Tap. Tap. Tap.

Large blue eyes with long blonde lashes fluttered open. Perfectly shaped ruby red lips parted with a discontented sigh. Elegant features drew down in consternation, enveloped in the soundless darkness and warmth of night.

The Goddess Freya shifted irritably under the perfumed down comforter. Awakened again at nine minutes after one in the morning. Even the soft luxury of her large bed couldn't soothe the troubled, lovely lady. Somehow, somewhere, the fall of mystical hammers had awakened her again, for the ninth night in a row.

Crossly, Freya threw off her bedcovers and rose, gesturing the candles scattered around the room to magically light. Her long, flowing blonde hair cascaded down her naked back, tumbling into an artfully arranged hairstyle that a mortal woman would have spent hours achieving. Stretching luxuriously, the Goddess reveled momentarily in the freedom of her complete nudity. Perfectly formed and balanced, the Lady practically glowed with healthy sensuality. Despite being woken yet again, Freya smiled to herself as she felt her flawless body come fully awake.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“By Yggdrasil,” exclaimed Freya furiously, “It's not enough to be awakened in the dead of night! Am I to be plagued by that wretched tapping even while awake?”

Listening carefully, the great Lady realized the tapping wasn't a true sound but rather a magical projection impressed on her mind. Her eyes smoldered as the Goddess realized someone had dared to invade her thoughts with a sending. Quick to anger, the buxom blonde deity stormed about her bedroom, stamping her way to her wardrobe. Gathering up her forest green cloak with the soft golden lining, Freya wrapped it around her shoulders and fastened the gold clasp at her throat. The long cloak fell to her knees, yet opened to reveal her slim, large breasted body when she lifted her arms to flip her golden mane out from under the tailored garment.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Freya drew on each of her white-furred boots. The soft hide lining the boots molded to her shapely legs, fitting her perfectly. Standing again, the Lady belted on her great sword. The sword belt encircled her tiny waist, the soft, buttery leather slipping down around the upper curves of her hips. Still nude beneath the cloak, the Goddess was as dressed as she ever was. Pausing only a moment to admire her perfection in a large mirror, Freya stormed out of her bedroom and through her shining hall.

Leaving Sessrumnir quickly behind, the Goddess slipped her magical falcon cloak over her other garments. Enwrapped within its miraculous feathers, the Goddess transformed into a fleet falcon. Quickly winging across Asgard and over Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge down to Midgard, the Lady flew a course both straight and true. Divining the source of the incessant tapping, Freya flew swiftly.

Over a dense forest, she flew, faster than deer can run. Over a barren plain, towards the distant mountains her falcon form carried her. Keen in her objective, the fuming blonde warrior pressed forward at ever-greater speed. Arrowing between craggy peaks, the divine falcon sped deep into the dark, forbidding mountains at the edge of the world. Snow and fierce winds battered the sacred bird, striving to knock her from her course. Diving forward, the great falcon descended to land at the mouth of a shadowy, dank hole leading into the side of the mountain.

Transforming back into her beautiful self, Freya stood as still as the stones around her, listening intently. Still she could hear the distant tapping that had haunted her for the past nine evenings, filling her dreams with a deep longing she still couldn't fathom. Pulling her soft green cloak around her chilled flesh, the Lady stepped forward into the blackness of the earth.

Padding forward in her furry boots, Freya made no sound at all, seeming to glide over the uneven rock like a ghost. Fearlessly, the Queen of the Valkyries descended deep into the earth, following the rough-hewn stone tunnel towards the source of the tapping. The deeper she went, the warmer the air became. Ahead of her, the tunnel filled with the flickering reddish light of a forge. Flinging back her traveling cloak, the proud beauty walked open and exposed into the realm of the dwarves.

Pausing in the mouth of the tunnel, Freya looked into the rough smithy of the four dwarves, the Brisings brothers. After the darkness of the long tunnel, the brightness of the furnace dazzled her eyes. The great roaring blaze filled the center of the cavern, surrounded by huge anvils. Many hammers, tongs, and other tools lay scattered about. Racks of swords, spears and double-headed war axes filled one wall. Shelves overflowing with loose gems, gold bars, silver wire and odd bits of platinum lined another wall. An opening led away from the cavern towards other rooms beyond.

As her vision cleared, Freya studied the four short, heavy-bodied dwarves. The fellows were heavily muscled, thick of body and barely 4 feet tall. Each had a heavy beard and thick, unkempt hair. Covered in soot and ash, the dwarves looked like coarse stone statues brought to life. One of the dwarves tapped a shining object with a tiny hammer, shaping the metalwork with infinite care. Freya felt each tap of that hammer deep inside her body, resonating within her heart.

She gasped softly.

The hammer-wielding dwarf froze. Each of the four little men peered up at the tunnel entrance, seeing their lovely visitor for the first time. Scrambling, the dwarves slammed into each other, each trying to be the first to round the forge. Clumsily, the four lined up before her, each bowing in turn.

“Great Lady,” said one, “You can only be the beautiful Freya, Mistress of Magic and Lady of the Vanir.”

“Indeed, master dwarf. I am Freya. And who are each of you?”

“Beg pardon, Lady, “ stammered the dwarf, his eyes flickering between her face and her exposed chest, “but I'm Dvalin. These here are my brothers, Alfrigg, Grerr and Berling.” Each of the little men bowed again as he was introduced. “What brings you here to our humble forge, Goddess?”

“Oh, I think you know, Dvalin. Night after night you've awakened me, calling to me with your magics.” Freya glared down at the brutish dwarves and put a hand on her sword hilt. “So tell me why I shouldn't slay you all now, my fine dwarves?”

Dvalin fell back, allowing Alfrigg to take up the lead. He quavered, “Please Vanadis, we are simply forging a necklace of great beauty. You mustn't blame us if the forging has called to you. You are Freya, the Goddess of Beauty after all.”

“Then show me this fine necklace you're making, Alfrigg,” purred Freya, thawing a tiny amount at the flattery.

Alfrigg slammed into Berling in his haste, allowing Grerr to rush by him to the forge. The dwarf return, mutely holding up a necklace spun from the finest pure gold, set with perfect teardrops of amber. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry the Lady had ever seen – far outshining anything she herself owned. Instantly Freya's heart filled with lust, craving the stunning necklace like men craved her. Her breathing became labored, her bare breasts heaving in the firelight. The dwarves nudged each other, licking their lips.

“You like it Miss Freya?” ventured Grerr. “It is our finest work – the Brisingamen.”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, “Yes, I like it very much. I'll give you a thousand weight of purest gold for it. And a thousand weight of silver.” The dwarves just grinned, staring at her exposed figure through the opening in her cloak. “Please, I must have it.”

“Gold and silver are not our price,” smiled Dvalin.

The Goddess dropped to her knees, bringer her face level with theirs. “You are fine craftsmen, Dvalin. Please – tell me your price. I must have the Brisingamen!” Aflame with lust for the gorgeous necklace, Freya stretched out her hand so her fingertips brushed the dazzling gem at the center of the piece.

“We want you, Freya. All of you! We want you to be our wife.”

“But… but…” sputtered the Goddess. “But I don't want to live underground forever!” She stroked the glittering necklace, biting her plump lower lip, her eyes wet. A single tear slid down her flawless cheek, dripping to the ground. A small droplet of amber solidified where her tear splashed.

The four dwarves huddled together away from the kneeling Goddess. After a muttered conversation, the four little men lined up once again around the nubile Lady. “Okay,” offered Dvalin. “You don't have to stay forever. But you have to live for a day and a night with each of the four of us as our wife. At the end of the four days, you can leave with Brisingamen, our greatest work.

Freya gazed longingly at the perfect golden necklace. She thought hard, wavering, feeling her lust pulse deep inside her. Finally, she sighed deeply and looked at the four dwarves eagerly facing her. “All right, fellows,” she breathed throatily. “I'll sleep with each of you. But you have to bathe! And I'll need my own bedroom for my… husband and me. Okay?

“Yes!” caroled the dwarves enthusiastically. They pulled the Goddess to her feet, leading her eagerly through the back wall of their smithy, into a long corridor. At the far end they passed through an ornately carved stone doorway into an extravagant bedroom. The walls were polished marble, the floor a pale jade. The room was lit with softly glowing magical lights. Silver and gold fittings decorated the large bed, piled high with soft furs and fluffy pillows. Comfortable chairs surrounded a low table set out with fabulous tidbits and exotic wines.

Freya began laughing gaily. “I see you fellows have been planning this for some time,” she teased. The dwarves blushed darker than the ruddy Rhinegold itself. Touched by their regard despite herself, Freya gracefully removed her dusky green cloak and fierce sword and posed, arms akimbo. “All right gentlemen,” she purred, “who's my first suitor?”

After the inevitable brawl cooled a bit, Freya laughingly sorted the dwarves into a line. She had the fellows cast lots, which ended with Berling first, Dvalin last and their brothers in the middle. Sending the dwarves off to scrub themselves clean, the Goddess settled back on the bed, removing her fur boots.

Over the following days, Freya delighted each dwarf in turn. The brothers catered to her every whim, filling her with delicious food and drink, plying her with jewelry, fancy combs and exotic fragrances, and gifting her with their knowledge and magic. In turn, Freya was true to her pact, treating each of the men to the full ecstasy of her being.

When finally the four days had passed, Freya knelt again before the semicircle of brothers and Dvalin fastened the magnificent Brisingamen around her neck. Speechless, Freya kissed each of them in turn, hugging them to her breasts gratefully. Rising, she retrieved her cloak, sword and boots, making a spectacle of dressing for their pleasure.

When she finally left them, the Brisings were filled with love and happiness. Freya touched her prize necklace, feeling it's purity and beauty augmented by the joy she and its makers had shared. Flying away as a falcon, the Goddess of Beauty soared contented, knowing she would always be loved.