Once again, he bowed deeply toward Grim. "I'm sorry we're late in meeting you, my friend."
"You don't know me?"
"Not really. You see—"
Before he could finish explaining, the elf with the glowing eyes reappeared. This time, she wasn't alone. Standing next to her was a man wearing robes similar to hers. Unlike the elf, however, he appeared quite old. White hair surrounded a wrinkled face with deep lines etched between nose and cheekbones. His eyes, like the others', shone bright emerald green.
Both newcomers exchanged glances with each other before turning their attention to Grim.
"And you must be the boys," the elder elf remarked. His voice sounded surprisingly young despite his advanced age. "We've been expecting your arrival for some time now."
"Who are you people?" demanded Bekan.
"My name is Rognvaldr," answered the older elf. "That's Elisia over yonder." A nod of his chin indicated the beautiful elven lady whose eyes still glimmered with a fierce intensity. "She has been helping us prepare for our guests' arrival."
Rognvaldr looked at Grim. "So you have come seeking knowledge of Vana Freya?"
"Yes," replied Grim.
Elisia stepped forward. She reached out a slender arm and placed it gently around Grim's shoulder. Her touch sent tingles through his entire body.
"Welcome to Alfheim, son of Odin," she whispered softly. Then she kissed him lightly on the lips.
Grim jerked away. "W-what do you think you're doing?"
Her expression remained unchanged. "It's just a kiss."
"No, it isn't!" Grim retorted angrily. "There's nothing special about that kiss."
"Oh, but there is," insisted Elisia. "Besides, it's not every day that someone gets to meet one of the sons of Odin. That deserves celebration."
As if to prove her point, she took another step closer and pressed herself against him once again. This time, though, he couldn't pull away. Instead, he relished the sensation of her soft breasts pressing against his chest.
"Please stop this foolishness right now," he begged.
"Foolishness?" repeated Rognvaldr. "Why should I believe you when you say that? After all, who among us can truly understand why anyone might choose to leave their homeland?"
"I left because I had no choice," Grim explained. "They killed my family and destroyed everything else I loved." He gestured vaguely toward Bekan and Soren.
"Ah yes," said Rognvaldr knowingly. "Your brothers. They will be fine here—well, apart from any injuries they may sustain during training."
Training? wondered Grim. What kind of training would require elves and wolves to fight together?
He didn't ask, however, since it seemed better than having them continue tormenting themselves. Besides, he'd already asked enough questions for one night. For tonight, he needed to focus on finding Loki.
Turning, he glared accusingly at the two elves standing behind him. "If you're going to help me find Loki, you'll need to start by answering my questions."
To his surprise, neither Rognvaldr nor Elisia showed any sign of being intimidated by his stern demeanor. In fact, both smiled broadly and nodded enthusiastically.
"Of course, my boy," responded Rognvaldr. "Anything you wish to learn, we shall gladly teach."
"Thank you," added Elisia.
The younger elf turned back to Grim. "Now as far as what you seek to discover concerning Vana Freya, well, that's something even more difficult than learning how to use magic."
"What do you mean?" Grim inquired.
"Vana Freya is home to many secrets," Rognvaldr confided. "Even those closest to its location keep certain things hidden from outsiders. Some call it a 'lost city,' while others simply refer to it as 'the forbidden land.'"
"But where exactly is it located?" Grim persisted.
Rognvaldr shrugged. "All I know is that it lies somewhere in the middle of the forest known as Fólkvangr."
***
After leaving the elven village, Grim trudged along through the dark woods. The sun had set hours earlier, yet the moon provided little light. Under normal circumstances, Grim would have found himself completely lost within minutes. But after spending so much time living under trees, he knew the way instinctively. As did his wolf companion, Fenrir, who padded silently alongside him.
Grim sighed. It was good to see his friend again, but he wished Fenris were still traveling with them. There had never been a chance for him to explain to his father how sorry he felt for abandoning him.
Ahead, the faint glow of an orange fire appeared through the darkness. Not long afterward, they arrived at the campsite. Three figures sat around the tiny blaze: a young girl, her mother, and a giant man who stood nearly seven feet tall. All three wore simple clothing made out of animal hides. A few wooden cooking utensils lay beside the small campfire.
"You are late, grandson," grumbled a gravelly voice. "And your friends too."
Grim glanced over at the huge figure. His face looked like stone carved by some ancient master sculptor. Thick gray hair framed his craggy features, which contained eyes that glowed bright yellow beneath bushy eyebrows. An unkempt beard spilled down past his massive stomach onto thick legs encased in leggings fashioned out of bear fur. Atop his head perched a large conical hat, upon which rested several feathers.
In spite of his intimidating appearance, Grim could tell that the old man sitting next to the fire wasn't really very dangerous. On the contrary, the stranger actually reminded him of his own grandfather.
"Sorry about that," Grim replied sheepishly. "We got held up."
"Hmmm…," muttered the strange old man. Then, without warning, he suddenly burst into laughter.
His companions joined in, laughing uproariously as they slapped each other's backs. Finally, when the fit subsided, the old man wiped tears from his eyes.
"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed. "It has been a long time since I've heard such high spirits! Good news travels fast indeed!"
Grim couldn't help feeling confused. Who was this person? And why did everyone seem to think he was funny?
Just then, Elisia stepped forward and bowed respectfully before speaking directly to Grim. "This is Gjallarhorn, our king, or rather former king, if you prefer to put it another way."
Her words brought Grim fully alert. He stared hard at the elderly fellow seated across from him. Suddenly, Grim understood everything. This must be King Hrymr—a legendary ruler whose name meant "gold horn"—one of the most powerful beings ever to live.
King Hrymr cocked his head inquiringly, waiting expectantly for Grim to introduce himself. When no response came, he scowled slightly and said, "Very well, lad. You may speak now."
"I am Grimnir, son of Odin, High God of Asgard," he announced proudly.
King Hrymr leaned back against one of the logs surrounding their fire pit. "Then let us hear your tale, Grimnir, son of Odin. Tell me what brings you all the way here from Jotunheim."
Grim explained briefly about his quest to find his missing half-brother, Fenris. Afterward, he asked about Vana Freya, hoping the answer might provide insight into how best to reach it.
"Ah yes, Vana Freya," mused King Hyrmir. "The secret city. That place intrigues even my people, though we have not ventured there ourselves. Why do you seek it?"
Grim told the story once more, this time adding details about the elves' attack on his party.
"So these two races hate each other," observed King Hrymr thoughtfully.
"Yes, sire," agreed Grim. "They don't trust anyone else either."
"Well spoken, boy. Well spoken."
At last, Grim turned to the elf maiden standing nearby. She gazed steadily at him, her green eyes sparkling with intelligence. Her skin shone pale white under a cloak woven out of spider silk. The hood draped over her shoulders concealed her ears, which were pointed like those of a wolf. Instead of the customary leather armor common among warriors, she wore only a pair of knee length pants made from deer hide. In her right hand, she carried a bow.
As Grim studied her, he realized he'd never seen someone so beautiful. He felt drawn toward her instinctively; he wanted nothing more than to run his fingers along her cheek. But instead, he found himself staring at her hands, where his gaze fell naturally to the bow she gripped tightly in her left fist. Its handle was wrapped in strips of bark, while its string had been braided together from strands of human hair. It seemed strangely familiar somehow.
Suddenly, Grim remembered: These were the weapons used by a band of heroes known as the Bow Brothers. They were legendary archers who fought alongside Thor during Ragnarok, the final battle between good and evil gods. One day, Grim's father Odin had summoned them to Asgard to become members of his special guard team. Unfortunately, the brothers chose to remain loyal to Asgard after Ragnarök, leaving Odin heartbroken. Thereafter, Odin gave the bows to three giants named Skadi, Brynhildr, and Sigrún, instructing them to keep them safe until Ragnarok.
"My sister, Elisia," offered King Hrymr, gesturing toward the slender woman beside him, "and her companion, Eirikur, are also members of the royal guard.