd lost track of time after the second hour of waiting. Once her legs began to feel as though they were being attacked by pins and needles, she rose to her feet and paced around to regain circulation and to nullify her boredom.
First, she left the hammer sitting on the ground, not wanting its weight to remind her of the fight that was coming. She had enough imagination and paranoia to remind her of that. Next, she traveled back up the slope and meandered through the fire giant's workshop.
Pausing in front of a shelf, she found a large mallet sitting there covered in ash, unused for ages.
Thrúd scrunched up her eyebrows in thought as she picked it up and surveyed it from all sides. A flap of wings let her know that Hugin landed nearby.
"What, are you shopping now?" His voice asked inside of her head accompanied by a squawk. "Is your badass hammer not good enough for you anymore? That's a relief. Now you can just give the damn thing to Grámtrist and be done with all this."
She ignored his jab and continued to look over the tool.
"Could you do me a favor?"
"As if I haven't done enough favors as of late?"
She ignored that remark as well. Rather than feed into his sarcasm, Thrúd found a discarded piece of cloth and laid it on the table. Going over to the end of the workshop, she found a spear with a wooden shaft propped against the table. Snapping the spear in two, she took one half of it and dipped it inside a firepit that hadn't seen a flame in eons. It did, however, still have ash and soot sitting inside.
Once she deemed it ready, Thrúd removed the shaft and went back over to the piece of cloth. Hugin blinked in curiosity when he saw her begin to write a message on it using her makeshift quill. As soon as he read what she wrote, he understood his next mission.
Thrúd wrapped the cloth around the mallet and set it next to the raven. "Deliver this for me?" She set it on a nearby table. "I'd have you teleport me there, but I don't want to leave Muspelheim just yet."
That wasn't entirely true. Thrúd would love nothing more than to leave this hot mess of a realm and let Grámtrist continue his wild goose chase for a little while longer. But she knew that wasn't the best idea. The sooner this altercation was finished, the closer she'd get to making Mjolnir impervious to everything the realms could throw at it.
Yet, after finding the workshop of Surtr himself, she couldn't shake the idea that planted itself inside of her head.
Hugin looked from the hammer back to Thrúd again a few times before hopping over to the mallet, pecking it a few times as if testing its magical capabilities. When he found that there were none, he looked back at Thrúd.
"Will you be fine without me for a few minutes?"
"I think I'll manage."
Hugin took that as his leave. Clutching the handle of the mallet in both talons, the large raven flapped his wings and lifted off, struggling with the new weight but righting himself as he flew away, disappearing into the realms.
As soon as he was gone, Thrúd walked down the slope, hovering her hand over the useless sword hilts sticking out of the ground as she passed them, and picked up Mjolnir.
Now that she thought of it, she couldn't help but laugh at the prospect of possibly being bored at this point in time; She was staying in one spot until Grámtrist found her and attempted yet again to destroy the hammer, but the waiting period seemed to outweigh the dread of the possibility of the hammer getting destroyed beyond all repair.
She had no idea that the thought was even possible, so at that, she had nothing left to do but chuckle.
As soon as she was done, she twirled the hammer in her grasp. "Well, maybe I can throw you around for a little bit until he gets here."
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Any humor she found in her current situation was immediately lost, all but snuffed out at the familiar noise. Well, so much for that.
Thrúd returned the hammer to her hip and turned around to find the traveler she had been waiting for standing underneath the opening of a cave. His massive sword rested at his hip and his equally large shield snug on his back, Grámtrist stood stock still as if he were yet another decorative set of armor that adorned all sorts of halls back at Asgard.
She still wasn't able to tell what he was looking at due to his helmet, but she could easily tell that his eyes were on the hammer. Conversely, her eyes went over to her own goal: the sack that was slung around his shoulder and hung at his side, housing several enchanted whetstones.
One of which she was in dire need of.
Praying that her uncertainty and mild shaking was unnoticeable, Thrúd broke the silence between them first.
"T-Took you long enough."
As expected, he appeared unamused. "This would be over with if you had simply yielded the hammer back in Midgard. And even more so had you done the same in Svartalheim."
His tinny voice was exactly as Thrúd remembered it; hollow but purposeful.
"Well, here's some advice," Thrúd suggested, her hand splayed over the hammer as if adding her own protective layer against him. "Think of a better opening line other than 'hello, my love,' and maybe then I'd listen to what you have to say."
"You listening to what I have to say has no relevance to what I want. You possess the hammer. I need it."
"You don't need it!" Thrúd corrected incredulously. "You want to break it! And what for? To bring- what was her name, Embla back to life?"
Suddenly, Thrúd became acutely aware that his eyes were on nothing else besides her at that moment. He remained silent long enough for her blood to completely turn to ice in her veins.
"Embla is dead," he said with finality, as if it was a statement that even the most competitive of debaters could agree on. "No magic can bring her back. Your father saw to that personally." Thrúd hoped that he didn't see her gasp. "The only thing that I can do for her now is set her free."
Grámtrist appeared as if he had far more to say, but his words died before they were even muttered. His intimidating composure slumped. His shoulders sagged after a long sigh. He shook his head slowly as if he were recalling a memory that he kept with fondness. For all Thrúd knew, he was.
"We were supposed to do so much together. We were the first to wander the realms, and there is still so much left to see. To discover. Now all she's able to discover is how quickly an oafish, drunk god can bash someone's skull in with her new body . . . and now that honor has been passed on to you, I see. Tell me." Clank. "Is killing relentlessly all the more satisfying?" Clank. "Has the rush intensified?" Clank.
With each rhetorical question, he approached her. Thrúd kept her distance with every step he took, but his longer legs brought him closer to her faster than she could get away.
"You're sure doing your best to act all tough as shit when you're the one who's been stalking a teenaged girl these past few days. And how many people have you killed with that sword of yours, huh?" She gestured to the sword at his side. "No way you haven't killed anybody. So, who are you to judge?"
Grámtrist stopped. If Thrúd had to guess, his face looked a bit sheepish under his helmet. "You're correct." His fingers traced the edge of his blade. "I've taken lives in my pursuit to free Embla. There's no doubt that that has saddened her. We were so peaceful for a time, never having harmed a fly. Now I will bear that weight on my heart until the day I join her in the light of Alfheim. But for that to happen," his resolve hardened once again, "that hammer must be destroyed."
"Why?!" Thrúd shouted. "Why does it have to be? How do you know whoever you're looking for is inside of it? Even if she is, isn't there some way to-"
"Had I not already known, you would have revealed to me your Asgardian upbringing because of your ignorance," he interrupted. With one more step forward, Grámtrist drew his sword and pointed it at Mjolnir. "Embla rests inside. And she is waiting for me to free her."
Thrúd took out her mace and pointed back at him. "Well, she's going to keep waiting if I have anything to say about it."
"Like I said," Grámtrist took out a green whetstone and scraped it across the blade, "your word isn't relevant."
With the glowing green sword, Grámtrist swiped at the air twice, sending a sickly green X flying toward Thrúd. Not wishing to find out what the spell would do upon impact, Thrúd dashed out of the way and immediately doused herself with lightning.
Electricity sparking and glowing around her, Thrúd ran forward before Grámtrist could throw another swing. With both hands, she targeted his joints with the mace, using the electricity as a speed boost to do so. This did little to slow down his next attack: an overhead swing that was aimed at the middle of her head. She raised her arm and summoned her shield, deflecting the sword and redirecting it to the ground.
Recovering quickly, Grámtrist gripped the hilt with both hands and swung in a horizontal arc. With no time to move out of the way, Thrúd ducked and sidestepped to avoid the strike. Swinging again, Thrúd avoided it the same way and allowed his momentum to expose his side with the sack dangling off his shoulder.
Thrúd reached out to pluck it, but Grámtrist grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her to the side. She was unable to stop herself from tripping onto the ground. She twisted around in time to raise her shield and stop his next strike from cutting her in two. The two of them struggled for a few moments, each one waiting for the other to give way.
"So, I was correct," the traveler mused, his arms shaking as he continued to force the shield down against the stubborn young goddess. "You need the whetstones. Ironic that we each carry the other's destiny."
Gritting her teeth, Thrúd shakily rose to her feet and pushed the massive sword to the side. "For fuck's sake," she growled. "Shut the Hel up!" Keeping the shield out, she bashed it against Grámtrist's helmet, stunning him.
Taking advantage of her brief window, Thrúd continued her flurry of attacks with her mace, disheartened but not surprised at the lack of damage it was doing to his durable armor. It was succeeding, however, at increasing her adrenaline. Lightning wrapping around her arms like sleeves, Thrúd continued her assault, not allowing Grámtrist time to load up another attack.
Just as she feared, her adrenaline rush was extinguished quickly. Thrúd could feel her lungs beginning to burn and her arms growing weary from the effort. Finally, she slowed down just enough for Grámtrist to twist around and let her mace clang harmlessly against his own shield. Disoriented from the sudden stop, Thrúd stumbled backward.
Dropping to a runner's stance, Grámtrist pushed himself forward and thrust his sword in front of him, aiming it straight at Mjolnir on her hip with pinpoint accuracy. Thrúd parried it just in time with the mace and stepped out of the way as Grámtrist ran forward until he exhausted his momentum.
He turned around, clearly annoyed with the girl. "You can't avoid using the hammer forever. If you want any hope at defeating me, you need it."
Thrúd hated to admit it, but he was right. The mace wasn't doing anything except making him angry, and despite her godly strength, she was nowhere near strong enough to put a dent in it with her lightning-reinforced fists. That only left Mjolnir as her only viable option to defend herself.
Luckily, her only goal at the moment wasn't to defeat him, but to snag the whetstone and leave. But despite the simplicity of the task itself, Grámtrist's surprising speed and agility made it increasingly difficult.
Doing her best to quiet her heartbeat from echoing inside her head, Thrúd slowly took out Mjolnir, holding it and her mace out with both hands, a new idea forming in her head.
As she took out the hammer, Grámtrist followed suit by fishing out a red whetstone. Without taking his eyes away from his target, he scraped it along the blade and engulfed it in a foreboding red aura that shimmered across the edges.
Gulping, Thrúd ignored the voices in her head that told her to put the hammer away and make a run for it. Instead, she took a few tentative steps closer to the traveler. As she got closer, Grámtrist tensed his arms, a serpent prepared to strike.
With only a few feet left between them, Thrúd's panic began to rise, her composure threatening to break at any moment. But she willed herself to get a little closer with Mjolnir in plain view.
"This is all you want, right?" She coaxed but was not surprised when he didn't answer since his response was obvious.
She kept walking forward with tentative steps as if she were a hunter approaching a deer, cautious for any sudden movements on his part. He pointed the sword at the ground by his feet, the red aura shimmering and swirling with the movement. "Put it down."
Nodding, Thrúd said, "No problem."
Thrúd tossed the hammer behind her like a discarded toy. Snapping her fingers, Thrúd zipped back to the hammer and caught it before it hit the ground.
"Gotta catch me, first."
Grámtrist let his frustration out in a tinny roar, swinging his sword and releasing another arc of energy her way.
She threw the hammer again, but much closer to his side this time. With another snap of her fingers, Thrúd avoided the attack and zipped across, striking his armor with her mace as she passed. She caught Mjolnir and came to a skidding halt behind the traveler and was pleased to find that she had finally made progress.
Grámtrist stumbled backward from the impact and clutched his side where the mace struck true. The armor was scratched and dented, poking at his body inside.
There was no stopping the smug smile that crawled on Thrúd's face. "I've got you now, bastard."
She threw the hammer again. Grámtrist swung wide but was too slow. ZIP! CLANG! Thrúd whizzed through the air and struck again, this time at his shin, eliciting a yelp of surprise and pain. She came to a halt again and wasted no time in doing it again.
And again.
And again after that.
Her confidence alight, Thrúd felt no fatigue as she threw the hammer to and fro; only the euphoria of landing hits on her overwhelmed opponent. She kept her movements erratic, unpredictable and fast until her body was nearly imperceptible. All Grámtrist was able to see was a white and blue blur of electricity zipping back and forth like a rubber ball hitting invisible walls, unable to stop the onslaught.
Laughter echoed off the walls almost ethereally. It took Thrúd a few moments to realize that it was coming from her. With another zip, Thrúd aimed for the traveler's side, prepared to snag the sack straight from his shoulder. Her laughter ceased once she realized that Grámtrist caught on to her geometric pattern and anticipated her next attack.
Swinging his arm instead of the sword, Grámtrist successfully clotheslined her on her next pass. Thrúd let out a choked yell as she flipped end over end and rolled to a stop dangerously close to the edge of the plateau they battled on.
She pushed herself to a kneeling position, groaning as she did and assessed the new scratches and any possible injuries. The good news was nothing was too hurt. The bad news was she couldn't find her mace.
Looking to the side, Thrúd found it lying at Grámtrist's feet. His sword at his hip, Grámtrist picked up the mace with both hands and bent it in half until it snapped in two from the stress.
Thrúd's heart plummeted. She lost her sword battling him in Svartalfheim, now she succeeded in losing her mace. Two out of the three gifts given to her by her father extinguished and lost by the same person, and he still wanted to take more.
He threw the two halves to the ground. "No excuses now," he growled.
Thrúd was still stunned by her tumble and from what she had just witnessed, she couldn't will herself to rise to her feet.
This gave Grámtrist ample time to fish out another item from his sack. To Thrúd's surprise, it wasn't another colored whetstone. In his hand was some kind of spherical rock with glowing runes covering its face. He held it aloft until it glowed even brighter and levitated out of his grasp.
Blue clouds of magic swirled around his body as if he were in a blizzard that only targeted him. But rather than damaging him further, Thrúd cursed her luck when she found that it was beginning to repair him instead.
She could see all the scratches and blemishes in his armor fade away, the dents pushing themselves back out until the surface was as smooth as it was minutes before. All the work that Thrúd had put into even slightly damaging his armor plating amounted to nothing.
The swirling clouds ceased, and the sphere dropped back into his hand. He placed it back into his sack before facing Thrúd once again. Good as new.
"The hammer," he demanded.
Thrúd double checked to make sure that Mjolnir was safe with her and got her answer when she curled her fists around its shaft. Lightning arced from the hammer up her arm and didn't stop until she was engulfed in it like a new suit of armor.
She found the strength to rise to her feet and focused on the traveler before her as if no one else existed in the realms except for him. She was about to correct that.
"You want it?" She asked, pointing the hammer at him. "HERE YOU GO!"
Grámtrist had no time to react as she dashed forward, scorching the already scorched ground beneath her, and thrust the hammer forward to take her off her feet and soar into his gut. The collision carried them both to the volcanic wall. Thrúd aimed upward and pushed him not only into the wall, but upwards as well.
Her screams were the only other thing she was able to hear other than the screeching of his metal armor scraping along the wall, his large body making an effective umbrella for the loose chunks of rock they knocked loose on their ascent. Occasionally, she could make out his grunts of discomfort from his many collisions with the protruding rocks on the way up. This only satisfied her lust for payback a little.
Before they knew it, they ran out of wall but continued to rise over the mountaintops, the screeching metal replaced with the whooshing of air.
Thrúd all but clawed her way up along Grámtrist's body until she was face level with him. As soon as she was, she flipped her grip on Mjolnir so she was holding it upside down and smashed it in Grámtrist's face as many times as she could. With each strike, his head was knocked backwards, and electricity arced off every time.
With Mjolnir now being used offensively rather than a method of thrust, Thrúd felt the two of them begin to plummet. The sensation of falling didn't hinder Thrúd's strikes any; she intended on continuing until they hit the ground.
After one last strike, Grámtrist shook his head to regain his bearings. Seeing her arm coming down one last time, he raised his arm and blocked her strike. With his other arm, he wiggled it between the two of them and grabbed onto her throat. Letting out a choked gasp, Thrúd could do nothing as Grámtrist twisted his body and threw her off him.
Her body flailed in the air in a feeble attempt to grab back on, but she wasn't able to before she entered a freefall. Gripping the hammer, Thrúd planned to thrust it upward to slow her descent, but she collided with a mountain peak before she could do so.
Spinning out of control, Thrúd let out another pained cry as she hit the side of another mountain, jarring Mjolnir out of her grasp. Thrúd gasped in pain again as she landed hard on an outcropping rock from the side of a volcano. Shaking off the sudden stop as quickly as she could, Thrúd sloppily rose to her feet and searched for the hammer.
She found it lying on its side on the ground fifty feet below her.
Her relief lasted only moments when she saw Grámtrist plummeting down towards it, his sword pointed to the ground as if he planned on splitting the entire realm in two.
Thrúd snapped her fingers and summoned Mjolnir back to her mere moments before his sword plunged into the ground several feet, landing in a kneeling position with all the control of a skilled warrior. Grámtrist rose to his feet and removed his sword from the charred ground, looking up to where he saw the hammer disappear to and found Thrúd, aiming it at him yet again.
It crackled with electricity before Thrúd sent a lightning strike his way. He jumped out of the way just in time, though the impact of the bolt made him stumble. She aimed back at him and fired again, and Grámtrist moved out of the way.
This dance continued five more times before he grabbed a yellow whetstone from his side. Timing it perfectly, Grámtrist jumped out of the way of her next blast, scraped the whetstone across his blade, and swung it in one fluid motion.
A yellow arc sailed straight for Thrúd, forcing her to abandon her perch and leap off its side, sliding down the rest of the mountain as it crashed onto the rock she was just standing on, shattering it to pieces.
Thrúd rolled to a stop at the bottom and got to her feet in time to parry another strike with her shield. Successfully knocking it aside, she was, however, knocked backward into the wall again. She raised her shield and prevented the sword from striking her midsection, though Grámtrist pushed with all of his might and held the sword in place, forcing Thrúd to grit her teeth and moan in pain as she was pushed into the jagged wall behind her.
"Why do you insist on this?!" He asked, finally yelling. "You think this matter concerns you, but it doesn't! I told you before that hammer isn't merely a hammer. It doesn't even belong to you! Let me free my Embla and I'll leave you alone. Don't make me have to kill you, please!"
His tone was desperate. Thrúd couldn't help but believe that he meant it when he said he doesn't want to kill her. What she couldn't believe though was the small voice in the back of her mind that was trying to convince her to take his offer.
The moment Mjolnir is destroyed, this would all be over. She'd never have to deal with Sindri's bitterness again. She could master a different weapon. Best of all, odds were that she'd never see Grámtrist again and he would go bother somebody else.
Every other part of Thrúd's being, however, knew that that was some serious bullshit.
She used her other arm to brace her shield so she had both of them holding Grámtrist back. With a cry of effort, she pushed forward, leaning her body away from the wall. Grámtrist took a step back to keep his balance as she resisted.
With a snarl, Thrúd looked into the slit of his helmet and into his eyes. "You had your chance." She forced him backwards again. "You've had your chance for hundreds of years to face my dad and destroy Mjolnir yourself! But you were too chicken shit to try!" She took another step, letting go of the shield with her other hand to grab Mjolnir, holding it at the ready. "And here's where you're wrong," she continued. "The hammer is mine. If you want to break it, you're going to have to kill me."
Rearing back as far as she could, Thrúd delivered an uppercut to Grámtrist's chin with the hammer, letting go at the last second to let it carry him several hundred feet in the air. Snapping her fingers, she summoned it back to her, allowing the traveler's ascent to slow until he began to fall.
Moments before he hit the ground, Thrúd threw the hammer straight into his armored chest, sending him flying over the edge of the mountain like an electrified comet. Thrúd took off in a sprint and leapt over the edge, allowing gravity to take her. Arms spread wide as if she were welcoming the rapidly approaching ground, Thrúd guided herself to follow Grámtrist and Mjolnir. Thrúd caught up with them in a literal snap, standing atop his flailing body as they all fell.
The ground met them as violently as Thrúd expected, but she stayed on top of his armor as he slid to a stop as soon as his momentum disappeared. Grámtrist let out a pained moan, momentarily unable to so much as lift his head off the ground.
Stepping off his chest, Thrúd reached down and dug her hand inside the burlap bag on his side, pulling out multiple whetstones until she found one decorated with white runes. She held it up to her face, inspecting it with the same thoroughness one would inspect a diamond to ensure its authenticity. Satisfied, she clutched it tighter and relaxed her arms at her sides, looking down at her adversary.
With a shrug, she said, "Anything else you want to try?" She held the whetstone out so he could see it. "Next time you see me, Mjolnir's not gonna break as easily. Got any other tricks up your sleeves?"
She couldn't help it. A boast seemed earned on her part after everything he had put her through. Thrúd couldn't just leave and not say anything.
Although now she sorely wish that she had.
Through more labored breaths, Grámtrist whispered out, "Always."
Without Thrúd noticing, he dug his hand into the bag as well, pulling out another sphere. Holding it up, he crushed it in his grasp. The resulting flash blinded Thrúd for several moments. She covered her eyes with both hands, causing her to drop both the whetstone and hammer, giving Grámtrist ample time to rise to his feet and fish out another sphere.
The swirling magic returned. As soon as the spots ceased dancing in her vision, she was pushed backward by an invisible concussive force once his healing spell was completed. Rolling to a stop, Thrúd immediately snapped her fingers to summon Mjolnir, not wanting to risk its destruction amidst her confusion.
Struggling to lift herself to her feet, Grámtrist saved her the trouble by grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her face into the ground. "Stupid girl," he said. "You should have left with the whetstone when you had the chance."
In light of recent events, Thrúd was forced to agree.
Slamming her face into the ground again, Grámtrist grabbed the waistline of her skirts with his other hand and twirled Thrúd around like a log before letting go, sending her flying away from him. Thrúd struggled to hang onto Mjolnir, fighting against the opposing forces that tried to yank it from her grip.
She came to a stop much sooner than she thought she would. Her side cracked against a material she wasn't expecting to feel in this environment. Falling to the ground after the impact, Thrúd looked up to see a giant metal sword jutting out of the ground just like the smaller ones back at Sutr's workshop. The biggest difference between those and the one that she crashed against was clearly its size. It looked as if Ymir himself was the only one able to use it.
The other difference lay in the decorations. This one was immaculately crafted and molded at the hilt with crests of gold and mesmerizing patterns adorning it as well.
Apparently, the last giant to have used this wasn't satisfied with it anymore, as they felt the need to plunge it into the ground so far, Thrúd was almost head-level with the hilt. She stared at her reflection in the circular center where the hilt met the blade for a moment before twisting around to see Grámtrist walking towards her again.
Fury injected into her bloodstream, Thrúd pressed her hand against the blade to steady herself as she rose to her feet, not wishing to be easy prey for him. She switched her hands over and over as she stood up taller until her fingertips brushed against the clear black surface.
A low hum rumbled around them.
Grámtrist stopped dead in his tracks.
Thrúd looked back at the sword. She leapt back in alarm as it sank lower into the ground until it was completely encapsulated underneath. With the sword out of the way, Thrúd was able to get a better look at their new space:
It was a plateau identical to all the others they'd come across during their battle, but the biggest difference with the others were the three caves inside the walls surrounding them.
Footsteps were heard coming out of the farthest left one.
Risking a look back to Grámtrist, she analyzed his body language. If she were to guess, she didn't think he was expecting any visitors either.
The footsteps grew louder, now accompanied by an other-wordly snarl.
A lone dragr emerged from the cave's depths, appearing just as lost and confused as the other two occupants of the mountain.
Thrúd couldn't help but chuckle silently. One dragr? This shouldn't be that bad. Where did he come from?
Behind her, Grámtrist let out a surprised yell. Twisting around with her hammer raised, Thrúd watched as a Tatzelwurm burst out of the ground at his feet and wrapped its serpentine body around his ankles. He yelled in protest as he fell to the ground, allowing the Tatzelwurm to hop onto his armor, hopelessly clawing at it and drooling acid as it went.
Another laugh. Thanks, little guy.
Any other desires to laugh quickly left her system as more footsteps were heard, this set far bigger and louder than the previous set.
Out of the middle tunnel erupted two ogres, both of them roaring in rage. The far left and right tunnels spewed out more and more dragr, and the flow of them didn't appear to be slowing soon.
Thrúd twirled Mjolnir in her grip, prepared for more fighting.
Without checking to see the status of the traveler, Thrúd charged over to the first set of dragr, splitting them in half with one swing of the hammer each. Leaping into the air with Mjolnir aloft, she caught the chin of one of the ogres, making it stumble in surprise.
Rolling between its legs, she came out the other side face to face with a Hel walker, a wooden shield at the ready. His shield did little against Mjolnir as it exploded into splinters, the Hel walker flying against the wall and poofing away in a cloud of blue smoke.
An assortment of baddies poured out of the caves with little regard to the skirmish that the two of them were having moments prior. Without looking back, she could tell that Grámtrist got back to his feet and was fending off his own set of undead adversaries, if the clanking of metal and screams were any indication.
After dealing with another set of Hel walkers, Thrúd began to feel the weariness setting in. "What the Hel is this? Where are they all coming from?"
Grámtrist caught his breath after slicing three dragr in half with one swing. "Stupid girl! You activated Surtr's trials!"
Thrúd put a hand on her chest. "Me?! You're the one who threw me at the fucking- whoa!" One of the ogres swung wide, forcing her to duck and weave to the other side. Quickly, it turned and roared in her face, clearly not pleased at having missed its target.
In response, Thrúd raised Mjolnir and let out a bright flash of electricity. Two giant arms raised up to its eyes in vain as black spots danced in its vision. The ogre swung again, but only succeeded in knocking three Hel walkers into a pool of lava beside it.
Allowing the ogre to do some more damage for her, Thrúd turned around and prepared to charge at Grámtrist and attempt to steal his bag while he was distracted. She didn't get a chance to even start running as three more dragr approached her, their weapons raised and ready to strike.
Before they could so much as throw them at her, a giant burst of fire fell from the sky and obliterated the three of them in moments. Backing up in alarm, Thrúd looked up to find a dragon decided to join in on their fun, circling around their arena and trying to decide where it would strike next. She sent the dragon a rude gesture. "Because it's not already stressful enough down here! Thanks!"
As soon as the fire died out, Thrúd started running again, but stopped as a new plan formed in her head.
She gripped Mjolnir in anticipation, timing her next move with Grámtrist's movements. He was still currently locked in combat with an agile wyvern. The lithe dragon proved difficult to handle as it hopped about with its wings and used its strong legs to charge, but it wasn't enough to defeat him. Swinging his large sword, he decapitated the wyvern in a smooth strike. Its body slumped to the ground twitching before vanishing into ash.
Taking a moment of reprieve, Grámtrist stood tall and proud, catching his breath but remaining on alert.
Thrúd noticed his eyes weren't on her and took her next move.
She threw Mjolnir high overhead and let it sail over the traveler. Thrúd kept one eye shut and followed it with her pointed finger, making sure she timed it correctly. With a snap of her fingers, Mjolnir halted its descent and soared back toward her with Grámtrist in between the two.
Thrúd successfully threaded the needle as Mjolnir slipped between Grámtrist's side and arm, the hilt snagging onto the sack hanging from his shoulder. The material ripped from the force and its contents spilled to the ground.
Stunned, Grámtrist surveyed the mess before finding Thrúd again, hammer back in hand. She didn't have time to shoot him a smug look as her eyes flashed across the ground looking for the item she was here to retrieve.
Finally, her eyes landed on a whetstone with white runes decorating it, the only one of the bunch mixed in the spill. Looking up, she saw Grámtrist begin to charge forward, reaching down to scoop it up. Thrúd matched his intensity with her own, running with her arm outstretched.
Neither one of them made it there first.
The ogre Thrúd encountered moments ago, still blinded from the flash, stumbled between them and kicked it to the edge of the plateau. It would have skidded over the edge had a Tatzelwurm not resurfaced in time for it to bounce off its body.
Still stumbling blindly, the ogre swept Grámtrist aside and moved on. Not desiring to waste her opportunity, Thrúd made a beeline for the whetstone.
Shrieking in protest from being hit by a white stone, the Tatzelwurm began to burrow back underground. As it did, its tail flailed and knocked the whetstone away moments before Thrúd could grab it.
Skidding across the ground once again, it didn't stop until it hit the foot of a passing Hel walker. The undead abomination leaned down and picked it up, curious about its new possession.
Thrúd rolled her eyes at the newly presented chore. "For fuck's sake."
She dug her heels to the ground and redirected her run until she was mere feet away from the whetstone's current owner. But before she could swing her hammer-
SNAP!
The dragon returned for another pass, snatching the Hel walker in his jaws and swallowing it whole before flying away as if it hadn't just taken away Thrúd's prize.
"OH, COME ON!"
The dragon remained indifferent to her cries, flapping its wings and soaring farther away.
Grámtrist didn't seem to mind. Having scooped up a black whetstone, he looked at Thrúd with what appeared to be a sort of sick amusement, pleased that his adversary had lost the means to protect Mjolnir. He scraped it along his sword.
Watching the dragon fly in another circle, Thrúd gripped her hammer. "No you fucking don't," she growled before thrusting Mjolnir skyward, propelling her into the air moments before Grámtrist swung his sword in a wide arc. The resulting wave of magic crashed against the ground where Thrúd was standing moments before.
Thrúd left Grámtrist below her to deal with the remaining wave of enemies, only having eyes for the dragon who plucked her goal out of her grasp.
Remembering the sensation of flight from her adventure in Vanaheim, Thrúd propelled herself into the air with Mjolnir raised in front of her. The dragon had a few seconds head start, but Thrúd willed herself faster. She twisted her body accordingly to match its flight pattern until she was close enough to grab onto its tail.
The lightning around her body extinguished the moment she gripped one of its scales, gravity now doing its best to reclaim her. She placed the hammer back on her hip to use both hands to pull herself along the dragon's back.
Her arms began to burn in protest as she pulled, her legs flailing uselessly behind her. Finally, she reached the beast's back and was able to use her knees to crawl the next few feet. The dragon flapped its massive wings, its body spasming in protest of the uninvited hitchhiker. Thrúd kept her body low and rode out the undulations.
As soon as she felt the dragon level out, Thrúd wasted no time in rising to her feet and running forward. The dragon was doing its best to make her path as difficult as possible as it twisted its body left and right, trying to trip Thrúd on its scales. Thanks to her fast feet, Thrúd adjusted accordingly. She avoided and dodged the scales with the same ease and effort as if she were running through a forest.
Finally reaching the neck, Thrúd kept her momentum going as she jumped up and grabbed Mjolnir in both hands, grabbing it by its head and holding it upside down. "GIVE IT BACK!" She bellowed out, landing on top of its head and smashing the hammer on top of its skull.
Lightning flashed for a brief moment, leaving a smoking charred black mark on top. The dragon roared in anguish, its body dipping violently, forcing Thrúd to grab onto one of its horns. She wrapped her arms and legs around it like she was hugging a log and rode the rest of the way down.
Several futile flaps later, the dragon crashed to the ground, the force jarring Thrúd loose, sending her rolling to the side and leaving the dragon to crash into several boulders, smashing them all to pieces. Momentum spent, the dragon slid to a stop, eyes blinking as if it were in a room with the lights too bright, head shaking in confusion.
Rising to her feet, Thrúd ran to the massive jaws of the beast and forced them open, her strength amplified by the adrenaline from the ride she just took. Her heart sank for a moment when she didn't find the body of the Hel walker that snatched the whetstone.
It had been swallowed.
"Fuck!" She screamed, slamming the mouth shut as if she were closing the hatch to a basement. The dragon still hadn't regained its senses, squirming in a daze on the ground. Thrúd paced back and forth, scrambling for one desperate idea on how to retrieve the stone from the depths of the beast's belly.
Thankfully, she thought of one.
Wielding Mjolnir, Thrúd smashed it on the dragon's reptilian maw. It roared in protest with its mouth as wide as it could open, just as Thrúd wanted.
Thrúd threw Mjolnir inside the dragon's mouth and down its throat. Its roaring ceased immediately with the hammer now obstructing its windpipe. It coughed and squirmed in vain attempts to dislodge it, but Thrúd managed to maintain control of it as Mjolnir descended deeper into the dragon's body.
Hand outstretched to hold the connection between herself and Mjolnir, her eyes closed in concentration, Thrúd twitched her fingers this way and that, searching for any other foreign objects.
Her eyes snapped open as soon as she felt it, as if an invisible rope snapped taut. A fish caught at the end of a line.
Thrúd snapped her fingers and watched as the dragon twisted and contorted in discomfort, roaring as it felt not one, but two objects rising into its throat. Thrúd was undaunted as the dragon's mouth was forced open and Mjolnir flew out, tangled in a mess of knots of intestines and soaked in bile. It flew into her hand and the whetstone clattered to the ground at her feet.
Squirming in pain one last time, Thrúd watched the dragon become still, the light leaving its eyes before the eyelids closed, a string of intestines and organs splayed out of its mouth like snipped strings.
Thrúd looked at Mjolnir. "Ew." She shook off the fluids as best she could before placing it at her hip, wiping her hands off on her skirt.
Leaning down, she picked up the whetstone and held it up to examine it as if she couldn't believe it for herself that she was now holding it.
"Gotcha."
Her joy didn't last long.
With a thud, another wyvern clumsily landed next to the dragon's corpse, allowing its massive rider to depart.
As soon as his feet touched the ground, Grámtrist backhanded the wyvern, eliciting a screech of pain before it flew away. Grámtrist slowly turned around, letting Thrúd see the burlap bag that had been torn now shoddily repaired. A tight knot mended the loop, and the bag once again housed the other whetstones, all hanging against his side. His armor was splattered with different colors of blood, making him look like a walking, shiny canvas.
He aimed his (equally bloody) sword at Thrúd.
"Give it back."
Thrúd began to walk backwards, clutching the whetstone with one hand and her other protectively hovering over Mjolnir. She gulped. "Anytime now, Hugin," she whispered.
Seeing that she wasn't planning on cooperating, Grámtrist took out the black whetstone yet again, scraping it along his sword and engulfing it in the same spooky aura. He swung the sword.
The wave didn't make it halfway over to her before her vision was smothered with ravens swirling around her. Without even realizing it, Thrúd covered her face with both arms, tensing for the impact, turning the hammer away from it. Lowering them, she found herself in the middle of the swarm and let her body relax.
The swarm cleared and she found herself in Midgard, standing on the bridge of Týr's temple. She relaxed fully when she saw that Grámtrist was nowhere to be seen. As she stood and caught her breath, processing all that had just happened mere moments ago, she noticed several things almost at the same time about Midgard.
Firstly, it didn't carry the same chill as it had the last time she was there. There was still a cool breeze that carried over the realm, but it didn't have the same bite as before.
Secondly, the ice underneath the bridge was visibly breaking apart, allowing water to seep between the cracks and settle on top.
Midgard was warming back up.
A flutter of wings drew her attention to the side. Hugin perched himself atop the railings. "Congratulations!" His voice sounded in her head. "You're not dead!"
She ignored his signature sarcasm and walked closer. "You sure took your time!" She accused. "Did that errand really have to take that long?!"
"No. I was back after like three minutes. I saw everything over there. I wasn't gonna hop in the middle of all that, that would've been suicide! Besides," he motioned his beak at the whetstone, "you wouldn't have appreciated it if I took you away before you got what you wanted."
Seeing his point, Thrúd backed down. "Did you at least get it there alright?"
"I did. And for what it's worth," he paused, "I think she'll appreciate it."
He spoke truthfully.
In the realm of Niflheim, Sinmara still stood out on the balcony of her room, no longer filling the void with her tears of anguish. Instead, she gazed into the realm, not looking for anything in particular, but watching time pass in contentment.
Her peace was disturbed at the sound of wings fluttering on the other side of her bedroom door.
Turning in surprise, she looked to see if anybody was trying to come into her room. When nobody did, she walked inside and opened the door. Looking to both sides, she found no one on the other side. She wasn't sure what prompted her to do so, but she looked down at her feet and found a parcel wrapped up in a dirty piece of cloth.
She picked it up and placed it on her bed, opening the cloth.
Tears swam in her vision when she saw a familiar mallet inside. She struggled to make out the words written inside the cloth through her welled up eyes.
Something to remember him by. -T.T.
