When Loki and the representatives of the two groups of dwarf craftsmen—the Sons of Ívaldi and the Brokkr brothers—arrived at the Golden Palace of Ásgarðr with the six artifacts they had jointly created, the atmosphere was quite subtle.
Loki wore his usual, slightly frivolous smile on his face, but in the depths of his eyes lurked an imperceptible suspicion.
He always felt that the dwarves' work this time was different from what he had seen when he secretly spied before?
Odin sat high on his throne, his gaze gliding over the presented artifacts.
His eyes first fell upon the golden ring—Draupnir.
When Brokkr presented its characteristic of reproducing eight identical gold rings every nine nights, a flicker of satisfaction appeared in Odin's eyes.
This symbolized wealth and the power of proliferation, matching his pursuit of resources and influence as God-King.
"Not bad," Odin commented quietly, placing Draupnir into the wooden box made by the Sons of Ívaldi.
Then, the goddess Sif stepped forward with anticipation.
When the Sons of Ívaldi displayed the golden hair, like flowing sunlight, alive and naturally growing, Sif's eyes flashed with surprise.
She couldn't wait to put it on, and the top of her head, shorn by Loki's prank, was instantly covered with luxurious and lustrous golden hair, even more perfect than her original locks.
She cast a grateful glance at the dwarves, then glared fiercely at Loki.
"This is so beautiful! Thank you, skillful masters!" Sif was genuinely impressed.
Now it was Thor's turn.
Thor could no longer contain himself. He strode forward, staring intently at the short-handled battle hammer that seemed infinitely powerful—Mjölnir.
He felt the majestic thunderous power contained within it, resonating with his own divine force.
"Haha! This is worthy of the power of the thunder god!" Thor laughed and reached out to grab Mjölnir.
However, just as he was about to touch the hammer's handle, a Son of Ívaldi stepped forward, presenting a pair of metal gauntlets flickering with arc patterns.
"Great Thor," the representative of the Sons of Ívaldi said respectfully.
"This hammer is called Mjölnir, and it contains the supreme power of thunder. However, due to the forging process... some unexpected disturbances occurred (he cast a meaningful glance at Loki as he said this), resulting in the hammer's handle being slightly short and the thunderous power difficult to control. This pair of 'Thunder Control Gauntlets' was made for Mjölnir. Only by wearing them can one safely and perfectly control the divine power of this hammer; otherwise..."
He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: if you take it with bare hands, you might get electrocuted, or you simply won't be able to unleash its full power.
Thor frowned. He liked straightforwardness and hated these complications.
He grabbed a gauntlet and tried to put it on, but found it was clearly too small and wouldn't fit over his thick wrist at all.
"Hey! What's going on?" Thor shouted discontentedly, waving the gauntlets, which were like child's toys to him.
"I can't wear this thing! When you were making it, didn't you know how big my hand is?"
One of the Sons of Ívaldi, with just the right amount of 'embarrassment' and 'helplessness' on his face, stepped forward and explained:
"Noble Thor, please calm your anger. We... were not fortunate enough to measure your wrist up close. When creating this pair of gauntlets, they were mainly designed according to the hammer's energy circuit to ensure control efficiency... As for the size, it's true that we were negligent and couldn't accurately estimate it."
This explanation was logical: the dwarves had indeed never seen Thor's hand up close, and their focus on coordination and neglect of physical measurements also sounded like a mistake craftsmen could make.
Thor looked at the powerful hammer that required a 'key' for safe use, and then at the gauntlet he couldn't wear at all. His beard bristled with anger, but he couldn't do anything about it.
He couldn very well get angry just because a dwarf hadn't measured his hand—that would seem petty.
"Hmph!" Thor snorted, grabbed Mjölnir, felt the surging power within it, and glanced with disgust at the useless gauntlet.
"Forget it! The hammer itself is strong enough! This useless gauntlet—keep it!"
He decided to go back and figure out how to adapt to the short-handled hammer himself, or find other ways to control its power.
Loki watched this scene from the side, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"Yes, this is a good hammer. And what about Sif's hair? Sif's dazzling golden hair!" Loki asked anxiously.
"What? Oh, and my wife's hair is quite nice," Thor said indifferently.
"Brokkr, tell me, does this hammer have any other uses?"
"Thor's hammer is even more amazing than my exquisite armband," Odin said, nodding.
The gods patted Brokkr on the back and said that the gifts he and Eitri had given were exquisite.
"That's great," Brokkr laughed.
He turned to Loki.
"So," Brokkr glared at Loki maliciously,
"I can cut off your head and take it back, son of Laufey. Eitri will be very happy. We can use it for something useful."
"I... I want to redeem my head," Loki panicked.
"I can exchange treasures with you."
"Eitri and I already have all the treasures we need," said Brokkr.
"We are the creators of treasures. No, Loki, I want your head."
Loki thought for a moment, then replied: "It wouldn't hurt to give it to you... if you can catch me."
Then Loki jumped high and flew over the dwarf's head.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Brokkr looked at Thor. "Can you catch him?"
Thor shrugged. "I really shouldn't have to do this," he said.
"But I'd like to try out the new hammer you gave me."
Thor quickly returned, clutching Loki in his hand.
Loki was clearly very annoyed but could do nothing.
The dwarf Brokkr took out a knife. "Come here, Loki,"
"I'm going to cut off your head."
"Of course," Loki replied, as if thinking about how to resolve this.
"Of course you can cut off my head. But—I ask Odin to decide for me—if you cut my neck, you will violate our agreement. Our bet allowed you to cut off my head, only my head!"
Odin leaned forward.
"Loki is right,"
"You have no right to cut his neck."
Brokkr was a little irritated.
"If you don't cut his neck, you can't cut off his head."
Loki looked proud.
Brokkr whispered something in Odin's ear.
"That sounds fair," Odin agreed.
Brokkr took out a strap and the knife, which he tied around Loki's mouth, trying to pierce the skin with the tip of the blade.
"I can't get it through," Brokkr said irritably, "my knife can't pierce your damned rotten flesh."
"Probably because I took precautions in advance,"
Loki said 'modestly'.
"This was done so that my previous argument—'you can't cut the neck, you can only cut off the head'—wouldn't work. I don't think a knife can hurt me now!"