Ivaldi's Cave

I squeeze myself through the rock, tunneling and burrowing my way along past the familiar pathways. To access the Dwarven realm one must traverse the unfamiliar pathways. I pass their subtle signposts, then their obvious ones, each promising very painful consequences to all who trespass here. When I come to the really large one that reads, "Keep out, fools!" I know I am almost there. Then I abruptly enter Ivaldi's cave. It is large, fashioned like a gigantic hall of men.

Groaner doesn't even look up from his work. Grunt makes his characteristic sound, apparently in welcome. I can see some of the other brothers at work in the hall, but they pay me no heed. I bid them greetings, and offer hope of prosperity in their work. They continue on with their forging. I wait.

Grunt finally responds, "Still haven't learned to read, then, Piece of Dirt?"

"Peace. I work this ground for peace. And your sign says for fools to keep out. But I am not a fool." I answer.

"Huh," he grunts. "What do you want this time? The Ship not big enough for you?" The Dwarves have little time for anyone merely coming to chat. They will try with gruffness to frighten away those who are not truly interested in their wares and willing to pay. For the really foolish who venture here, they might be unpleasant, indeed.

"Oh, the Ship is splendid! I am merely making a social call. Just to tell you I have a new client, and he is interested in your smithcraft." It is not done to get right to business with the Dwarves. If they know what you want straight off, the price goes up.

"Huh." Grunt is a being of few words. "Have you traded up or down?" He didn't think much of Gunnar-Frey. I thought that to his credit.

"Oh, definitely up." I am looking forward to proving this, and I think that I would like it to stay proven. I shove the thought away, but Groaner catches the drift. He finally becomes interested in my presence.

"Oh, we could help with that. Yes, indeed." Groaner is always looking for a commission. "The Unquenchable Spear. Doubly good, on the battlefield a sure winner. And in more private fields of battle, well it works just as well there. Always ready at hand, so to speak. Never lets you down."

"Well, " I say, carefully hiding my enthusiasm for the product, "I don't know that my client would ever need such a thing. His prowess in both fields of battle is well known."

"Huh," responds Grunt, squinting as a flare burst forth from the furnace. "We can improve upon any client's performance. No question."

"Can't imagine a client who would turn down the Unquenchable Spear," adds Groaner, working the bellows. "And the greater the natural stature of the client, the more magnified the result. You know that."

"Well," I answer, "It does sound interesting...but can you make, say, a Ring of Glamour?" I mention the least of all possible Rings, just to sound them out.

"Pfft," spits Groaner. "With our eyes closed, we could make such a thing. I thought you said your client was a man? What, is he ugly?" He sees my face, and laughs. "Oh, you mean for diplomatic measures. Sure, we can make a handsome face even more pleasant and his words more palatable to the listener. Child's play."

"Well, he is handsome enough, and skilled already in diplomacy. I don't know that you can improve much there, either." There is always room for growth in these matters. But I don't admit it. I pause. Then, I ask, "Can you make a Ring of Wealth?" Just for measure.

"Huh," Grunt grunts. It sounds like an assent. He eyes his brother. There is a wordless exchange between them.

Groaner calls one of his other brothers over to mind the bellows for him.  He turns to me, wiping his sturdy brown hands on his leather apron. "Care for a drink?" he asks. They realize now that I am in the market, and will work it until they get the commission from me.

"Sure," I say. "I'm always thirsty." He leads me over to a side alcove, where there are tables and benches, and waves me onto a seat. There is another Dwarf there, very dark, with a red beard and a shaven upper lip, and a very large mug of ale. Groaner carefully steers me to the table farthest away from him before continuing our conversation.

"Your client not giving you enough to drink? Isn't that in your job description? Milking the bull?" he laughs, but mildly. He doesn't care one way or the other, as long as he gets paid either way. I laugh along with him.

"There will be plenty of bull's milk for me," I assure him. The energy from such an exchange can keep the forges going a great while. He is satisfied, and pours me an ale, along with one for himself.

"To your new client," he toasts, and I hear him mentally add, "and to all of the wealth the commission brings the Sons of Ivaldi." He takes a long drink, then sets his mug down on the table.

"Now, what is it you want, exactly?" he is very direct, in the way of Dwarves.

"The Unquenchable Spear does sound promising," I tell him, "but can it do anything for a client well-gifted in these matters already?" I sip my drink carefully. The ale of Dwarves is a strong one.

"Sure, sure. You know this already. He won't be disappointed. Once forged, the spear will never-" he paused for effect, one large finger tapping the board for emphasis, "and I do mean never, let the client down. Always a winner. When at rest, it stays at rest, but when called to hand, so to speak, well! It's ready to do battle. And always hits its mark. Now, what client wouldn't love that? Eh? And the benefits are there for you, as well!" he nudged me conspiratorially, winking.

I smile at this, and nod. It does sound appealing. But I am really after the greatest of Rings, though I can't allow him to know this, yet. I sip my ale thoughtfully. "I'd like to see this Spear in action!" I assure him. Then I ask again, "What about a Ring of Wealth?"

Groaner leans back, contemplating the possibility. He says finally, "You mean your man's a handsome, upright sort of fellow, just lacking in funds, then?" I nod. Groaner takes a good, long drink, pondering. "Well, we can fix that. Why not? A Ring of Wealth should be no problem."

The red-bearded Dwarf at the far side of the other table snorts derisively. Groaner glares at him. "You pay him no mind," he tells me. "He's just passing through. Just leaving," here Groaner leans on the very word as if to force the issue, "in fact."

Redbeard heaves himself up from his bench and saunters over to our table. "You want Rings of Power?" he says to me. "Why settle for anything less than the best? My brother, Sindri, is the best Ring crafter in Swartalfheim. His Rings are legendary. I doubt anything the Sons of Ivaldi craft can come close to topping Sindri's work."

Groaner stands, hands carefully placed on the tabletop. "Says who?" he spits out angrily.

Redbeard leans into Groaner so that their faces practically touch. "Says I, Brokk!" He responds confidently. He is very, very sure of his words.

"If you weren't of my mother's kin, I'd take it out of your hide," hisses Groaner. "No one's works can top the works of the Sons of Ivaldi." They stand, bristling at each other, ready to boil over in a moment. I can see the surety in Brokk's eyes, and the slight quaver in Groaner's. I know who I will back in this fight. But I can see usefulness and profit to us all in stopping this short of battle.

"So, a wager, then," I propose. "The Sons of Ivaldi to craft their best item for my client, and Brokk and his brother to craft their best for him, as well. Then we shall let the client choose among them whose work is finest."

I see Groaner leap to the challenge. "Done," he states. "Upon my word, Loki, we shall craft the Unquenchable Spear for your new client."

I clench hands with Groaner in agreement, and turn to Brokk, who shakes his head. "We do no work unless it pays well, very well, and the client is worthy of it." His coal-black eyes bore into my own.  "Very worthy." he repeats. " I will take your wager, little Earth-Wyrm, when you pledge payment for the commission, and when you prove the worthiness of this client. You come to Sindri's forge and show me this client of yours. Then we shall prove whose word and whose anvil rings true." Brokk downed his mug and whacked it solidly on the table before taking his leave.

I follow Groaner back over to where Grunt is working. Grunt gives the evil eye to his brother. He knows Brokk was talking to us. He knows it might mean the loss of future custom for him. Groaner ignores the glare, and gets back to work. But he speaks wordlessly to his brother all the same, while I wait.

Grunt listens silently, then turns to me, a red light just barely illuminating his dark eyes. "Don't mind my cousin, he's always been a rude, surly sort of fellow. Very boastful, too. Can't believe a word he says." Grunt tells me.

"I could see it in his eyes," I respond, though I don't mention what it was. I'd like to keep on good terms with both of these contacts, thank you very much.

"I see we have your commission for the Unquenchable Spear," Grunt says. "Though no promise of payment. It'll be enough to beat the snot out of my distant cousin. Always bragging about his brother's work. But we'll show him. The Unquenchable Spear is one of our finest products. Give me a shout when you're ready to send the energy for it."

"How long will it take to craft?" I inquire.

Grunt is thoughtful. "Depends." he answers. "Who is your new client?"

"Odin, son of Bor. Chief of the Aesir."

"Huh." Grunt searches through the realms. "I see him. Shouldn't take long, not for that one. Once or twice if you do your job well. You're a good channel for energy. Should work well for you. Now I'm back to work." I feel my dismissal. I crawl back into the rock.

About halfway home, I feel a tugging on my sleeve. It is Brokk. He has waited for me, away from Ivaldi's hall.

"So, you have a keen interest in Rings, do you?" he asks. I see no reason to deny what he already knows.

"Yes. For my client."

"Just the two? Wealth and Glamour?" his eyes begin to sparkle in the dark of the underground. "There are others, you know. Why stop at two?"

"Really, how skilled is your brother at crafting such Rings?" I ask him. "To add more than one or two charms to such a thing would surely be difficult at best." I had envisioned decades of the Dwarves meticulously crafting one Ring at a time as Odin and I became older and grayer.

Brokk laughs softly. "Oh, it can be done. For a very worthy client, it can be done. And Sindri has a specialty, a Ring of Power so grand in scope, so wound with powerful enchantment that they call it the King-Maker."

All right, he definitely has sparked my interest. "How many enchantments?" I murmur.

"Oh, it has the wealth. Limitless, self-regenerating wealth. More money than any man should hope to see in his lifetime. And glamour by far. People will find your client irresistibly attractive in whatever way he needs them to. Provides luck in home, marriage and family. Brings political power along with impressive persuasive abilities. Provides a constant excellent reputation, too. Brings with it strong, loyal allies. And fame. Not the least of its charms! Outstanding, realm-wide fame and the highest social standing. In fact, " he chuckles further, "we call this little bauble's many woven charms the "luck-fame.""

I am about bedazzled by this description. This is exactly what Odin is looking for. I try to keep the joy from lighting my face. He knows he has whetted my appetite. He smiles, showing bright, pointy teeth. He knows he has me.

"Come to Sindri's forge and show me your client. Then, we'll talk more." Brokk abruptly dissolves into the stone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Viss-ual Perspectives

Laeviss talks about Odin's eyes: Laeviss says that when Loki first met Odin, he had two very beautiful and expressive eyes. One of the things Loki remembers best is the expression of wry amusement Odin used to wear almost continually when dealing with him. Loki is much attracted to mirth and admits to encouraging the humorous aspects of their friendship almost to a fault, but Odin rarely chastised him for this, as he had an advanced sense of humor himself. Odin wanted to be as well-versed in magic as Freyja and Loki, and required that his wife and brother share their magical secrets with him. Loki warned Odin that he could lead him to the gambling hall, but unless he opened his pouch and laid down his gold it would avail him not. Odin wouldn't offer to the Goddess that which he couldn't give, but Odin is nearly as crafty as Loki (maybe even craftier) and when presented with a wall instead of a door he will look for a window, and if one isn't available he'll have Thor make one. He'll go sideways to get forward. Anyway, when the usual offering was the testicles, Odin gave an eye. Laeviss says it would have been his right eye symbolically that he offered in sacrifice. Laeviss says this made him lose visual perspective, but gain greatly in spiritual perspective.

Dealing with Earth Elementals

Laeviss once gave a copy of his paper on the Creation of Rings to an elder spiritwalker (the Critic), out of curiosity to see if the elder would either verify the rite he described therein or deny its validity. After awhile, the Critic came back and said he'd had somewhat of a conversation with the Dwarves himself.
"How did it go?" Laeviss wondered.
Well, it went swimmingly, as normal conversations go, until the Critic mentioned being interested in something about a rite for making kings. After that, he had to perform the psychic equivalent of beating his conversational partners over the head with a very large stick in order to get them to retract their teeth. They were overly eager to be of service, he said, and requested blood.
Well, how about that? That shouldn't be of any surprise to anyone reading the lore. Loki's supposed to pay for this stuff with his head, after all. He'd lose all of his blood that way, and wouldn't the Dwarves be pleased with that?
So, how come Balder ended up dying, instead of Loki?
Good question, and Laeviss is glad you asked.
There are some very interesting side effects to working this sort of magic with another person for any length of time. Laeviss has performed this ritual at least twice, preserved in memories from past existences. Here are a couple of questions regarding this issue.

Q: What happens if the client and the shaman are prevented from completing the ritual? 

A: Laeviss says that the Loki-type shaman arrives on Earth with a personality that is, of necessity, focused and direct (if viewed in a positive light) and obsessive and compulsive (if viewed in a negative light.) The shaman cannot turn off the compulsion to perform the prime directive, it is in his programming, as it were, and he is simply doing what comes naturally to him, and what he most has an interest in doing. If the shaman is prevented from continuing the rite once it has begun, he will eventually be drowning in an overwhelming sea of love and desire and the only way to turn the more negative aspects of this off aside from continuing the ritual is to disable his own emotive drivers. There are ways to do this, but Laeviss tells me emphatically that they are very unpleasant and unhealthy and he very strongly advises staying away from them. Entertaining them usually results in the self-destruction of the shaman. The Client, if prevented from his engagement with the shaman, will be overcome, as well, and will soon exhibit varied symptoms of insanity. Laeviss says that he was once prevented by the Client (on moral grounds) from continuing with the ritual once it had already begun, and that he was eventually driven to shut down his own emotive drivers by the most expedient way possible for him. The Client, meanwhile, had become emotionally unstable. Eventually, Laeviss says that the Client sought him out and told him three things: "Don't die, I can't live without you" "I will go to hell for you" and "I'll never deny you (our physical, spiritual and emotional contact) again, as long as you stop." Laeviss says that the lure of the substance he had been using was not anywhere near as compelling to him as the lure of the bone the Client held out to him, so he agreed to be a good dog.

Q: It sounds from this like the shaman is obsessed with sex.

A: Laeviss insists that the shaman is obsessed with his relationship with the Client, not with sex, and that the sexual activity is an expression of the deep connection he feels with the Client, and the profound love that exists between them. Laeviss says he has reason to believe that the Client is nearly as obsessed with the shaman, but Odin is a man of complex nature and diverse interests and Laeviss insists that Loki's nature is quite simple, so in his simple-minded devotion he might have gotten this part wrong. But he's pretty sure, yes, he is.




Laeviss talks about the ending of the ritual of the Ring of Increase, and how Loki's death was avoided:

Laeviss says that, in accordance with his oath to Brokk, Loki pre-arranged his own death by ritual sacrifice, and that Heimdall was supposed to perform this for Odin, in order to spare Odin from such a task. At the appointed time, however, Odin intervened and stepped into the role of sacrificer. After Heimdall had hallowed Loki's person, as was the custom, Odin waited while Loki went into a trance in order to contact the Earth Elementals. It should be said here that Odin had previously (several years into the rite) ordered Loki to inquire whether or not his head could be ransomed from Brokk, and what the price might be. Brokk had answered, "There is but one price, and that price is blood. You will pay according to your oath." At the time appointed for the sacrifice, when Loki went into a trance and contacted the Earth Elementals, Odin ordered Loki to tell Brokk that Brokk could have Loki's head, but that Loki's neck and all of the rest of him belonged to Odin, and was not to be damaged. (Laeviss adds that this statement was merely poetic license on the part of Odin, Odin did not actually own Loki, although Loki had freely given himself in service to Odin. The dwarves seemed satisfied with Odin's pronouncement, however.) Laeviss comments that Brokk and his brother, Sindri, did not appear to be surprised much at this sudden turn of events. The Dwarves merely conversed between themselves a bit, and then Brokk told Loki that since Odin owned Loki, and had thus ordered it so, Loki was free of his oath, but that Odin now owed the price of the Ring. Brokk then magically sewed Loki's lips shut so that Loki could not tell the Aesir who the Dwarves had decided to take in Loki's stead. (Laeviss guesses that they didn't want Odin to figure out a way to weasel out of it.) But Brokk warned Loki that if their choice (Balder) was not sacrificed or if he went unwillingly to his death, the ring Draupnir would be cursed like Andvari's ring, and all that Odin had achieved with it would have been for naught. Loki then had a hard choice: Name Balder as the sacrifice, or completely fail in his prime directive, and cause the ruination of Odin, whom he deeply loves.

Q: Why did the Dwarves choose Balder as the sacrifice after Loki was denied them?

A: The Dwarves had strict criteria for the sacrifice. It had to be Odin's man, and it had to be one that was of suitable value, and one that Odin would miss. The Dwarves also probably chose one that they believed might be willing to die for Odin. Remember, the Earth Elementals have a vested interest in the potential results following the creation of Rings of Power.
(As others have pointed out, a nifty side effect of this is that placing Balder in Hel actually keeps Balder safe, so that he can reseed the new Earth after Ragnarok.)

Odin's Brothers

Laeviss talks about Villi and Ve:
 Laeviss says that these two brothers of Odin are both hawks, and that Odin is an eagle. Odin never goes anywhere without his two brothers, if they are not present physically he carries them metaphysically as a bi-colored hawk perched between his eyes. One of the brother-hawks is black, and the other is white, and Laeviss says that sometimes the one you might think is the black hawk is actually the white one, and vice versa. They can actually resemble, Laeviss says, the yin-yang symbol in that each of the hawks is capable of being either black or white or both, as needed. In the Poetic Edda, it is said that when Odin, Villi and Ve together created the first humans out of trees, "Soul they had not, sense they had not, heat nor motion, nor goodly hue; soul gave Odin, sense gave Hoenir, heat gave Lothur and goodly hue." Laeviss says that Odin provided the breath, soul, and voice of humankind, Hoenir provided the intelligence, direction and force of will, and Lothur provided the blood/heat of desire (or passion, if you will), form and color. Laeviss can tell you that the name Lothur has multiple meanings, one of them is hluod-her "soldier of fame" but also hlaut-her "soldier of sacrificial blood." Odin and Loki were very fond of using words and names the sounds or symbols of which had double or even multiple meanings. Though Odin was the more famous  by far, Lothur was an army unto himself, says Laeviss, and his client the beneficiary of very powerful magic.