When the green stars from their eyes faded away, Ulius and Frey’r were yet again in another place than expected.

A dwarven forge thought Ulius. Yet some tools are elven.

“It malfunctioned again,” he groaned to his companion. “I think we’re somewhere in the Dwarven Mountains. We’re on our own, Frey’r. I hope the others landed somewhere safe too.”

The Schiavon was just giggling uncontrollably.

“Are you ok?” asked Ulius.

Frey’r pointed at him, still giggling.

“I am. You, on the other hand… I wish I had a mirror, just to see your face when you’d look in it.”

“What?” asked Ulius, feeling himself to see if he didn’t grow a third hand by some tunneling mistake. “WHAT THE…!”

It was the clothes. Sailor clothes, only of that kind four years old wear. Blue ribbons everywhere, a nice toque on his head. And he had a lollipop in his coat’s pocket.

“Oh my, you look so handsome!”

Estella had appeared in front of them from thin air.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!” yelled Ulius. “Where are we, where are the others?” asked Frey’r at the same time.

“Dear brother, I did nothing. My subconsciousness, on the other hand, sees you like a big child. It cannot be helped. Listen. This is not the real world; we are inside the tunnel, just now. Tunneling so many people from such a distance generate a great deal of probabilistic energy. Meaning Magic. My subconsciousness felt the opportunity and created a few secondary events. Trials that will help each one of us become stronger. This is yours. I’ll be brief: you and Frey’r must collaborate. You are always breaking things; it’s time you learn to create. Frey’r needs a weapon, a magical one. He’s dislikes fighting and killing, he’s the most gentle warrior you’ll ever find, yet fight will come to him. When the trouble comes, I need him ready; I need him strong enough to overcome the odds and lead his people to prosperity. The weapon you will make for him will help. Sort it together. This is your task, and I cannot assist you, I have to leave. When you succeed or fail, you’ll be transported on the Realm, with the rest.”

With those words, she disappeared, and they looked with long faces at each other.

“Ulius, do you have any experience in iron-work?” asked the barbarian. “Because I’m useless.”

“I do have some skills,” acknowledged the boy. “Mother Heyra is an accomplished ironsmith, gunsmith, and metallurgist. She takes me with her… err… when Mother Feyra does something risky with explosives or electricity. I’m too dangerous to have around in a lab, while there are not too many things I could break in a forge. I’ve learned some bits by seeing her and even crafted many knives for fun, but we had a power hammer and grinder. Neither she nor I had the desire to exhaust ourselves beating on an anvil.”

“Kid, you have a power hammer just here. Me. Just tell me what to do!”

Ulius’ theoretical knowledge in weaponsmithing was vast, despite his meager practical experience. Frey’r, on the other hand, was quite skilled with his hands. Things went smoothly, and in what they felt like a few hours, they were looking at a beautiful war-axe head. It had multiple layers of folded metal, the exterior ones protecting the interior one, that one was showing only in the edge, it was meant to cut. It looked straight yet perfect, not too shiny, not too rough. The grinder was there; after all, they didn’t observe it. It was archaic, but with Frey’r turning and Ulius sharpening, they had a razor edge in no time. There were a few handles on a shelf, and Frey’r chose a Desert wood one, hard, but not brittle. With a layer or two of oil on it, the job was done. Or so they thought.

“Why are we still here?” asked the Norse.

“I dunno!”

“What was the task again? Is there anything we missed?”

“I dunno. The magical weapon is done. OH! MAGICAL! That’s it; it’s not magical yet. I have to put a spell on it, to enhance it! Oh, my, never done that. But, there’s always a first. What kind of spell do you want?”

“I have absolutely no idea. You’re the magician, can’t you figure out something?”

“I’m kinda short on imagination just now,” confessed the boy, “I could try something generic. Usually, if you don’t know what to do, Magic fills up the blanks. Very handy.”

“Ah, Ulius, you are not very helpful!”

The kid gathered his thoughts for a moment.

“There’s a clinch. It will need an activator. Every magical weapon in the stories has an activator. It has to draw blood, or whatever.”

Frey’r thought carefully.

“Can you make it work under the moonlight?”

“Positive."

The kid raised the axe and spoke with a deep theatrical tone but not too much inspiration.

"Oh, mighty Magic, I beseech you... errr... to do some stuff and...well... give powers to this axe... er... so it will do stuff under Selene and, slash, or Andymyon light, and make my buddy Frey’r here a superhero. Do your best, Magic, you’re a big boy, or girl, or whatever. Here you are, Frey’r.”

Ulius offered him the weapon.

The Schiavon was stunned.

"That was... a spell?"

“Well... I did try my best. Why did you ask for the moonlight? Why not sunlight? So much more practical.”

‘There is almost always one of the moons up, even during the day, while during the night, there is no sunlight at all, correct?”

“WHAT? Don’t you know moons reflect sunlight, Frey’r?”

“Seriously?”

As Ulius sighed, the surroundings began to fade.