All the warriors cheered as Einar threw Thorodd to the ground, sending the larger and older Viking to his back like so many of the others.

“Blast Odin and whatever rune you have,” the giant said between pants. “How you can overpower me like that… even when I have eight runes.”

“It’s not just strength. You’re depending too much on your size and power. I’m barely using most of my real potential and using yours against you.”

Dirt and sweat-covered warriors stood around the pair as Osvif called out information to them.

“Notice his hips when Einar came in close and pivoted. You can overcome size and strength that way!”

“Again,” the leader of them all said, taunting Thorodd with a wink.

Bending low and coming again, the taller one moved toward Einar, hands and arms spread wide as they sought a place to grab and hold the other.

Spinning and dancing, almost slaps and grabs came from each, looking for a moment when the chance to strike would come.

Thorrod’s hand snaked out and gripped Einar’s wrist, and the giant rushed forward, happily taking the other wrist, which was apparently left unguarded as well.

It was when Einar twisted his arms slightly, grabbed tightly at the larger man’s wrists, and rolled backward onto the ground, bringing his extended leg up and placing a foot into Thorodd’s stomach that the truth of who had who became evident.

A simple tomoe-nage throw sent the larger Viking catapulting over his head and landing against the dirt with a loud impact, and air left Thorodd’s lungs immediately.

Finishing the roll and rising to his feet, Einar moved a few steps away, never taking his eyes off his opponent.

A hand came up, and the second in command coughed.

“I… surrender.”

Laughter and applause rang out as Einar moved to help his friend up.

“As you see once more, something I have experienced too many times, there is much that can be done with using your opponent's momentum.”

Osvif continued his instruction as Einar slapped Thorodd’s back, wiping some of the caked-on dirt off.

“He’s a natural.”

After another cough, the giant nodded.

“You’re learning fast, Einar. Using him to build trust during these days. All while showing men the knowledge you possess and helping them.”

“Well, I did have a good teacher,” he replied.

“Everyone partner up! We’ll practice for ten minutes!” Osvif shouted. “Then it’s time to suffer under our glorious leaders training once again.”

Groans came as everyone started to wonder what they might be forced to do today. The previous three days have been a lesson in torture already.

***

“The portal looks beautiful,” Thorve said as she stood beside Avitue. “This is your first one?”

Nodding, the shield maiden smiled, eyes wide as she watched a world that seemed to be almost not there from this side.

Large mountains could be seen off in the distance on the other side of the portal.

“How do the wagons fit? I mean, it's only about ten feet tall and not wide enough for some of them.”

Chuckling, their healer shrugged.

“Magic? That is outside my realm. Now tell me while I have a moment alone with you, how goes the training of your wyrd?”

Frowning, Avitue shook her head.

“Slow… I had hoped after seeing Einar do what he does so easily, it would come faster. Yet it appears only he is gifted like he is. Somehow he has made leaps and bounds after Ragna showed him how to work on his ability with fire magic. Even Osvif learns faster.”

A hand appeared on the shield maiden’s shoulder, and Thorve smiled softly.

“Do not rush it. I would tell you that healing takes just as long. I’ve seen what you are accomplishing and Einar is right about how to use your magic for now.”

“Bah, a man telling me how to use wind magic! Seems so wrong!”

Each of them chuckled, ignoring the glances they got from everyone who was preparing to enter the portal in the coming hour.

“He is gifted and lucky to have you,” Thorve said. “Just as you are blessed by the gods to have him. I watch how he has changed with you around. He smiles a lot more, and your presence makes him more cautious. Two things he needed last time.”

“How was Alfheim? Just like all the stories?”

Thorve saw the look in the shield maiden's eyes. They were filled with hope and excitement, and they had a slight sparkle to them.

“Oh, I’m not sure how to describe it beyond magic. If Odin willed it and I could stay there forever, I would. The elves… they… have a quality about them that is soothing. Harmony. Even amidst all the problems they are facing or were facing, they worked as one.”

“If only we did that,” grumbled Avitue. “Imagine if all of Midgard was united as one.”

Stolen story; please report.

“One day, perhaps. Until then, I will help Einar and you do what we all know must be done.”

Avitue reached out and turned the healer, grabbed her head with both hands, bent it down, and kissed her forehead.

“I am grateful to you and to Eir for giving such a wise woman.”

Laughing, Thorve shook her head once it had been let go.

“Perhaps you should wait and ask your husband about that. He will tell you I’m a thorn in his side as my pessimistic personality and mind come out too often.”

Laughing, Avitue winked.

“That is because we are women. We only have one head to think with.”

***

Dust rose from the caravan, and Einar frowned as he stared at the mountains, which were about two days away, and saw where the road led.

“No real trees,” Thorodd stated. “It’s like someone cleared them all out for a few miles.”

“Yup. Tell me, is that map right? There is a dwarven outpost a day away?”

“As long as it's still there, then yeah. The outpost, and then we have to cross a trail through the mountains, and then once through, we will find a town.”

Both men glanced at the map as the sound of hooves coming up behind them got louder.

“Everyone is through!” Hallad shouted. “We’re ready to move when you are.”

Looking up at the sky and the two suns that baked the soil, turning it hard and brittle, Einar nodded.

“We move in five. No horns, keep everyone quiet, and have their weapons ready.”

“Do you want the ballista ready?”

Shaking his head, Einar scratched his chin and the stubble on it.

“No… I’d rather keep it hidden and tied down. I’m not certain how smart a giant might be, but if it knew we had a weapon that might hurt it, who knows how that would change things.”

As their warrior rode off, Thorodd pointed at the capital on the old map Bior had given them.

“Is this really in a mountain?”

“From what I’ve learned, yes. Part of me wonders what this trip is going to be like.”

“Odin hasn’t spoken to you in a while?”

Rolling his eyes, Einar shook his head and moved to his horse.

“No, he’s been busy managing all the realms, I guess, and hasn’t had time to drop by for a drink.”

His friend chuckled and rolled up the map.

“Well, tell him to stop by and see me next time he does.”

***

“What the hell are those?” Osvif asked as the six hulking brutes moved toward them.

Each one was over seven feet tall and wider than a horse. They wore chain armor and carried large axes or hammers.

“Dwarves?” Einar said. “I mean… they look like dwarves.”

Large beards hung down across their chests, and braided hair was easily seen from fifty yards away as he, Osvif, Skardi, Avitue, and Thorve walked down the road ahead of the caravan.

“The dwarves I saw in Katanes were just about five feet… those are bigger than Skardi.”

“Bah, I can still take them,” muttered the tallest one present.

“You Vikings are fools,” Thorve said with a groan. “Those are dwarves! We are in their realm and here, they are not short like they are in Midgard.”

“Seriously?” Osvif asked. “They shrink in Midgard?”

Sighing, their healer nodded.

“When a dwarf leaves their realm, the magic that is here partially leaves them. So much of it is not understood, but even the gods come here for help with crafting. There are multiple forges. As you know, dwarves like Brokkr and Sindri crafted in Svartalfheim instead of Nidavellir. Now then, be quiet we are almost upon them.”

One of the dwarves, about eight feet tall, moved a few steps ahead of the others. His black hair was darker than night, and his brown eyes locked onto the group. A frown was visible under his facial hair.

“Vikings… why are you here?”

“We’ve come to assist the dwarves with the problems plaguing your realm,” Einar replied, slightly bowing. “Odin has–”

“We do not need your help. For years, you Vikings have made it clear we are not welcome in your realm.”

“For that slight, I ask forgiveness,” Eanir said with a sigh. “Not everyone feels the same way in our realm, as I am certain not all dwarves feel the same about which ale is the best or how one's beard should be washed.”

A few chuckles came from the dwarves in the back before a grunt from the one who was clearly in charge silenced them.

“A son of Loki, perhaps? That tongue is dangerous, and yet you know the words that would cause most of my brothers and sisters to spend hours in debate.”

The bottom and top lip began to move as the dwarf appeared to be thinking.

“I am Einar Sibbison, and we have returned from Alfheim after meeting with the King and Queen and–”

“You are that one!?”

The tone in the dwarf’s voice had changed, no longer gruff but a bit in shock.

“I am.”

Huffing, he nodded.

“I am called Scrombles Proudhelm. Perhaps if you are the one we have heard of, there may be a few things our realm could use your help with.”

“We would be honored to assist our friends, the dwarves,” Einar replied, bending his neck slightly. “Part of our trip is to help slow the coming of Ragnarok and give aid to our allies while also seeking trade and items to help get stronger. In the coming days, we must enter the darker realms and defeat that which is growing.”

A loud harrumph came from a brown-headed dwarf, and Scrombles turned and shook his head.

“Forgive her, Bartia does not believe in Ragnarok.”

“That’s because its a load of giant shit, designed to keep us–”

Scrombles moved quicker than his size would believe was possible and his hand snaked forward, grabbing the brown beard of the woman who was speaking.

“Do not insult me or our guests. Continue this and I will ensure you find yourself assigned to a less pleasant task.”

Unable to see what was taking place behind the large body that blocked the confrontation, no other words came, and the leader of this group turned around, giving a slight bow.

“Forgive her. She is still young, only two hundred years or so and has not learned to keep her tongue safe inside her mouth.”

“Two hundred years?!” Skardi exclaimed quietly.

Laughing, Scrombles nodded.

“Yes… I forgot you, Vikings, do not know the true age of some things. Only living perhaps a hundred and thirty or so at best. Now then, it appears you have many wagons and warriors, and we should move to the fort.”

“We would be honored to stay and experience the warmth of your hearth.”

A large hand, bigger than any he had ever seen, was outstretched before him and Einar quickly took it and shook it.

“Someone has trained you well, Viking Einar. I look forward to hearing from you how one so young that less hair than I have on my toes is present on your chin has so much knowledge.”

“That… is a good story and one I look forward to sharing over a warm fire and a mug of ale.”

Laughing even louder, Scrombles turned slightly.

“Bartia, return quickly inside and inform the cook we will have company. Prepare a little meat in the stew and bring two casks. And yes, before you ask,” he said, holding a hand and cutting off the woman as her mouth opened, “I will cover the cost of the ale.”

Without waiting, she took off running, her large mass and the giant axe on her back shaking with each step.

“Now then, tell me who you have beside you as we return to my hearth.”

Smiling, Einar nodded.

I will owe Arngrim a ton if all his help actually pays off.