"We should have enough drink," Arik said, hefting another keg into place. "More than enough, actually. Especially without Thor."
Valkyrie noticed a small shake of his head after the last comment.
The collective reaction of the remaining Asgardians to their former king's descent into apathetic slovenly had been pity. All of them knew what he had lost, and many had lost plenty as well, so there had been no bitterness aimed at him.
And although Thor had left after the Battle of Earth with a restored confidence, the populace of New Asgard could not help but remember watching him spiral into despair. The pity was always accompanied with respect, however, as he had helped bring them to their new home and had been a strong and charismatic champion for so long before that.
"How many Midgardians are coming?" Arik asked her then, interrupting her thoughts.
"Forty-seven. But remember, the children aren't allowed to drink."
"Right," he said, grinning. "I always forget that."
Valkyrie chuckled.
"How many of the forty-seven are children?" he asked.
"Frida should have that info."
"Alright, I'll check with her."
Arik looked around the clearing, nodding in approval.
"That should be everything then," he said authoritatively.
"The tables and benches have to be laid out," she pointed out. "And we need to get the food prepped."
"I know. But you don't have to worry about that. I'll take care of it."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. Don't worry about it. The preparation's in good hands."
She hesitated, but then nodded.
"Alright, Arik, thank you. I'll see you later then."
He bowed his head, and she clapped his arm gratefully before turning to leave.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Oh yes, I remember him. Didn't he talk to Thor a few years ago?"
"Yes, but he said he got nothing from it. Said Thor was drunk and kept commenting on his hair."
"Well, his hair was weird. For a Midgardian, at least. He wants to talk to me now?"
"Yes," Ingmar said, checking her notepad, "about 'the influence of Asgardians on ancient Nordic culture'."
"Does he think I'm an expert on that? I never visited Midgard before we landed here."
Ingmar shrugged.
"You're the queen. He probably thinks you know all about it."
Valkyrie sighed.
"Did he say when he wanted to come?"
"He said he can work with our schedule. Apparently, this is important to him. He said it could give him a lot of material for the show."
"Hmm...maybe we can find people who know more about it than me. Just ask around. Not a high priority, but I guess the exposure couldn't hurt."
"Shall I set up a date for him to come?"
"Yes. I don't particularly care when, as long as it's not during a busy time for us. And find out how many people will come with him."
"Will do. Do you need anything else from me, my Queen?"
"No, Ingmar, I'll see you at the celebration."
Valkyrie stopped then, at the edge of the path. Ingmar offered a bow, and then continued along the path back towards the town proper.
A salty breeze brushed past Valkyrie.
She stepped off the path, onto the rocky expanse bordering the choppy waters. Two figures waited nearby, so she made her way over to them.
One was tall and broad, his physique solid and firm, a long quarterstaff resting on a strong shoulder. The other was shorter and smaller, and was holding no weapons, as her hands were weapons themselves.
"Hey Val," Korg greeted her. "How's it going?"
Miek added a friendly chirp of her own.
"Oh, you know, going good," Valkyrie replied, taking off her scabbard, "just getting ready for tonight's celebration."
"Huh. Is that tonight? I plumb forgot."
Miek chirruped at him.
"Yeah, you're right. I really should start paying attention to your calendar."
Another chirrup made him nod.
"And here I thought you just got it for the sexy firemen."
He turned back to Valkyrie.
"Do we need to bring a plate?"
"No, we'll have plenty of food."
"Alrighty then, we'll be there with bells on. Not literally, of course. We only do that for Christmas."
Valkyrie drew her sword and tossed her scabbard to the ground.
"You two ready?"
The duo shared a look.
And then charged, quarterstaff whooshing towards her, dual blades slicing through the air.
She met the quarterstaff with Dragonfang, feeling an invigorating rush as her muscles strained against Korg's. A shriek came from close by, and she spun away, meeting Miek's blades, a clang echoing in the chilly air.
As friendly and laid-back as the duo was, it was easy to forget they had fought for their lives constantly on Sakaar. No quarter was given, quarterstaff and blades working in concert, striking, slicing, striking, slicing. Korg grunted with exertion, moving surprisingly quickly for his size, his reach considerable. Miek followed his attacks with practiced precision, shrieking constantly as she weaved around the swinging quarterstaff, the deft complement to her counterpart's might.