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kitchen table chairs and then the table. I opened a cabinet,
pulled out a shot glass and a bottle of Middleton. Glancing back, I hefted the
glass.
    The Imp stared at it for a moment and, once again, using his
fingers, this time indicating that the glass was too small. With a laugh I
pulled out a tumbler, poured out a hefty amount, then placed it in front of
him. He gulped it down in one long swig and then placed the glass down on the
table.
    "Satisfied?" I asked before continuing. "Now,
perhaps we can start with your name."
    "His name is Ataulf," a voice behind me said. It
was Lucinda. "And he should not be here."
    "Yet here I am," he chimed in, lifting up the
glass. "Ataulf, at your service. But you can call me Alf." Then he tilted
it in my direction, indicating a refill.
    "Alf, it is," I said, shaking my head as I
refilled his glass. Maybe after a few drinks under his belt I'd be able to figure
out what was going on.
    "And just where else should I be?" he asked the
cat. "Bernd is late. Two days late, I might add. Where would you have me
go?"
    "Anywhere but here," she replied, jumping on the
table. "But it matters not. As you can see, Bernd is not here."
    "He must be warned," the Imp continued.
    "He can take care of himself," Lucinda said.
    They started to argue back and forth before I jumped in to
try and see what this was about.
    "Enough!" I yelled. Then I turned to the Imp.
"What's this about needing to be warned," I asked.
    "Bernd knows the dangers," Lucinda said,
apparently needing to get in the last word.
    "I said, enough," I repeated, looking at her.
"King of the Faeries, remember?" I reminded her. "Now what the
hell is going on?"
    Lucinda's tail swiped back and forth before she replied.
    "Fine, tell him," she said, glaring at the Imp.
    "Then again, she could be right," he said, taking
a drink from his refilled glass. "Perhaps I'm just overreacting. Yes, I'm
sure that's it. He's probably fine."
    "Cut the crap," I said, grabbing a chair and
swinging it around to sit down. I faced them both. "I need to know what's
going on. Now, start from the beginning. What dangers does Bernd know about?"
    "How much do you know about the Dwarves?" Alf
asked, after a quick glance over to Lucinda.
    "Not much, to be honest," I answered.
    "He knows Motgnir and Valen," Lucinda said.
    "Ah, that makes it easier," he said, taking
another sip. "Then you know half the story."
    "What story," I asked. "What am I missing now?"
    "Well, since you must know the story to understand, I'll
try to make it brief," he answered, all traces of his accent gone.
    He straightened up, and I had to laugh to myself as he
assumed the role of a lecturer.
    "Perhaps you know this already but the Dwarves once
served the Gods. Many gifts did they bestow on them. But as each gift was
presented, conflict followed, for the Gods were vain and jealous of each
other's gifts. Not to mention thinking themselves better than all the others.
This made the Dwarves angry, as they were weary of serving such beings and
craved power themselves. So they retreated to their own kingdom, only
occasionally venturing out to see what was happening. As the God's conflicts
escalated, an argument ensued between two of the most powerful Dwarf lords, Valen
and Grerin."
    "Grerin argued that they should bar the gates and leave
the Gods and lesser beings to their own devices until the conflict was over.
Valen, and a few of his kin, felt that they must stay and help those that could
not help themselves. To make a long story short, Grerin won out and the gates
were closed. All contact with the other Fae was forbidden and Valen and his kin
were left to their own fates. In turn, Valen's Dwarves did what they could,
helping the lesser Fae and others for as long as they were able."
    He paused and took another drink.
    "Well, after The Fall , and the turmoil among the
Fae that followed, little has been heard from Grerin and the other Dwarves.
That is, until rumors of the High Fae's return surfaced. Then for