The night was quiet as Tyr moved slowly over the rough ground in the clear space beside the driveway. He was keeping Loki in front of him as they circled around in the small clearing bounded by the dark forest on one side and the driveway on the other. The smooth pavement of the road surface was littered with the remains of the large group of Nithavellir who had set up the ambush of the Aesir guards patrolling the Falkor's mansion.

Something about that didn't sit well in Tyr's mind but he couldn't stop to think about it now.

Right now he had to focus on his ancient enemy. Loki had been the cause of too much trouble and strife in Tyr's life and Tyr wasn't ready to let him get to Astyr as well. She was, at this point, all he had left. Tyr was ready to fight to the death to protect her, and he wasn't planning on it being his death, either.

Tyr wasn't about to take victory for granted, though. What Loki lacked in power, he made up for in strength; and while Tyr was experienced, Loki was cunning.

Even now, Loki was carefully sizing Tyr up, looking for ways to gain an advantage. The darkness was going to be both an ally and a foe in this fight; a lot of surprises could be hidden until they were delivered with devastating results. But that worked both ways.

Both were wearing dark clothes: Loki in black leather pants with a black T-shirt and army boots; Tyr in casual, yet finely tailored slacks with a dark navy cashmere sweater and leather shoes that had been made for him. Only Tyr's shocking mane of white hair stood out from the heavy shadows that enveloped them.

Tyr stepped carefully, keeping his eyes on Loki's shoulders. He knew from his many previous bouts of hand-to-hand combat that any move that the enemy attempted would be given away by the set of the shoulders first.

Sure enough, Loki's right shoulder dipped down and back just a second before he charged at Tyr. Loki, being half Jotnar, knew he couldn't hope to beat Tyr with power so he was starting with a physical assault.

Tyr held his ground until the last moment before stepping lightly to his left and grabbing Loki's arm as it slipped through the air where Tyr's head had just been. Tyr wrapped his fingers around Loki's wrist and brought his left arm around to smash it into Loki's elbow, popping it out of its joint and driving Loki down into the dirt.

Tyr wanted to end this quickly and get back to Astyr; he felt no obligation to give Loki a sporting chance. Loki had been given thousands of years to put a stop to this and had brought himself to this place to be handed his final judgment. Tyr couldn't even begin to count all the lives that had been destroyed by the foul creature in front of him and he felt a brief stab of guilt for not doing more to rein him in, despite the council's long-standing policy of non-interference. That policy was coming to an end here and now.

As Tyr twisted Loki's arm around to subdue him, Loki loosed a jolt of energy into Tyr's hand that caused him to lose his grip enough for Loki to wrench his arm free. Loki quickly used his freedom to brace his good arm on the ground and sweep his legs around in an attempt to bring Tyr down, but Tyr easily jumped over his legs.

Loki was well-aware that this fight could only end in his death if he failed and his moves were fueled by desperate fear as much as by the powerful muscles of his large frame. He also knew that Tyr would be able to recuperate from almost any injury in so short a time as to make it seem instantaneous. Loki couldn't waste his energy or time by inflicting less than serious wounds on his skilled opponent. But knowing that and being able to do it were two different things.

The two of them fought furiously to get a hold on the other, to bring their opponent down or to cause pain severe enough to stop the other long enough to give them the upper hand but despite the differences in their statures and natures, they were evenly matched on the physical level. The only way Tyr was going to be able to end this quickly was through the use of his power. He had to get a hand on Loki's skin so that he could shock his heart and stop it from beating.

That was proving to be much harder than it seemed. Loki was twisting and punching to stay free of Tyr's grip and he even drove his forehead into Tyr's face once, hard enough to cause shimmers to dance in his eyes, giving Loki a brief moment to back away.

They began the slow circling yet again, with Tyr matching Loki's steps and keeping Loki right in front of him. He didn't want to wait and let Loki open an offensive. Tyr pushed off of the ground and twisted as he jumped over Loki in attempt to get behind him, but Loki saw what was happening and turned around, bringing his arm up and chopping it down onto Tyr's neck just as Tyr landed. The blow was so heavy that it drove Tyr down to the right, making his right arm go numb for a second and leaving him vulnerable. Loki took advantage of that by grabbing Tyr's head with his other hand and driving Tyr's head down to meet with Loki's knee.

There was a sharp crack and blood began to flow from Tyr's broken nose. He knew it would stop right away but the pain forced him to close his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to let Loki move away while he was unable to keep track of him so he grabbed Loki's leg and held on tightly as Loki tried to jerk it free. There was no way to get at the bare skin beneath the heavy denim that was tucked into the boots so Tyr used a blast of energy to burn it away.

Loki screamed in agony and fell to the ground so he could use his free leg to kick Tyr away. Tyr took a hard kick to his back and rolled forward to prevent Loki from landing another.

Tyr wasted no time in getting up to his feet but before he could turn around there was a shout from Grima, who was standing off to the side with Frey watching the fight.

"Look out!" she yelled, "He's got a knife!"

Tyr ducked and threw himself to the side, rolling as quickly as he could to get out of range. Loki had pulled a large hunting knife from a hidden sheath in his boot and had apparently given up on honor after deciding the pain Tyr had inflicted was more than enough.

"Do you want my sword?" Frey called out to him.

"No," Tyr replied as he quelled a surge of anger at Loki for dragging him into this and then being too cowardly to do it the right way.

Loki let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, the great Tyr doesn't need weapons, does he? You didn't use a weapon when you captured my son, but that cost you an arm, didn't it? Let's see what this battle will take."

With that, he jumped at Tyr with his left hand outstretched and his right hand, holding the knife, held by his side with the sharp steel held backwards against his wrist with the cutting edge facing out. He swung around just at the last minute in a dangerous, slicing arc. He tried to get a hold on Tyr's head so he could bring the blade up and across his neck but Tyr had anticipated this and turned the move to his favor.

Instead of moving, Tyr held his position and let Loki grab his hair in the back, his neck muscles strained to keep his head from being forced back. As Loki's other hand came up, Tyr brought up his own hand and grabbed Loki's wrist, twisting it down and around, driving the long steel blade down into Loki's soft abdomen.

Tyr held him tightly and smiled cruelly as Loki's eyes widened in shock.

"You deserve this, Loki." Tyr said softly as he pushed a shocking bolt of energy through his hand into Loki's body, stopping his heart.

Tyr lowered Loki's rigid body down to the cold ground and laid him down with his eyes staring up at the dark shroud of star-lit sky above.

"Hurry and take off his head before he comes to," Frey said as he approached holding out the hilt of his sword for Tyr to take.

"No," Tyr said tiredly, "I'm going to do this the old-fashioned way."

Grima gave a soft gasp and laid her hand on Tyr's shoulder in comfort. "You don't have to do that, Tyr. You've finished this; it's enough."

Her pleas went ignored as Tyr lifted Loki's head off the ground. He was kneeling beside his fallen enemy as he slipped his right hand under his neck and placed his left on Loki's forehead. He wrenched his hands forcefully in opposite directions as he pulled Loki's head away from his body with a wet ripping sound and a loud crack as the bones of his spine splintered and came apart under the strain of the pressure Tyr was putting into the move.

Blood oozed out of the gaping wound and pooled under the lifeless body that Tyr was looking at in confusion.

As soon as the head had separated from the body, they had both started changing. The dark hair had changed to a dirty auburn color. The long pointed nose had shrunk down to a short snub and the lips became smaller and fleshier.

The body, too, had shrunk, becoming shorter and wirier with dirty, ragged clothes in place of the sleek leather that Loki had been wearing.

"Who is that?" Grima asked in alarm. "Why would someone pretend to be Loki?"

Frey bent down close to get a better view of the grisly head that Tyr was still holding onto. "I believe his name is, or was, Ormar." Frey said in disbelief. "He's Vanir. I have no idea what he's doing here, though."

Tyr's head popped up in alarm; the idea he had thought of earlier came back to him in a new light. "He's here to distract us." He said with a growl of anger and fear. "He wanted us away from the house, away from Astyr, and like a fool, I fell into his trap!"

Just then they heard the popping sound of a small caliber firearm being fired from the back yard. Tyr was on his feet and running as fast as his exhausted body could carry him with Frey and Grima right behind.

Copyright 2011 Molly Rogers

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