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A Hammer to Build

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One day Thor saw a picture of Tony at an anvil.

His face brightened like a light-bulb, “Tony Stark, if it is not too much to ask, I wish to learn the art of blacksmithing!”

Tony had no idea what the big lug was thinking, psychologically understanding outer-space vikings was not part of his repertoire. Nonetheless he shrugged a shoulder, “Yeah, sure why not.”

That Saturday Tony took the God to one of his properties. It had an outdoor forge.

“… Um, big guy… Why do you have your hammer?”

“Mjolnir has both the power to destroy and to build. My father told me so.”

Thor proceeded to accidentally shatter an anvil. Tony saw it coming ten light years away.

The billionaire pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. I was afraid that might happen. One sec. I need to make a call…”

“HEEEY T’challa! My favourite kitty cat! How much would a pure vibranium anvil cost? Just curious… No I’m not joking. I’m seriously asking…. It’s for Thor. Big guy wants to learn how to be a blacksmith. He’s using Mjolnir of all things so we gotta pull out all the stops……. I don’t know why either! But if he makes anything nice I’ll send you a photo…………. Cool. That includes shipping and tax right?… Okay I’ll have Pepper transfer the money……. WOW. That soon? I owe you one. Seriously you’re beautiful. Thank you. You’re going make a Norse God very happy…. Heh. Bye T’challa. Thanks again.”

Tony smirked, “One PURE vibranium anvil will be arriving at Avenger Tower in a week.”

It took a dozen lessons for Thor to get the hang of everything. Tony shared all he could before he left the Norse God to his own devices. A few months passed and soon Tony Stark completely forgot about the whole thing. He was a busy guy after all.


T’challa never did ask for photos.



Tony looked up at the clink of metal. It was a tiny sound but it sung and wavered like a tuning fork, though it lacked the sharpness. It was soothing. Gentle.

Thor stood before him smiling.


He was quiet.




“I forged one for each of my friends.”

Tony picked up the flat piece of metal, it was roughly an inch in diameter.

It was a flat platinum acorn. The edges were soft and rounded, the nut had a gorgeous wood-like grain and the cap was made of many interwoven ribbons of metal. It looked like a tiny delicate basket made of Celtic knots. It even had a cute stubby little stem.

It was utterly beautiful. It belonged in the MET, in the Louvre, under museum lights where visitors could “ooh” and “aah” at it. It did not belong on Tony’s messy ass worktable.

And of course Tony’s mouth ran ahead of his mind, “You… made this with Mjolnir?”

Thor grinned, “Indeed.”

Tony’s brain would have broken if he tried to figure out how that giant metal brick-on-a-stick managed to forge such a delicate thing but he couldn’t think straight. Tony turned the little metal acorn over in his hand, his eyes raking over every detail.

“I… wow. The level of your workmanship is absolutely incredible.” Suddenly Tony remembered himself and looked up into Thor’s eyes and he breathed, “…Thank you.”

Somehow those two little words did not feel adequate enough to express his gratitude. Tony Stark was not used to getting handmade gifts, especially ones of this quality.

“I purposely made it flat so it can easily be kept on your person, in a pocket or wallet perhaps. You will never lose it but if you manage to misplace it then you will always find it by the next morning. It is my will and I forged it into the metal with every strike of my hammer.”




“I made plenty. There is one for every Avenger and our friends, though I must present it to them personally.” Thor beamed, “The oak nut… or the acorn as you Americans prefer to call it. It is a sacred symbol that I favour. It represents life and immortality. This will bring you luck.”

Tony was at an utter loss for words.

Thor went on, “Yours in particular is very strong as you are the first to be given this charm.”

Tony’s brain completely broke from the weight of that sentence, “Wha- ME. You- THIS? Before Loki?”

Thor was surprised, “Of course! I would not have been able to do this without your help,” he said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You were the one who made this possible. Without your patience, your generosity and your guidance, I would not have been able to make these tokens. Our shield brother T’challa shall be the second recipient and then I shall present one to my brother.”

Oh god. Tony’s eyes widened comically. He twitched.

He looked down at the acorn. It was an impossibly beautiful thing: this little piece of art that Thor spent the last few months creating with his own bare hands… all this for his friends. It was a quiet token of personal protection.

And this one… this one was made just for him.

Tony felt like he was punched through the chest. Total system failure. His operational system was NOT built to handle this. WHY wasn’t the ARC reactor protecting his heart from emotional shrapnel? Because ding-ding! POW! NOOOO MERCY. Finish him! K-O. HOLY SHIT, his SOUL just curled up into fetal position and DIED from emotional overload. Go dig a grave! Throw him in and bury him before he does something stupid! QUICK! Do it before he-





Thor was laughing. Tony was buried face first into the gloriously firm man pecs of a Norse God. They were man-hugging. Thor slapped him on the back. It hurt and the hurt felt GLORIOUS.

Tony couldn’t stop swearing and babbling, “What the HELL do they feed you in Asgard? Goddamnit. Thor. Goddamnit. You’re just heart and muscles. That’s all you’re made of. FIFTY MJOLNIRS. You’re worthy enough to lift FIFTY of them. All in one go. You could juggle them and join the circus.


Fucking hell. Thor.”