Chapter Text
As much fun as it was to actually save the villagers from a band of bloodthirsty bandits that had been terrorizing the area recently, Thor had to admit that the celebration afterwards was just as fun. The friendly villagers were eager to show off their gratitude and seemed determined to throw the greatest celebration ever seen on Gunderhelm.
There were two main people of the small protectorate planet. The ones that Asgard had the most communication with were the Hulders who dwelled in the valleys, lowlands, and forests of their world. In appearance, they seemed similar in appearance to particularly slender and delicate Asgardians at first glance. Dressed in grey, with black hair, and every single one of them incredibly beautiful. Unless one decided to invite someone to share their bed, it was easy to miss their dark cattle-like tail barely visible beneath their clothes. Though Thor was certain that Fandral would happily describe in full detail if those tails made a difference to the experience; his friend was already charming a few of the gorgeous maidens.
Their villages were partially hidden in the form of turf houses and other half-buried structures, though they were quick to bring out the furniture outside for their large celebration for their heroes. Their chief gave a grand speech, praising their heroics. A bonfire crackled and popped as the warm light flickered across the village square. There was a delicious and mouthwatering feast, the food abundant enough to sate even Volstagg as he gorged himself. Music filled the air as everyone laughed and sang. Eager audiences gathered around to listen to stories and share their own. Children ran through the crowd, playing games. Several young Huldra maidens spent the evening draping themselves across Fandral and trying to do the same with Hogun. Even Sif seemed to be enjoying herself.
Mead was shared freely as the evening continued. Details seemed to blur and fade, alcohol softening the edges of everything. And no one seemed interested in moderation. Not even Loki, already singing after a few drinks. The bright and festive mood showed no sign of slowing. Every time that they passed around the mead, Thor drank deeply and praised their brewing skill.
But there was a price to pay for having such a good time. And not remembering how he ended up there, Thor found himself waking up on the ground. His face pressed into the dirt as his head threatened to split open. His mouth tasted like something had replaced his tongue and died there.
He knew in theory what a hangover was, but it was not a common occurrence. Asgardians were known for their ability to hold their own when it came to drinking and even the most potent mead that Tyr’s family had ever produced took a great deal to bring a warrior down. Thor knew he must have drank far more than ever before or else the Hulders were especially skilled in brewing. He should speak to Father about trading for their mead.
He probably should have stopped drinking before he reached the point of passing out. But he had a good time and they’d earned those festivities with a glorious battle with those bandits. Besides, the best way to know his limits was to test them. And they’d certainly tested their limits the night before.
It was a fun celebration and the hangover was proving to be equally impressive.
Thor bit back a groan as he pushed himself upright. And almost hit his head on the table that he was under. As he crawled out, he found Volstagg napping on top of the table. He seemed to be hugging a half-eaten pheasant to his chest in his sleep. Hogun was still in his chair as he dozed. Sif and Fandral apparently managed to drag themselves off somewhere with an actual bed, but latter most likely not alone. He almost thought that Loki was gone, but he spotted something green on the far side of Volstagg. His brother’s head was resting on the table as he slept in his chair.
His priority was finding something to eat and drink. A proper meal might help with the hangover. And after everyone was awake and fed, they would have to return to Asgard. They needed to bring word of their victory.
Yawning and scratching his beard, Thor looked around the village square. He knew that he must have left Mjolnir nearby. Father always told him that he should always keep his weapon close. But at first glance, he didn’t see his hammer. That didn’t immediately concern him though. It was very difficult to actually lose a weapon that always returned to its owner. Thor held out his hand and mentally called for Mjolnir.
Except nothing arrived.
Thor could only stare at his empty hand as surprise and confusion brushed aside his remaining drowsiness. He didn’t even hear it smashing through obstacles or the faint ringing of uru flying through the air. There was no sign of the weapon responding at all. And Mjolnir always responded. Ever since Father gave it to him.
Groaning, Loki began to stir and push himself upright. Thor would have normally teased his brother about being such a lightweight, carefully ignoring that he’d also drank more than he should have, but he was focused on far graver matters. His missing hammer was much more important than Loki.
Thor’s eyes scanned the ground as he tried to mentally retrace his foggy memories of the night before. As if he would simply stumble upon Mjolnir sitting somewhere and merely deciding not to respond when summoned. But he couldn’t think of anything else to try. The idea of the hammer not returning to him was inconceivable. It had never occurred to him as a possibility.
“What did they put in the mead?” asked Loki, his voice still a little blearily.
“Alcohol,” answered Thor distractedly.
Glaring, he said, “We’ve both been to enough feasts to know it shouldn’t hit us that hard.”
Thor tried to ignore his brother’s comment. Mostly because he didn’t have the time or patience to respond. He had to find Mjolnir.
“Another fine day dawns, does it not, Prince Thor?” greeted Chief Aurvandill, stepping out of the closest turf house. “Especially with those bandits no longer a threat.”
“Always happy to help the protectorates of Asgard,” reassured Thor, knowing that there were certain expectations and he couldn’t be rude him. “And we appreciate your generous demonstration of gratitude. It was a wonderful celebration.”
“Only the best for our heroes,” said Aurvandill.
Nodding, he continued, “But I don’t suppose you have seen my hammer this morning, have you?”
Something odd flickered across his face. A brief flash and it was gone. Thor almost missed it completely, but Loki’s head snapped around with a suspicious glare.
“You’re hiding something,” said Loki. “You know something. You’ve done something.”
Thor almost told his brother to hold his tongue and stop insulting the man. Loki’s bad behavior would reflect on him. Except there was a sharp flinch of guilt. And that was enough for his own suspicions to start growing and festering. Thor took a step forward towards the chief. He didn’t have Mjolnir to threaten the man, but Hulders tended to be slender and delicate. The height and build that came with reaching manhood meant that he could use his mere size as a form of intimidation in the hammer’s absence.
“Tell me what you have done,” commanded Thor sharply.
Taking a couple of steps back, Aurvandill said, “We would never allow you or your friends to be harmed. You defeated those bandits and you are our guests. We would never betray the responsibilities of our hospitality by allowing any true harm to befall you.”
“What is going on?” asked Hogun, apparently awake enough to come up to stand beside Thor and join the interrogation.
The grim glares of three Asgardians were enough to make the Hulder cringe and drop his gaze. He swallowed hard as fidgeted with his hands.
“My apologies, Prince Thor,” he said quietly. “We have treaties in place. But if it is something that is not too high of a price, it is best to give them what they ask. We do not want to test the limits of their patience with those treaties. Not unless we must.”
“Who?’ asked Thor. “And what did they ask? Speak plainly.”
Gesturing past the forest towards the mountain, Aurvandill said, “The Rock Trolls. King Thrym came while you hunted for the bandits and demanded that we give them something that could give him and his people leverage over Asgard. We refused to allow them to claim any of you as hostages. We would not allow harm to come to those we’ve offered hospitality. But ensuring that you slept heavily through the night and offering instead an enchanted weapon of great power was enough to satisfy them. They left without causing any harm.”
“Rock Trolls?” Fury quietly burned within him as Thor tried to comprehend it all. “You stole Mjolnir and gave it to Rock Trolls?”
“Only temporarily, Prince Thor. King Thrym will want to trade it back. Your hammer may be a mighty weapon, but he seems to have a far greater prize in mind. Ask him what he wants in exchange and Mjolnir will be returned to you,” he said. “Is that not better than risking lives?”
Thor knew that the right answer would be that people’s lives should always come first. He could almost imagine his mother telling him that the chief made the right decision for his people. But he couldn’t seem to completely smother his anger. Mjolnir was how he channeled his power, allowing him to control lightning bolts and hurtle himself through the air. Losing it was like losing a limb. Thor needed it back now.
“Where do we find King Thrym?” asked Loki tiredly.
Turning towards the younger prince, Aurvandill said, “He said that he would be at the Glade of Crystals to discuss the terms of the exchange. If you wish to retrieve the hammer, that is where you must go.”
“If you and the others would return to Asgard, I could go see what he wants in exchange,” he said slowly. “And I can see if stealing Mjolnir back would be possible. Depending on how well he is guarding the hammer, it could be simple.”
Nodding slowly with consideration, Thor said, “That could work. But be careful. He’s somehow keeping Mjolnir from returning to me. That is not an easy trick.”
“Most likely it is some form of magic. Give me a chance to figure out how he’s doing it and how to get around the problem.” Glancing around the village briefly, Loki said, “The rest of you should hurry back to Asgard before people begin wondering what is taking us so long. Tell them nothing about this matter. I’ll catch up to you there with answers and hopefully Mjolnir.”
And with those parting remarks, Loki took to the air in the form of a falcon. A few strong flaps of his wings sent him over the treetops and out of sight. Headed towards the Glade of Crystals, no doubt.
Stumbling out of another turf house with a mildly disheveled Huldra on his arm, Fandral said, “That was an unforgettable evening that I am struggling to remember. What did I miss?”
Crystals protruding from the ground was not exactly a rare sight on Gunderhelm. It was more common in the more mountainous regions than in the forests where the Hulder dwelled. But there was a thick cluster of green and blue crystals erupting all around a clearing, giving the glade its name. But even then, there was plenty of empty space with minimal area to hide anything. Loki circled it a few times to make certain that he hadn’t missed anything important.
There was a trio of Rock Trolls. Despite them standing about a fot taller than most Asgardians, they weren’t quite as large as Frost Giants. And yet despite their height, they gave off the impression of being stocky and solidly built. There was something ill-proportioned about them, shoulders bulky and arms too long. The trolls were covered in thick body hair that didn’t quite conceal their ruddy orange skin tone. And while two only wore loincloths, one also wore a breastplate and a dark crown of braided metal. It was fairly easy to figure out which of them was King Thrym.
Loki didn’t see more than three Rock Trolls. Even letting his magic investigate the immediate area, he didn’t detect any illusions hiding other trolls. It should have been fairly simple to get around them. Except he didn’t see Mjolnir. All he saw was King Thrym sitting on a mound with a smug grin, waiting with all the patience and dignity of Odin in his throne room.
He couldn’t simply grab the hammer and escape with it. He would need more information. And the first step would be to find out more about King Thrym, about how clever and intelligent he might be, and what he might desire. Not to mention what he’d done with Mjolnir. But Loki could figure this out. He could retrieve Thor’s hammer.
He landed just out of sight behind the tree line to return to his normal shape. There was no reason to let King Thrym know that he could shapeshift if he didn’t already know. Brushing off his clothes briefly, Loki stepped into the glade with a bored and unconcerned expression. He didn’t even dignify the other trolls with a glance as he approached their king.
“King Thrym of Gunderhelm,” he greeted politely, “ruler of the Rock Trolls. I am Loki Odinson. Prince of Asgard. The chief of the local Hulder village advised me that I should seek your council concerning a grave matter that occurred while we were in your lands, fulfilling our responsibility towards Gunderhelm as a protectorate of Asgard. He believed that you would be able to assist me in straightening out this minor problem.”
“Asgard coming to me for help? What a grand surprise,” said Thrym, his voice deep and booming. “And what matters bring you here to me?”
“My brother, Crown Prince of Asgard, cannot seem to locate his hammer. Mjolnir was enchanted to always return to his hand, so it seems strange for his weapon to be lost. Perhaps you know what might be responsible for stopping his hammer from returning to its rightful owner?”
Grinning so that his sharp teeth were visible, he said, “I suppose that if someone used magic to trap an enchanted weapon solidly in the crystal and stone, buried deeply enough to meld into the very bedrock until they were nearly one and the same, that magic might be enough to keep it in place. I have magic capable of such feats. I might even be able to locate the hammer and return it.”
“But I predict that your generosity comes at a price,” said Loki. “What do you ask for in exchange for your help?”
Straightening up and bracing his taloned hands on his thighs as he stared down at Loki, Thrym said, “A simple exchange. The Crown Prince of Asgard will receive his prized weapon and reclaim his full might. But first, nine days hence, I will have a wedding. If you ensure that my chosen bride is standing before me in nine days, the hammer will be retrieved.”
“And who is your chosen bride?” he asked, feeling uncomfortable with how familiar it felt.
“One worthy of a king. Tales of her fair-haired beauty have reached even the deepest tunnels and caverns beneath Gunderhelm. They claim that she shines like the crystals of our world.” He gestured towards the green and blue prisms jutting from the ground. “I could have any Rock Troll or Huldra on Gunderhelm that I might wish, but I have higher aspirations than that. The bride that I demand in exchange for Mjolnir is Lady Freyja Njorddottir of Asgard.”
Loki closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, trying not to scream. Again? Another case of someone trying to bargain for Freyja’s hand in marriage. History could not be repeating so soon. The last time ended very badly for him.
“This seems like a great deal of trouble to marry someone that you do not know and have never met,” he said, his voice sounding faint and distant in his ears. “Perhaps you would be more satisfied with a different payment in exchange?”
Shaking his head, Thrym said, “I lack neither gold nor jewels. I desire a bride. And I will not settle for anything less than the finest in the Nine Realms to share my bed and birth my sons. Lady Freyja will be here in nine days to marry me or Prince Thor will never reclaim his hammer. No one else will be able to find where it was hidden or be able to retrieve the weapon. Take these terms back to Asgard and my trolls will begin preparations for the wedding.”
“I will relay the message,” he said dully.
Loki turned and walked away as calmly as he could manage. Ignoring the phantom scent of stallion or the memory of galloping hooves that had abruptly returned to haunt him.
As soon as the Bifrost deposited him back on Asgard, the mechanics still quieting down, Loki was immediately faced with a rather frantic and agitated Thor. His reaction was relatively understandable, if he was feeling generous. It was probably the worse experience of his brother’s entire life, losing his ability to easily wield his power. He’d never been effective at it without Mjolnir and Loki certainly wouldn’t want to lose access to his seidr or shapeshifting. Granted, the fact that Thor had never experienced anything worse than losing his prized weapon while Loki had paid far steeper prices for the good of Asgard was frustrating. But he didn’t hate his brother enough to wish for him to have his lips sewn shut or to have an intimate encounter with an oversized stallion.
“Where is Mjolnir?” asked Thor sharply. “You were meant to steal it back.”
“I said that I would if I was able. But it wasn’t possible. King Thrym has used magic to trap it within the very stone of that world. That was why you could not summon it.”
“Then use your magic, Loki. I thought you were supposed to be talented with your seidr.”
Glaring, he snapped back, “That does not mean that I know every spell used throughout the Nine Realms. Even if I could scry exactly where in the entire bedrock of Gunderhelm that he’s embedded Mjolnir, that doesn’t mean that I have the knowledge to undo his methods of trapping it. But you are welcome to try digging it up yourself.”
Thor’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. He eventually snarled in frustration and stomped away to start pacing. Loki took a moment to glance around the rest of Himinbjorg while his brother growled nonsense under his breath. Sif and the Warriors Three were already gone, most likely at Thor’s insistence. Fewer witnesses to his regarding the loss of his weapon. The only one there to observe their conversation was Heimdall and it was nearly impossible to keep a secret from him regardless.
When he eventually turned back towards Loki, Thor said, “Fine. What are his terms? What does he want?”
“He demands that Lady Freyja stand before him in nine days to marry him.”
Blinking in surprise, Thor looked just as speechless as before. He clearly remembered what happened with Hallmund and the construction project. That entire situation was too memorable for anyone to forget. It honestly seemed like a lot of trouble for a woman who was old enough to be their mother. And yet this was the second person in less than two centuries to go to such lengths to bargain for her hand in marriage.
“Well,” said Thor slowly, “I suppose that we could ask if she is interested in such a marriage, could we not? It would be to a king, after all. Many women would consider that to be a desirable marriage.”
Staring at him in utter disbelief, Loki asked, “Do you honestly think that she would agree to marrying a troll? Lady Freyja would likely join her daughters in treason by killing you for even considering the possibility.”
“She wouldn’t dare.”
“Thor, you did not see her reaction when the bargain with Hallmund nearly worked in his favor. She was on the verge of following in the footsteps of Amora and Lorelei. There were threats. And that was from an attempt to force her to wed an Asgardian. She will kill you, brother. Freyja will murder you, Mother will likely kill her in retaliation, Father will likely blame me for not stopping you, and the loss of Mjolnir will no longer be of any concern.”
“Then what do you suggest?” asked Thor.
Hands tucked behind his back as he took a step forward to join the conversation finally, Heimdall said, “If you do not have a different plan, I might have a possible way to retrieve Mjolnir without offering Lady Freyja over to King Thrym. Though it will take a great deal of courage, resolve, and humility to achieve.”
Thor straightened at his words. Meeting the man’s gaze firmly as he tried to look prepared for any challenge. His hand went to his side where his hammer should have been before letting his fingers curl uselessly into a frustrated fist.
“Whatever it might take to reclaim Mjolnir from those trolls,” he said firmly, “I will face it. I fear no challenge.”
There was a gleam in Heimdall’s golden eyes that caught Loki’s attention. If he didn’t know better, he would almost think that Heimdall seemed amused. And perhaps feeling a little mischievous. That was more than enough to make Loki deeply curious about his plan.