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There is no creature, living nor dead, more greedy, more vile than a dwarf. In the frozen reaches of Asgaard, beneath her mighty stone peaks, do they dwell, ever hammering to forge more gold jewelry, to carve more gleaming gems, to breathe curses into their finery. Among these wretched kin is Fafnir, son of Hreidmar, with a swollen smithing arm and a ravenous hunger for violence, both of which are eclipsed by his avarice. One Spring, Odin, Loki, and Honir visited Hreidmar’s realm, bearing an otter pelt th
