Trapped

for the timely heads-up, « she wheezed. We then had to spend a few moments apologizing to our hosts for our terrible manners.
    After dinner was finished and we had showered Fjalar with another round of compliments and thanks, he cleared away the dishes and brought us cups of Irish coffee.
    » Many thanks, Fjalar, « I said. » You’ve researched your guests’ preferences well. «
    » Glad I am that I could so satiate you, for I have a tale long in the telling to share, if your leisure serves. «
    » No doubt this has something to do with Loki, « I said.
    The dwarf nodded. » It does. «
    » We know some of it, « I said. » We saved Perun from Loki in Arizona. «
    Frigg’s brows rose in surprise, and so did the impressive hedgerows above Fjalar’s eyes.
    » Perun lives? « Frigg asked.
    » Aye, but his realm is indeed destroyed. He is now a guest of the Tuatha Dé Danann. «
    Frigg leaned closer. » Did he say why Loki pursued him? «
    » He said Loki had wanted to kill Thor, and since that option had been taken away from him, Perun would have to do. «
    Frigg made no comment but shook her head to communicate her disapproval. Fjalar turned to her. » Then why in the nine realms did he come to us, fire-wreathed, rash, and wanton, screaming after someone named Eldhár? «
    › Atticus, wait! SHUT UP! ‹
    » Um, that would be my fault, « I said.
    › Damn it, you never listen! ‹
    » Your fault? « Fjalar said. His eyes widened. » You sent Loki Truthslayer to Nidavellir? «
    › Clever Girl, quick! Choke him! ‹
    Granuaile twitched but didn’t follow through. » I’m afraid so, « I said. » Sorry. «
    › Auugh! Is the dwarf ever going to make tasty nom-noms for us again? NO. You’ve ruined everything! ‹
    » You are responsible! « Fjalar began to rise from the table and Frigg placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.
    » Fjalar, he is our guest, « Frigg said.
    » He is our enemy! « the dwarf roared. Despite her attempt to make him sit, he rose, pointing at me. » Thoughtless tongue of a tiny mind! Seven times seven hundred Shield Brothers dead— «
    » What? « I said.
    » Have patience, you see he is unaware! « Frigg said. » He could not have known what Loki and Hel would do. «
    » What did they do? « I asked. » Fjalar, please, I do not know what happened. Tell me what they did. «
    The dwarf glared at me, his fingers itching for an axe. Frigg never removed her hand from his shoulder. He took several deep breaths, his chin mottled with blood-lust, until he finally mustered the will to take his seat calmly.
    » I suppose it is meet and proper, « he said, » that you should hear first why I mourn, beardless and braided. And then your woman and hound will know I have just cause, am truly honor-bound, to cut you down. «
    Oberon growled at his words.
    Stop that this instant!
    » Please, « I said to him. » Say on. «
    Perhaps if we had warning, horns sounded with alarm, we could have mustered a stronger defense, offered tapestries of wards and fire-tested stone. As it was, our defense faltered, heat-ravaged, and our stone doors melted, slagged to ruin by the sulfur breath of volcanoes, Loki’s fury unchained. Nidavellir opened to him, he gave vent to his spleen, gall and bitterness churning in his eyes, madness made plain, spewing the venom he had choked down for so long in his bondage, deep in the darkness of that sepulchral cave. Our guards he set aflame and then bellowed above their screaming, demanding that we produce the wretched construct, dwarf-crafted, known as Eldhár. He paused for our answer, and we bore him honest tidings that nothing did we know of such a construct, but this he refused to believe, heart hardened against the truth, he who trades in lies like the winds trade in rumors of storms. Awash in fire, orange and yellow, he shot through tunnels and the noble caverns of Nidavellir, ancient dwarf-home, solid sanctuary until that day. Deeper and deeper he delved, past our cities and into rough-hewn mines, and even past these until he burned the raw, untouched rock, the virgin flesh of the earth. We lost him somewhere in the dark, his flames extinguished, his shrill demands for Eldhár fallen silent, grave-still, not even a whisper of misplaced anger in the abyss.
    Then we wondered, and we sent out queries to Asgard, Vanaheim, and elsewhere: How had Loki won free? Was Ragnarok begun? Who was Eldhár? There are many dwarfs who hold that name, but none of the king’s smiths had