Okay, so I did get pretty drunk. Not bad enough that I got rolled out the door in a wheelbarrow, but I do distinctly remember that there was singing involved.
What? The drinking age in Niflheim is “As soon as you can lift a tankard.” And for dwarves, it works.

 

I am fairly sure the average dwarf woman has higher alcohol tolerance than Odin. So, maybe Angrboda could be excused after all.

 

At the same time, I had got them to at least tentatively understand my point of view before the singing started. To grasp the concept that maybe, just maybe, fire giants could be traded with.

 

Maybe not fully trusted, but I didn’t fully trust them either, so… It was progress, anyway. Plus, they put me back on Midgaard, behind the apartment.

 

I sneaked back in. Kanesha was curled on a sofa. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Dwarves.”

 

I apparently didn’t need to explain any more. She handed me a glass of water. “Drink this and please don’t be seen in public until you sober up.”

 

She was right, I thought through the fog. I drank it and then went to pass out.
We talked over a breakfast I was slightly too hungover to really enjoy. “We’re making progress.”

 

“Except on getting Muspelheim fixed.”

 

I considered. “They called my sword Firegiver. That means something.”

 

“But…”

 

I sighed. I slipped an arm around her. “I don’t want to leave you. I won’t if I can avoid it.”

 

“But I can’t be in Muspelheim. I can’t even be there, and…” She tailed off. “I know. The world’s more important than I am.”

 

“That’s not true.” I kissed her. “The world is as important as you are in a different way.”

 

“Are you sure you’re sober? Because that didn’t make much sense.”

 

I kissed her again. “To me. Besides, me and Angrboda had a long talk about…well, part of what she made me realize is that we can’t value the world. We can only value the people who live in it.”

 

“Why do you want to save the galaxy?” she shot back.

 

“I am not a raccoon,” I deadpanned.

 

“I loved that character.”

 

I grinned. “The raccoon and the tree. But neither of us is either, so…”

 

“We’re still the fools that live in it.”

 

If that example made her understand me, understand how I was feeling right now, I would very definitely take it.

 

And what would come of us? I would find another way.

 

It was not my task to kill Surtur.

 

I still had to find out who’s it was. Or if it was anyone’s.

 

Maybe letting him kill himself would be a solution to the problem. If it wasn’t for his other plans.

 

No.

 

There would be no war.