Nidavellir

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A/N: Good people of Wattpad, I wish to inform you that the plural of dwarf is dwarfs, not, in fact, dwarves. Disney got a lot of things wrong, but at least they gave us Marvel.  Oh yeah, and in England, we call lady wallets purses, and what you Americans call purses, we call handbags. #Just Saying

Quote (which I came up with): Screaming 'We're all going to die' just as the plane takes off is not a good idea. Ever.

'Why are we even here?' Savannah asked, still somewhat shakily.

'The antidote.'

'But we have the antidote.'

'Yes, but we still need a fire fierce enough to cremate them. Midgard's flames are far too weak.'

'So why not Muspelheim, then. Y'know, the flaming pit of magical fire?'

'The flames in Nidavellir are the only ones that can obtain enough heat to melt the Phoenix's feather. If the temperature were sufficient in Muspelheim, then it would not be sensible for the Phoenix to live there, would it?'

'I guess not. And why did you bring me here?'

'Because, as selfish as it sounds, I feel much better with you around me.'

'Better?'

'Yes- more peaceful and contented. And, dare I say it, happier.'

'Really? I do that?'

'Yes. Your presence is somewhat ... therapeutic.'

Those words couldn't be true. They just ... couldn't. He was probably lying, to get back into her good books, right? Right?

'Loki, sweet words aren't gonna save you. I will get you back for this.'

Loki looked down, and sighed unhappily.

'I am truly sorry,' he said, and Savannah wondered if she'd offended him somehow.

'Well, then you better make it up to me.'

Loki brightened at that.

'I think I can do that,' he said.

'How?'

But Loki just tapped the side of his nose infuriatingly. Before Savannah could find anything to throw at him, however, he interrupted her thoughts.

'Savannah,' he said, 'We need to get going.'

'Where are we going?'

'To the dwarf mines.'

'Cool.'

The dwarfs were friendly enough, despite Loki's earlier insistence that they were as short tempered as they were ... short. At least, they were courteous to her. She had caught several mendacious glares being thrown Loki's way, and he looked a little tense. Jumpy, even.

Now, Savannah didn't remember an awful lot of her recent life, but she did remember her school days perfectly. And, she remembered the library, her solace, her sanctuary. Her favourite section had been that on mythology, and even then she had been particularly interested in Norse mythology, especially Loki. A story sprung to mind, and, if it were true, she could understand why Loki was being so stiff, and awkward. He probably needed reassurance, she concluded. So that was why she had reached out to hold his hand. 

No other reason.

Nope, none at all.

Whatsoever.

Loki seemed surprised, though, and he looked at Savannah, curiosity brimming in his green, green eyes. Savannah smiled comfortingly (she hoped) at him, and he flashed her a dazzling smile back. All appeared well, and a particularly stocky dwarf, built like a barrel, began to lead them down into a long, winding stone corridor. They were almost at the end of it, and Savannah could see a great marble hall, lit red with flickering fire-light, when, from one of the many doors adorning the passage-way, a dwarf stormed out.

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