We all were to be king.

I was slung into a chair, staring into the dancing flames of a fire of one of the great hearths in the Royal Hall and reordering my thoughts, shifting them this way and that, attempting to take in this new reality. Even if I sat there still as the slope of fjord on a windless day, my insides were a mixed and spinning slough of emotions. When some of them rose, I felt the hobgoblin in me stir and my fists flex involuntarily. When others rose, I felt nothing but relief and a form of deep contentment.

The exceptional burden and responsibility of single kingship had been wrenched from my shoulders. In its place, however, had been set the rulership of a distant gate with several problematic, and possibly fatal, flaws.

Handing me the Eastern gate looked like nothing more than a renewed attempt to keep me at arm's length from the rest of my family, as well as keeping me away from actual power. And yet – both Regin and Otr had received gates, just as I had. How and where could I protest? 

On the surface, no one could raise their voice claim it was another exile, least of all me, but in practice it could very well develop into just that.

The hobgoblin shifted and sent a wave of acidic exhilaration through my arms and legs. I thumped it hard on the skull and told it to be silent. I had no irrefutable evidence that I would soon be suffering another humiliating round of injustice. It was my wounded pride speaking, that was the long and short of it. 

I stared into the fire, not really seeing it. 

With my feelings removed from the situation, only the question of joint rulership of the Kingdom remained.

How would we brothers who barely knew each other be able to adequately govern together? Otr I was beginning to value greatly and a sense of friendship was developing between us, but Regin? How was I to deal with a dwarf who had been doing his utmost to replace me all this time?

Not only did he dress as if he were the firstborn son of the King of the Mountain-- in his wolf cloak, jewel-studded shoes and fancy rings and necklaces -- he also behaved as if he were me,  after a certain fashion. 

I recognised that combination of haughty self-confidence and blind entitlement he so enjoyed putting on display, and it did not agree with me in the least. I had no doubt that hidden under all of his finery and industriousness, Regin was after being king just as a mature wolf is after being the leader of his pack. If he could not alone rule in name, than he certainly would see to it that he would rule alone in practice. 

And just how might he weedle me out of any real governance? No fingernail of doubt remained in my mind that he would. Were my long absence and ignorance reasons I should not be trusted with anything? Would I simply not be informed of important details and then called disinterested and ineffective? Would have to rely on Otr to function at all?

For the first time, wished myself back in the forges. Not in the Lowermost, never there again, but in one where my work and position was clear and uncontested. Where all there was was the anvil, the hammer, the metal and myself. Where there were no distractions or obstacles.

Where I felt comfortable.

Where I felt safe.

All around me my kinsmen were relaxing from their day, and the sound of rolling dice, faint curses and laughs and the murmur of gentle conversation created a background wash to my thoughts. It was as soothing as any domestic sounds could be, and yet I was not soothed.

I can't say how long he stood there observing me or if he had spoken before, but a loud voice made me jump and I jerked in the direction of the noise.

"Wrestle me, brother! I haven't had the opportunity to test the strength of your arm myself. I would like to make up for that lack now."

Regin was standing there, gazing down at me with those piercing eyes of his, a smile visible through his neatly-trimmed beard.

His voice -- as well as his words, I'm sure -- were loud enough to attract the attention of everyone around us. Kinsmen on all sides lifted their eyes from their tankards and pulled themselves away from their conversations.

"But first, take off your torque. Brothers should challenge each other fairly and not rely on magic to win." His smile grew wider and he turned to both the left and the right, bestowing it on anyone near enough to witness it. 

I should never have done it. I should never have consented to arm wrestle Regin.

It was the whispers, the scraping of chair and bench legs as others turned to watch, and the thoughts of his creeping insertion into my rightful place that caused the hobgoblin to leap out of its nest and shove me violently into action.

Before I fully knew what I was doing, I was out of my chair and heading for the nearest table.

Kinsmen made room for us and a small crowd quickly formed, encircling both of us in a ring of watchful, waiting eyes. At the edge of my consciousness, I understood with some irritation that they were all wanting to see me wrestle without the torque. That only added fuel to the fire. Had so many believed the rumours, even when they could see how thick and muscled my arm was for themselves?

Well, then, If they wanted to see a real show of strength, they would get one! All of them and Regin, too.

I took off my torque, dropping it casually next to me as I sat down and slammed my elbow onto the table top.

Regin took up his place across from me and began to fussily arrange himself; first fluffing up his cloak into a padded seat and then, infuriatingly slowly, taking off his rings one by one and stowing them delicately away into an interior pocket of his tunic of fine Southern flax.

The whole time he never took his eyes off me, and I didn't remove mine from him.

Inside, however, I was losing the battle with the dark goblin. I could feel him stretching and itching for a fight. The old aggression I'd spend to long learning to tame and make useful was returning full force. I bashed at it,  but it had crawled up too near the surface and there was little I could do but keep its head shoved firmly down and wait.

I knew I would rip Regin's arm out of its socket the moment the wrestle started and his howls would please me to no end. I am not proud of it, but it's the truth. The aggression in me wanted nothing more than to see my brother in pain.  

Finally, he wriggled his fingers and placed his elbow soundlessly on the table. "Clasp hands, brother, and beat if me. . . if you can."

I clasped his hand and a kinsman stepped forward to cup our hands in his own and count out the start of the contest.

"Three, two, one..."

The hobgoblin reared up as the kinsman's hands released us, ready to do his worst.

A short, sharp blast of intense pain in my testicles that rocketed up my spine and into every fibre of my body caused me to cry out at the same time as Regin slammed my arm down hard onto the table.

The jolt upset goblets and knocked over lit candles that fell onto the floor, rolling under the feet of those standing too close. My face hit the table as I doubled over in agony, grunting and blowing into the wood and stale crumbs of past meals.

All of my concentration was focused on mastering the pain in my manhood, but Regin's voice still cut through the waves of hot pain and enraged me as I sat there, helpless. 

"You all are witnesses!" he cried, his voice full of triumph. "Without his torque, Fafnir is as weak as a new-born! He's been deceiving us about his strength! The stories are true! He is no stronger than any one of us."

I do not know how my kinsmen reacted, as I could not see their faces and, indeed,  at that moment I did not care. I was too angry at Regin, but perhaps even more angry with myself for having fallen such easy prey to his trap. For at that moment,  I could see that that was what it had been.  A trap. I'd been lured into publicly proving my own inadequacy by reacting as immaturely as I would have when I was a boy.  Had I learnt nothing?

Under the throbbing blanket of discomfort, I throttled the hobgoblin who had been so keen to see another blood fight, vowing to never let him out again.

I would not be able to keep that vow, of course.  

Under the circumstances I do not hold it against myself that I was forced to break it when the time came, but it still nettles me that I was not able to keep the goblin under lock and key forever. That he still held the power to overcome me and bend me to its will whenever he truly wanted to. 

Regin continued to speak, damning me and calling me all manner of names, but his voice dwindled as he moved farther away into the darkness of the hall and soon it had faded into nothingness. 

After a while, the flush left my face and the pain had receded to the point where I could rise.

I lifted my head and looked around. Someone had placed a fresh tankard of beer next to my hand, but I was alone. 

My kinsmen had moved off and returned to their own business, none of them looking in my direction as I got up to slowly and stiffly amble to my chamber. The beer did me good, and I was almost to the entrance of the next side tunnel when I paused, remembering my torque.

I turned round and was almost ready to go back and retrieve it, when I saw it wasn't there anymore. The bench where I'd left it was bare, the torque gone.  I couldn't make out the glint of gold anywhere on the floor where it might have accidentally fallen even though I searched it carefully with my eyes. 

I thought it was just as well. I would never have been able to wear it again, even if I had wanted. 

I made my way back to my private chamber, taking sips from the tankard as I went, eventually falling into bed to sleep for a long, long while.

In the days following, I heard any number of rumours whispered from the corners and recesses of the side tunnels, both about my ridiculous weakness and inability to govern as well as of an unfair wrestle. 

I only listened with half an ear, assigning no importance to the words for or against me. There was nothing to be gained in any of it. Regin had already started what I'd seen coming and I knew I lacked the knowledge or connections to stop him. 

For comfort, I immersed myself in memories of the forges. 

I thought of all my years of suffering, of only wanting to return to the Royal Hall, and how gradually that had been replaced by delight in my new-found skills to the point that I'd almost forgotten the world that awaited me. 

Now, I felt a strong desire to gather up a few things and return Underfloor, leaving the kingdom to Otr and Regin. I wanted nothing of it. I did not know this world and it wasn't mine. I felt abandoned and confused.  

Only after days of  pondering the designs and carvings on the ceiling of my chamber, did it dawn on me what was really happening, what the truth really was. 

I had risen, but I had not yet stopped rising.  

I was still in a forge -- a much more pleasant and far more comfortable one than those Underfloor -- but a forge nonetheless. And my my new lesson, I realised with no small amount of astonishment, was not kingship, but brotherhood. 

I may have been free to walk where I pleased, play and marry and visit the UpperWorld, but those were mere privileges. I was chained to a block of stone that was just as massive and unmoving as the one in the Lowermost, and would remain so until I had mastered the lesson and risen to the level of the next forge. 

I was done learning to smith the tangible. That had been my life Underfloor. 

It was now time to move into the forges of the intangible. 

I don't remember if I cried. But I might have.