The Armorer

It's time to cast the core of Steve's new shield, and I'm a little nervous. It's an emblem as much as a weapon, and I don't want to get it wrong. I have the sand table made up, and I'm giving it a last inspection before I pour on the metal. The alloy I've got melting still has a bit of lead since its malleability is crucial, but I've replaced the aluminum with vibranium and added some additional elements. It will be fussier to work with, but I'm hopeful. As I study the sand, I make a note to test a different option with Steve for the parts that attach the straps. Maybe they need to be moved, or angled, or something. Finally I quit stalling and bring out the crucible with the liquid metal. Once I've poured carefully, I return the crucible to the forge, heating it high enough to clean it out. Don't want contamination for the next melt, and I don't want anybody taking samples, either. I turn off the forge and bring out the cooler with my lunch so I can enjoy the nice spring day outside rather than being stuck in my workshop. Sigurd gallops up, having no interest in metal casting, and I offer him a chicken breast. He inhales that, then pads inside for some kibble and water. A couple of ravens alight in a tree nearby as they've been doing for a couple of weeks now, and I toss them the crusts from one of my sandwiches.

Steve arrives when I'm almost done, and we discuss the shield and my ideas about the grips, and he's enthusiastic about trying different configurations. Thor shows up, looking for Steve, and Sigurd pads out to greet him. We've got less than a week until Odin arrives, and Thor's been badgering us all to be sure we're all moved in so the trailers can be removed, and Tony is making us nuts for telling us to use coasters and not put our feet on the furniture so it all looks perfect. Sigurd and I are moving in today; in fact, after I shape the shield some, we're going to go unpack. Everything's been moved for us, so it's just a matter of emptying and getting rid of the boxes. The housing wing surprised me; it's three levels, but nobody has the penthouse because there isn't one. Tony designed it so that we're all on the two bottom floors and there is a gym, swimming pool, conference rooms, and a big multi-purpose room where we can all hang out, with the tv and BluRay player we bought, a sound system, a bar, pool table, foozball table, darts, stuff like that. Lots of seating areas. We've all taken to hanging out there in our free time. My suite is on the bottom floor, right by the door. There's a device with a key of Sigurd's collar that enables him to get in the building door and the suite without me, which is good because he's awfully lazy in the morning and doesn't want to get up when I do. The new cafeteria is across the street and is several hundred notches better than my university cafeteria. The tables can seat a few or be pushed together for a crowd, the food is delicious, they have a liquor license so they can serve wine and beer with dinner, and of course it's very tastefully decorated. It should be good enough for an interstellar king.

You can hear the construction continuing on the R and D block, and we're chatting about nothing in particular, as I pick tufts of fur out of Sigurd's coat. The groomer says he's blowing his coat, which apparently means that he's getting rid of his dense, soft underfur all at once. I groom assiduously every night, and I'm sure that I've gotten enough fur out to make Sigurd a friend, but it just keeps coming out. I pile it on the ground so if the ravens want to use it in their nests they can. Thor listens to my explanation in good humor, but stiffens when he sees the ravens. "Father," he bellows rather threateningly, and I look at Steve sideways. He looks puzzled too, so it's not just me thinking it's weird that Thor thinks his dad is a couple of birds. One of them squawks tauntingly and they fly away. Thor turns to us. "Hugin and Munin are my father's familiars," he says, biting the words off.

"Your dad's a witch?" I ask, puzzled, and this makes Thor snort a laugh.

"No, but he uses them as his eyes and ears where he cannot be," he says. "How long have they been here?"

"Couple weeks," I say. "They show up during lunch, mostly. I give them some bread."

Thor smirks. "I thought they looked fat," he says with satisfaction. "Father is getting information on those he must work with here."

It's my turn to snort as I get up and pry the shield off the sand. "He's wasting his time," I say absently, looking over the rough form. "I don't make policy, I'm just the blacksmith."

"You are an unknown entity," Thor corrects me, reaching over to touch the shield, but burns himself. I point toward the sink in the workshop. When he comes back, shaking water off his hands, he continues, "And you're an armorer. He will be very curious. You are very small to be working in a forge. I mean no offense," he said, holding up his hand. "And your methods are not ours. I have informed him of my promise to you, made while I was acting king, that you are not to be forced back to Asgard against your will. He has agreed to honor that promise, but you should be wary of any offers to entice you to visit. You would not be held prisoner, but you would find it difficult to leave before he allows it." My lips thin and I take the shield into the forge for the next stage, which is to heat the shield again and work the metal a little with the hammer. Sigurd stays outside; his ears are sensitive. I strike the metal with more force than is needed as I thin the metal slightly, evening it out, work hardening it. The men watch from outside until I heat the shield until it glows, then leave it inside the building, locking the door behind me, so that it can cool slowly and anneal. I push my sand table back through the french doors of my workshop, and survey the area to be sure I'm not leaving anything out. It looks like it might rain later.

"I've got a job," I say tensely as I lock my workshop.

"I agree," Thor says placatingly. "It is why I warned you to take care. I have also cautioned my father against trying to draw you to Asgard."

I feel a little less grumpy. We all start to walk back to the housing block, chatting about how we're going to decorate our rooms. The boys laugh at me when I tell them that the thing I'm most excited about is the deep soaker tub in the bathroom. There's also a spacious utility room at the other end of the hall that has a long, low tub and table where I can wash and dry Sigurd. Sam is also interested in getting a dog. We talk about the proposed trip tomorrow; a bunch of us are going into Seattle to shop for things we might need or want for our new accommodations. Thor is having his dad bring a bunch of stuff, including an armor stand, so he's going to stay here and hang out with Sigurd. He doesn't like shopping. Either of them, actually. Sigurd got yelled at for shedding on the furniture at the store when we looked for furniture for the trailer even though he wasn't even shedding at the time.

The party splits when we get to the housing block; Thor is up on the second floor with Jim, Sam, Tony, T'Challa (when he's here), Vision, and Bruce. On the ground floor with Steve and me are Natasha, Clint, Peter (when he's here), Wanda, and Scott. There are a couple empty suites on each floor, and a whole second wing where Nick decided to live, visiting dignitaries can stay, along with new Avengers if the team gets big enough, and several rooms where scientists and other personnel can stay overnight if they're working late.

Sigurd and I unpack, consult with each other, and arrange things before going to the third floor; it's a bit of a ritual now; we meet for a cocktail and unwind, then go for dinner. Sigurd goes back to the suite; he gets a little pudgy if he hits the dining room too often. He's a favorite there and the chefs like to treat him. Back at the third floor, we hang out until there's a call for an action. They dash off to suit up, and I head downstairs with my dog. It's down in Atlanta, so they'll probably back tomorrow in time for the shopping, Natasha says. I pick up my book on cell biology and read for awhile before Sigurd flops on the bed and we go to sleep.