Bab 98: Chapter 95: The floor has a name
(Percy POV)
I found myself on a dark street on a cold, cloudy night. Three-storey terraced clapboard houses edged the sidewalk. At the end of the block, a tavern's grimy windows glowed with neon drink signs.
I blinked a few times, one moment I was talking to Freya, next moment Poof You are suddenly transported to, what's it called?
"This is Southie," Magnus said looking around. "Around D Street."
Blitzen shook his head. "This is Nidavellir, kid. It looks like South Boston … or rather, South Boston looks like it. I told you, Boston is the nexus. The Nine Worlds blend together
there and affect one another. Southie has a definite dwarvish feeling to it."
"I thought dwarf world would be underground, like Moria or something." I murmured.
"It's not called Dwarf world. Nivaldir and for being underground." Blitzen pointed up. "that's a cavern ceiling above your head. It's just a long way up and hidden by air pollution. We don't have daytime here. It's this dark all the time."
I stared up and felt myself getting claustrophobic, which was not something I experienced a lot, but after Tartarus and its eternal cave this place gave me the chills.
The air here felt dark and heavy, everything looked gritty, perpetually cold and gloomy.
Blitz wrapped his pith helmet in its dark netting. The whole thing collapsed into a small black handkerchief, which he tucked into his coat pocket.
"We should get going."
"Wait, what happened at Volkswagen?" Magnus wondered.
"Doesn't matter," Blitzen said. "We retrieve Odin's weapon and the replacement for Gleipnir and get out of here."
He said it with a tone that told us not to ask questions.
While we followed Blitzen I decided to play detective and investigated some leads I had.
'Chaos, where's the spear?' I asked giving my best smile, hoping she would coöperate.
'I don't know, I'm not Google.' Chaos said sounding not interested in at all.
'Come on, you said you knew everything.'
'She doesn't know everything.' Lyssa said with a smug smile, 'Trust me if she would….'
Lyssa chuckled evilly, which made me feel uncomfortable. It's always a bad sign if the voices in your head begin to act like a villain.
'So you don't know where the spear is?' I asked.
Chaos shook her head, 'Nope. My powers are extremely limited being you and so on. But I'm sure it's nothing important.'
'Nothing important?' I asked, 'Isn't it like, I don't know, one of the world's most powerful weapons?'
'Yeah,' Lyssa argued, 'like Zeus' lightning bolt, Thor's hammer, Sumarbrander, also don't forget about Hades' helmet twice. Gods really lose their symbols of power so easily.'
'What is your symbol of power?'
'Oh, it's a super sword. Every wound inflicted by the sword will drive the victim mad.' Lyssa said, 'But it works as a toothpick too.'
'Ever lost it?' I asked, ignoring her comment about it being an excellent toothpick.
'Nope, I always keep it really close.' Lyssa said proud, 'In fact. I have it lying around somewhere in your head.'
'I hope you are joking.'
"Percy!" Magnus said and he snapped his fingers a few time.
"What?" I asked annoyed.
"Stop daydreaming, we reached Nabbi's Tavern."
He pointed to the bar on the corner.
Nabbi's restored my faith in dwarves, because it was in fact a claustrophobic tunnel.
The ceiling was a low-clearance hazard. The walls were papered with old fight posters like DONNER THE DESTROYER VS. MINI-MURDERER, ONE NIGHT ONLY! featuring pictures of muscular, snarling dwarves in wrestling masks.
Mismatched tables and chairs were occupied by a dozen mismatched dwarves – some svartalfs like Blitzen who could easily have passed for human, some much shorter guys who could have easily passed for garden gnomes. A few of the patrons glanced at us, but nobody seemed shocked that Magnus and I were humans … if they even realized.
'We come in peace!' Lyssa yelled in my head, thinking that the dwarves could hear her.
"Stop it." I demanded.
'Killjoy."
As we made our way towards the bar, I realized that the furniture wasn't just mismatched. Every single table and chair was unique – apparently handcrafted from various metals, with different designs and
upholstery. One table was shaped like a bronze wagon wheel with a glass top. Another had a tin and brass chessboard hammered into the surface. Some chairs had wheels. Others had adjustable booster seats. Some had massage controls or propellers on the back. Over by the left wall, three dwarves were playing darts. The board's rings rotated and blew steam. One dwarf tossed his dart, which buzzed towards the target like a tiny drone. While it was still in flight, another dwarf took a shot. His dart rocketed towards the drone dart and exploded, knocking it out of the air. The first dwarf just grunted. 'Nice shot.' Finally we reached the polished oak bar, where Nabbi himself was waiting. I could tell who he was because of my highly trained deductive mind, and also because his stained yellow apron read: HI! I'M NABBI.
I thought he was the tallest dwarf I'd met so far until I realized he was standing on a catwalk behind the counter. Nabbi was actually only two feet tall, including the shock of black hair that stuck up from his scalp like a sea urchin. His clean-shaven face made me appreciate why dwarves wear beards. Without one, Nabbi was gods-awful ugly. He had no chin to speak of.
His mouth puckered sourly.
He scowled at us like we'd tracked in mud.
"Greetings, Blitzen, son of Freya," he said. "No explosions in my bar this time, I hope?"
Blitzen bowed. "Greetings, Nabbi, son of Loretta. To be fair, I wasn't the one who brought the grenades."
Nabbi glared at us, "And who are those two?"
Blitzen waved at Magnus, "This is my friend Magnus, son of-"
Magnus blinked a few times, then he realized it. "Son of Nathalie."
"I am Percy, Son of Sally." I said.
This was really refreshing, I always had to introduce myself as "the son of Poseidon" but apparently in Nivaldir it was the opposite.
'I am Lyssa, daughter of Nyx.'
Nabbi nodded to me. His bushy eyebrows were fascinating. They seemed to move like live caterpillars.
I reached for a bar stool, but Blitzen stopped me. "Nabbi," he said formally, "may my friend use this stool? What is its name and history?"
"That's Assjack, crafted by Bilbo, it survived the great chair genocide of 4000am."
I blinked a few times, I didn't want to know this kind of stuff, in fact I almost offered to sit on the floor (which would mean eye height for the dwarves) but I was afraid the floor had a name too.
This went on for a couple times, every chair had a long boring name and history, same for the cups.
After finally getting some mead Blitzen said. "Nabbi … we need to speak with Junior."
A vein throbbed in Nabbi's left temple. "Do you have a death wish?"
"We're on a quest for Freya," I said. I saw that dropping the name Freya had the desired effect. Nabby's eyeball twitched and immediately he was acting all nervous.
"I'll make the call. Enjoy your drinks." He climbed off his catwalk and disappeared into the kitchen.
'What does AM means?' I asked Chaos while Magnus was firing questions at Blitzen.
Chaos chuckled, 'Oh, funny. It's how the dwarves count years. Am means after maggots.'
I almost spilled my mead, 'what?!'
'Well,' Lyssa said. 'Once upon there was a giant. He was the largest giant ever, so large it was beyond imagination. His name was Remir.'
'Ymir.' Chaos corrected Lyssa.
'Like I said, The gods killed Remir and used his flesh to create Midgard. Nidavellir developed under Midgard, where maggots ate into the giant's dead flesh and created tunnels. Some of those maggots evolved, with a little help from the gods, into dwarves.'
'You know what?' I said feeling myself getting sick. 'Gaia isn't that bad of a mother earth after all.'
'I know,' Chaos said with pride, 'She's my daughter.'
'Let's have a nicer talk. Why does everything has a name?'
'Remember how you created Frostsilver?' Chaos asked. 'You crafted it yourself. There's only one version of it, that's why you can't copy it. It's a sword for a lifetime. Dwarves make things for a lifetime, they are craftsman. They believe that every crafted item with a name has a soul.'
'Fascinating,' I admitted, 'But don't they get tired of remembering all the names?'
Chaos shrugged, 'Heck, I don't know.'
Then the door slammed open, revealing Junior. The Mysterious dwarf who wanted Blitz dead.
Junior looked about two hundred years old. Scraps of grey hair clung to his liver spotted head.
His beard gave scraggly a bad name. His malicious brown eyes flitted around the bar as if he were thinking, I hate that. I hate that. And I really hate that.
He wasn't physically intimidating, shuffling along with his gold-plated walker, but he was flanked by a pair of dwarven bodyguards, each so burly that they could've been used as NFL tackle dummies.
I instinctively reached into my pocket, ready to draw Riptide.
The other customers got up and quietly left, like in a scene from an old Western.
My friends and I stood up and faced the dwarf.
"You!" he said, pointing his sticky finger at Blitzen. "Prepare to die!"
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