The dwarf was not quite what I expected. True, he was indeed short and almost equally broad, and he did have a beard.

I hadn’t expected…somehow I’d always envisioned dwarves as a little bit ill-kempt, more focused on digging out gems and the like than their own appearance. The dwarf who met us was well dressed, hair and beard flowing and well-groomed.

Or maybe they were just more careful when meeting outsiders. “Loki,” he growled. “You’re lucky we’re even letting you set foot in our halls. Who are the women?”

“My daughter, Siglaugr, and her mortal companion Kanesha.”

Kanesha looked like she was making notes. Mental ones if nothing else.

The dwarf sniffed. I didn’t think he was intending to be rude – a race that lived underground in darkness probably had a better sense of smell than us. Getting our scent, then.

“And what do the ladies want? Swords? Armor? Jewelry?”

I was flattered he listed them in that order. “Swords,” I said with a bit of a smile.

“Ah. And who do you fight?”

“Anyone who wants to mess with us,” Kanesha said, stepping forward slightly.

I let her do it. Dwarves, Loki had said, respected both strength and cunning, which is why stealing was sometimes part of the game.

“At least you didn’t just come in and try to rob us this time.”

Loki grinned. “She is also Sigyn’s daughter.”

The dwarf laughed. “And thus entirely too moral at times. Come.”

The tunnel was a little low. I certainly had to duck my head and even Kanesha was having difficulty in a few places.

Then it opened out into the heart of the mountain and I gasped. I couldn’t help it. No memory was triggered by this.

I had never been here before. The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings movies had been closer than what I envisioned, but not quite.

Or maybe it just wasn’t possible to duplicate by mortal means these halls, galleries with pillars that appeared made of precious gems.

Gold inlaid in the walls. Dwarves showing their wealth. No, dwarves showing that even the most precious was simply more building material to them. Or both.

The dwarf grinned. “It takes everyone like that.”

“Even dwarves.”

“Even the children when they first see it.”

It was designed that way, I thought. We walked along the open gallery – a metal railing kept us from falling, but did nothing to interfere with the startling view. I could hear sounds of industry and smithing from somewhere deep below, loud enough to be heard, but not so high decibel that we could not fit.

Then we moved down, through gold doors, solid gold, that stood open for us and were in the throne room of the king of the dwarves.