“Some of us would call that smooth.”
“Well, some of you are touched with some mental sickness, then!”
Erik was laughing again, Tove’s face turning red. “Alright, I’ll get you something you like.”
“Two things.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sure, two things. One has to be food.”
She huffed. “I don’t see why it is you want to feed me so often.”
“I don’t see why you never refuse.”
She kicked at him, her foot missing shallow as Erik hopped away from it. They carried on, to a shop selling ground beef on French rolls. They weren’t quite hamburgers, though they were definitely something similar. The meat was spiced and there was some sort of jam on the bread and they were sat out. He mentioned the word hamburger to the man assembling the sandwiches and received only a blank look followed by an apology. Erik ordered a couple when Tove said she liked the sound of them and the lukewarm sandwiches were wrapped in paper and handed over. They weren’t exactly what Erik had hoped, but Tove liked hers well enough, so it satisfied a part of his debt for having tricked her into eating the chocolate.
They’d made their way past half the shops on the street when Tove spotted a curious one. It sold weapons from the looks of it, very much in the style of the world on the other side of the bridge. She went into the shop with glee, Erik following her, somewhat surprised when he realized that the bulk of the items available were jewelry. Tove took little notice of the smaller baubles, her attention focused squarely on the weapons and shields that adorned the walls and stands.
“Welcome, einherjar. I hope the day finds you well.” The difference in speech was immediately apparent. “I’ll gladly supply you with whatever it is you need. And I’ll not hear a word about co—” He noticed the leather wraps on Erik’s hands. “Beg pardon. Those are finely made. Nothing here I could offer to be of aid. And that’s no word of modesty.”
Erik looked down at his own hands and then back at the man. “Don’t worry about it.” He nodded down toward the boxes that lined the wooden counters. They had glass windows and contained rings and necklaces and the like. “I’ll look at this stuff. While she finds something she likes.” He nodded at Tove and the man followed his look.
“As you’d have it, einherjar.” The man turned his attention to Tove. “Then, little miss. What’ll it be?”
Tove looked at the man as if it was the first she’d noticed him. Without answering she pulled her sword. It was dented deeply from her training with Göll. The man winced to look at it and picked it up.
“What’s happened to you, poor dear?” He spoke to the sword, turning it over. “A pity, but at least it served you.” He laid the sword down, eyes returning to Tove. “I’ve a few this size in the back. A moment.”
He disappeared into the back and Erik turned his eyes to the jewelry in the cases in front of him. The designs were meticulous, beautiful. He recognized Thor’s hammer among them, but there were others as well. A bow and arrow. He vaguely remembered hearing about a god named Ullr whom it might symbolize. There were ravens and spears and dozens of other designs, most seemed connected to gods in some way.
The shopkeep returned holding a pair of swords. He pulled them, showing impressive blades, though neither had runes of any sort. Tove smiled wide when she picked up the first, swinging it freely. It was plain to see it was light and the grip was near perfect for her hand.
“This one.”
The man laughed. “You don’t wish to try the other?”
Tove shook her head. “No, this is the one.” She poked at the air a few times. “I’m sure.” Tove removed the sheath she wore and put it on the counter, replacing it with the new one.
The shopkeep smiled. “It suits you.” He turned to Erik as Tove continued busying herself with the sword. “You’ve eyed those pieces for a time. My apprentice makes them. She’s deft with a hammer, whether striking a blade or tapping fine jewelry.” He chuckled, half sighing. “I swear the girl surpassed me years ago but insists on learning still.”
Erik nodded. “I’ll take another piece, only if you let me pay for it.”
The man came around to Erik, a conflicted look on his face. “I couldn’t charge a man who brings glory to Odin.”
“What if I insist? Call it a gift or something, I don’t know.”
“I… I apologize, einherjar.”
Erik sighed, looking down at the case. “These are silver?”
The shopkeep opened the case. “Platinum. Finer than silver and not given to tarnish.”
There was a silver shield with a thick chain. Erik lifted it from the case. The circular shield bore a pattern turned and repeated in each quarter.
“That one? A beautiful shield, if I say so myself. The pattern gives protection, through the ancient magics, or so my own master told me so long ago. I’d not trust it over armor,” the man laughed. “But there are strange old ways even the gods have forgotten, or so the tales go.”
“I’ll take it.”
“With my blessing, at that. I hope it finds you well at Ragnarok.”
The man bowed and Erik started to the door, seeing that Tove already had. She was outside inspecting her sword in the light of day. As the shopkeep saw the second sword back into the back room, Erik stopped at the edge of the shop, quietly putting two gold coins Modgudr had given him onto the counter.
When he was outside he turned to Göll, her face still serious. He pulled up her hand, and she watched him, impassive. He placed the shield into it.
“I’m sorry I yelled. And I’m no good at this sort of shit. But I want you
