I ended the call with Laci, arranging to meet with him later this evening. His words were fairly ominous, but the situation at home needed immediate attention.
"Iter, why are you back?" I rounded on the god, who was currently huddled with the elf near my refrigerator. The wild-haired elf had opened the doors for both the freezer and refrigerated sections and was sniffing the interior. Their long, beak-like nose was twitching like a rabbit's, and they rumbled something to themself that I couldn't hear.
"We said We would return, did We not?" Iter straightened and turned in my direction. Slight wrinkles formed in his perfect brow, before smoothing once more. "And here We are."
"What happened?" I pursued, not mollified. I strolled over to the refrigerator and pushed both doors shut, causing the elf to pull backward in alarm. I grabbed Iter by the arm and pulled him back toward the entrance to the front room. "Where did they," I nodded to Siarrálfr, "come from?"
"Are You well?" Iter peered closely at me. "The elf mentioned their origin within Vanaheim." A look of concern flashed across his features. "Is this a secondary effect from your battle, some form of mental attack?"
"No! What? No." I shook my head. "I mean, they're from another world, right? What're they doing here?"
Iter ceased his examination and met my gaze. "With the advent of a Magic item in this world, Our fellow Gods and Ourselves deemed further investigation was required," the god relayed with a look of seriousness. "We are attempting to track how the item entered your world. Gods are not the only entities with the capability to traverse between." The god paused meaningfully, but then a smile I assume was meant to be reassuring formed on his face. "The number of such individuals, though, is small. We are assured that the culprit will be apprehended in all haste."
"In the meantime," he continued, "We saw fit to arm Our Hero with knowledge to protect yourself. In this case, applied knowledge." He swept one arm in the elf's direction, who was busy now pawing through my utensil drawer. I saw them pull a pizza cutter from the collection, and turn it curiously with the pointed nail of a long, gnarled finger. The plastic and silicone instrument spun in silence.
"Intriguing. This material is lightweight, yet it holds an edge sharp enough for routine cutting. It is mineral, however, not some manner of tree?" Their sharp blue eyes looked up at me for confirmation.
"It's plastic." I replied. "Well, technically nylon and the handle is covered in silicone. I think?" I wrinkled my brow, momentarily distracted. "It's a petroleum product. I guess that means it's both mineral and biological?" I frowned.
The mass of hair around the elf's forehead pulled downward. "Unfamiliar terms. A processed material?" Their gaze turned to the tool, then back to the drawer.
"I don't actually know the details," I swiveled back to Iter, "They aren't staying here." I needed to set this straight right away.
"We would prefer… " Iter began to argue, when the elf closed the drawer with a slam, and turned fully in our direction.
"Indeed." They looked around the room with a judgmental eye. "Entirely unacceptable working space." With swift strides, the elf swept past Iter and me toward the front room and stopped in the middle. "[Primal Earth and Water] nodes, [geothermal] taps, proximate [ley line] junctions. These are necessary." The words were unfamiliar, but I sensed Translation working to provide appropriate alternates, accompanied by strange visions of underground environments juxtaposed with elemental forces. I didn't follow it well.
"Necessary for what?" I asked, concerned.
"Work," the elf replied succinctly, not turning. They were glaring down at the glass and metal coffee table as if dissecting it with his gaze.
"What kind of work?" I pressed.
Siarrálfr turned to look at me directly, surprise in their eyes. "The only work that lasts. A Smith, I am. I will create what you need, or mend what is broken." And for the first time I felt a fierce grin rising from beneath the dense brush of their beard. They held up an arm and smacked their bicep with a firm slap. "Or unmake things that need breaking."
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If anyone had told me I'd spend this afternoon going house-hunting for an elf, I'd have… on second thought, that sounds about right.
"So what are we looking for?" I asked from the driver's seat. Iter was in the passenger seat, with Siarrálfr in the rear. The sky had turned to overcast, and the interior of the car was chilly. Our breath was starting to fog the windows as I took out my phone and opened a map app. I zoomed out so that San Francisco was on the left, and Oakland and Alameda on the right, with the SF Bay in the middle, linked by the Bay Bridge.
"Somewhere off this bar of sand and silt," Siarrálfr's voice rumbled into my ear as they leaned forward between the seats to peer at my phone. "I require rock and stone beneath my feet. We are fortunate, however, that this land is blessed with [seismic activity] and power. That will be of aid in fueling my forge."
I'd gone very quickly from relief at hearing my home was not to gain a new resident, to horror at the thought of covering a second rent in the inflated housing market of the SF Bay Area. But it quickly became clear that Siarrálfr was not looking for a traditional home. "Something without structures. An unspoilt land would be preferred."
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"You mean you live outdoors? In the open?" I had looked at their unkempt appearance and briefly pictured them within a homeless encampment. It worked a little too well.
"No. Under it," they replied gruffly.
It seemed that the workshop they were looking for would be formed underground. I wasn't sure what they meant, but Siarrálfr assured me they were capable of creating the space they needed themselves, so long as they found an acceptable location. Picturing a major excavation, I almost put a halt to the whole thing, until they assured me the process would not be visible from the surface. Figuring I could keep an eye on them both and step in if things started to get out of hand, I acquiesced. Plus, I was wildly curious about how they would do it. Hence the car trip.
"Hmm, that means either east to the Oakland Hills, or maybe one of the hills in SF." I pondered the map with terrain mode on, Iter and Siarrálfr peering over my shoulder.
"Proximity to large bodies of water or underground aquifers would be ideal." The elf's nose quivered slightly as they leaned toward the screen, nearly blocking my view. The scent of metal and smoke that emanated from them stung my nose slightly. I hoped it wouldn't linger in my car.
"How about Bernal Heights? That's close to Kris' house. It might be good to be near one of us just in case." I set the location for Bernal Heights Park in the app, even though I knew the way. "Now buckle up, both of you. The cops won't accept immortality or supernatural origins as excuses, and I don't want a fat ticket."
Iter, who had traveled with me by car before, assisted Siarrálfr with the seat belt mechanism. After a moment of elfish surprise when I turned on the car, and a deluge of questions about internal combustion I couldn't answer, we began our trip.
Siarrálfr took to this form of travel quickly, less interested in the exterior scenery passing by than the operation of the vehicle itself. Once they discovered their host was woefully short of knowledge about the inner workings of the automobile, they sat back in their seat with their arms crossed. I glanced in the rearview mirror.
"You're not like the elves I'm used to," I broke the silence.
"Elves inhabit this world as well?" Bushy eyebrows rose in response.
'Well, no," I replied. "I was referring to stories and other works of fiction. They're taller, for one thing, and have pointed ears." I almost added, 'and less hair,' but thought that might be bordering on rude. "Though in some stories, they're small," I added, thinking of fairy tales like the elves and the shoemaker, or Santa's workshop.
"Pointed ears I have," they replied, pulling back their mane to reveal the tips of a fleshy point buried beneath. "However, a populous people we are not, nor are we uniform." Siarrálfr shrugged.
I turned onto 880 and headed north towards the Bay Bridge. Traffic was starting to pick up, but we still managed to move along at a good clip. We passed by downtown Oakland and its smattering of smallish towers and high-rise buildings. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the elf glowering at them, an expression I was rapidly recognizing as professional scrutiny.
"Do you do this often?" I asked. "Travel between worlds, I mean?" Apart from the modern architecture and machinery, the elf seemed remarkably unfazed by the circumstances. Even the presence of Iter seemed to be of minor note to them.
"I have not done so," they rumbled, their beard bristles twitching. "But I have provided my expertise to the gods and their heroes in ages past." Siarrálfr sat in silence after that, peering out the window as the waters of the bay came into sight. The quiet of the car was broken only by the repetitive clacking of tires against the sections of pavement on the freeway. I grasped about for a new topic to change the subject, when their voice suddenly burst forth again, like the shifting of tectonic plates. "My sibling was such a one, and departed upon the urging of a god to save another world. A shield I crafted to keep them safe." I saw them turn to face me in the mirror, their eyes alit with an intense fire that was sheltered but never faded. "They passed from knowing more than an age ago."
"How old are you?" I murmured, unable to keep the question from spilling out under the extremity of that burning emotion.
They held my gaze for a moment, then lowered their eyes once more. "I have never counted." They turned away as if disinterested. "What need we to track something so insignificant as years. That you younger folk waste what little time you have with this accounting, we find a morbid endeavor." A soft hrumph sounded within their whiskers. "We were created at the dawn of time. An elf will mark the ending when the last star has flamed out." At which they settled once more into silence.
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"Here we are," I announced, pulling along the side of the road at a spot near the park entrance. Luck had to be working overtime today.
The sun had just dipped below the overcast to scorch the undersides of the clouds with oranges and reds on its journey below the horizon. I unbuckled and exited the car, one of a few clustered near the pedestrian roadway that continued up the hill. A couple of bicyclists sailed past us, and I saw an older couple hiking their way further along.
Though not one of the recognized "Seven Hills" of San Francisco, Bernal Heights still offered a stunning panoramic view of the city and surrounding areas. The wind was quite brisk, and my coat fluttered around me. I stuck my hands deep in my pockets, as much as to keep my coat from blowing around as to keep them warm. While not visible, the air was heavy with a fine mist and the scent of water. I could feel the tip of my nose and cheeks rapidly chilling, and I was glad I'd grabbed my knit cap before I left. I pulled it further down over my ears, and turned to the other two.
Iter was back in his 'casual confidence' outfit, but he'd added a cream-colored cashmere scarf and matching cap. He looked like a model fresh off a location shoot. But looking at him in this weather just made me feel a sympathetic shiver. I'll remind him to add a jacket or something next time. Beside him, Siarrálfr looked almost feral in contrast, as the wind whipped their hair in all directions. They were looking around appraisingly, nodding slightly to themselves. Corralling them both, I led the way past the yellow metal gate, and up the path as it veered to the right alongside a metal guardrail.
"This will do," Siarrálfr pronounced after only hundred feet or so up the road. Their chest slowly expanded as they took in a great breath, and then knelt down to place their hands against the packed earth to the left of the path. In response, the soil beneath them began to roil like a boiling pot, before rising up and covering them entirely. My mouth was open to call out in surprise, when the ground subsided once more, rocks and silt settling and rippling like the surface of pond where a rock was dropped. Siarrálfr was gone.
"What the hell! Iter, where are they?" I swiftly looked around, spotting a few hikers chatting amicably behind us. Further ahead of us, a bicyclist was speeding down the path, their gaze fixed on the road before them. No one was making a fuss, or seemed like they'd just seen the ground reach up and swallow a person whole.
"Within the earth, it would seem," he replied, entirely at ease. "Their kind is at home in the more primal elements, and it seems the spirits here are answering their call. I suspect they are preparing the interior for their habitation." Iter looked at me, an impish grin on their face. "Would you like to see?"