Loki said nothing in reply at first, finally speaking in a much less amused voice. “The All-Father’s accusation is—”
“Completely in character for Loki,” Thor interrupted, and his tone was, in turn, far more amused than it had been.
Odin rose and pointed an accusatory finger at his adopted son. “Loki, you have endangered the Realm Eternal, both by conspiring with Baugi and his minions and by interfering with Thor’s ability to drive him back.”
“Oh, please.” Now Loki rolled his eyes. “The only thing Baugi endangered in the Realm Eternal was a few of the paving stones in the square outside the Temple of Titans. Surely Asgard’s protectors are well able to handle thirteen trolls without straining themselves. I daresay even Volstagg could have defeated them by his lonesome.” He snorted. “By boring them to death, no doubt. Still, no lasting harm was done.”
Unimpressed by Loki’s excuses, Odin asked, “And does Loki now number precognition among his talents? True, there are none braver than the six who faced the trolls, but every warrior has his end some day, and sometimes that end is ignominious indeed. Today might well have been that day, and it would have been Loki who was responsible. Therefore, it is my judgment—”
“Judgment?” Loki drew himself to his full height in outrage. “I did nothing that warrants—”
“Be silent!” For only the second time, Odin raised his voice, but this time the very walls did rattle from his bellow.
Wisely, Loki remained quiet.
“It is my judgment that you be confined to your keep for a period of one month. Hugin, Munin, and Heimdall will all observe your home with their keen eyes. Should you at any point remove yourself from your quarters, you will find the All-Father’s punishment to be far more severe.”
“Father, I—”
But Odin wished not to hear Loki’s craven plea. “I have spoken! Begone from my presence! Thor, escort your brother to his punishment.”
Thor once again knelt before his liege. “With pleasure, Father.”
Grabbing Loki’s left arm, Thor led the trickster forcibly from the hall. Loki kept looking back at the throne, which Odin had retaken, but Odin’s visage remained hard and unyielding.
The two ravens flitted about the heads of both gods as they departed, making it clear that Loki would not have an unobserved moment for the next several weeks, and that his sentence commenced immediately.
As they left the hall, Loki shook his head, a miserable expression on his countenance. “Absurd. Simply absurd. I play a simple prank, and this is the All-Father’s punishment?”
“I would say, dear brother,” Thor said with a smile as wide as that used by Loki prior to Odin’s judgment, “that you got off easy. Asgard itself was invaded by an enemy. For the All-Father to punish you merely by grounding you, as they say on Midgard, he is being far kinder than perhaps you deserve.”
Loki fixed Thor with a withering look. “You’ll forgive me, dear brother, if I put little stock in what you feel I deserve.”
“What I feel matters little, for it is what the All-Father feels, and what he decrees, that all Asgardians must heed.”
“So I am regularly reminded.” Loki sighed heavily. “Ah, well. The joy of immortality is patience, and a month is but a blink of an eye. I shall occupy myself with some tasks about the keep, and the month will pass ere long. And rest assured, Thor, that my hands shall not be idle come the end of my sentence.”
“And you may rest assured, Loki, that Thor will be ready for whatever foolish plan you might concoct.”
“Speaking of himself in the third person the entire time, no doubt,” Loki muttered as they proceeded to his keep, and the commencement of his exile.
He was sure that his house arrest would go by quickly.
Chapter Two
Loki’s house arrest did not go by quickly.
By the middle of the second day, he felt as if he’d been trapped within the walls of his keep for centuries.
It was all well and good to say to Thor that he had “tasks” about the keep, but in truth all that needed doing was drudge work. He had sprites and other magickal creatures to perform such menial duties for him. Indeed, they were under strict orders to perform them when he was away from the keep. Not only would the second son of Odin never lower himself to re-stock the pantry or dust the furniture or clean the privy or organize his scrolls, he refused to even be present when the magickal creatures indentured to him engaged in those tasks.
“So this is what it’s come to, Father?” Loki cried out to the heavens. He doubted that Odin was listening, though no doubt his ridiculous birds were and would relay his ranting. “Have none of the Aesir even a spot of a sense of humor anymore? The trolls were nothing, a mere diversion for the gods of Asgard. I did Thor and the others a favor by giving them a foe to fight. My brother is never happier than when he’s clumping creatures on the head, and I gave him the opportunity! And, yes, I hid Mjolnir, but let’s face it, Thor has become far too reliant on that silly hammer. What if someday he loses it? Or breaks it? Or someone else becomes ‘worthy’ and takes it from him, as has already happened more than once? I was helping my brother—and yes, playing a bit of a joke, but shouldn’t siblings have japes and jests between them?”
“Talking to yourself, my son?”
Whirling around, Loki saw that Frigga stood in his sitting room, a warm smile on her face.
“Yes, Mother, I am. It’s my only guarantee of intelligent conversation.”
After a moment, he sensed that it was in actuality an astral projection of his adoptive mother. Frigga only very occasionally employed the magickal gifts of her Vanir heritage, but Loki knew that she had plenty of sorcerous talents in her own right. Indeed, it was she who originally encouraged him, as a youth, to pursue such arts when he proved less interested in the art of combat than his adoptive brother.
“My apologies for the state of the keep, Mother, but I wasn’t expecting guests. Odin’s house arrest carried with it the implication that I am to bear it alone.”
“His sentence only applied to you, my son. Any may come see you.”
“Wonderful. I suppose I can expect Thor to come by and gloat at his earliest convenience.”
“Unlikely—and I would not permit it if he wished to.”
Loki blew out a breath. “Thank you, Mother. I don’t suppose you could appeal to Father’s better nature? Ask him for a less onerous sentence than being stuck batting about my home?”
“I’m afraid not, my son.” Frigga’s smile became more wry. “When Odin told me of his punishment, I told him that, if anything, he went too easy on you.”
Drawing himself upright, Loki stared incredulously at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Loki, you took Thor’s hammer from him in the middle of battle against a troll. He could’ve been killed.”
Snorting, Loki said, “I do not have that kind of luck. The fates would never favor me with so easy a death for him.”
“He is your brother, Loki—and he is my son.”
“And he has faced far worse than an out-of-his-depth troll with delusions of grandeur, and survived. I knew well that he would survive this.” He chuckled. “Oh, Mother, the look on his face when he held out his hand and Mjolnir did not fly to his grasp—for that alone, the entire jest was worth it!”
“If it were truly worth it, my son, then you should bear your punishment without complaint.”
Loki opened his mouth and then closed it, as he had no response to that. Damn his mother and her infernal logic …
Frigga moved closer to Loki. Instinctively, he reached out to her, but she, of course, had no substance.
“I do not understand why you must constantly play this game with your brother. The constant torment …”
“I am the god of mischief, Mother. Tormenting my fellows is my very purpose. I could no more cease to ‘play this game,’ as you put it, than Thor could stop producing thunder and lightning, or Heimdall could stop seeing over great distances, or Vo
lstagg could stop eating.”
Giving a mock-shudder, Frigga said, “Truly a black day in the Nine Worlds it would be if Volstagg were to stop eating. Why, our stores might actually overflow!”
Joining in the mocking, Loki added, “The chefs of Asgard might be permitted to sleep, as they will no longer need to work through the night and day to provide enough victuals for the endless stomach of the Lion of Asgard.”
Both mother and son shared a laugh at that, and Loki found himself calm for the first time since Thor hauled him off to see Odin.
“Thank you, Mother.”
“For what?”
“For caring.”
“Oh, my dear, dear son.” Frigga reached out as if to cup Loki’s cheek in her hand, but stopped short, remembering that her presence was eldritch and not physical. “I have always cared. I have always loved you. Indeed, it is because I love you so much that I am so constantly disappointed when you engage in such petty and dangerous frivolity as this.”
Loki had flinched at her insubstantial gesture, and then shook his head and moved away, the jocular moment now gone. His voice harder and more distant, he said, “There are those who would say that Loki is not capable of returning the love you espouse for him.”
Frigga, however, refused to follow Loki into his suddenly more somber mood, the wry smile returning instead. “There are those who say that Loki’s tendency to speak of himself in the third person shows an excess of pretension. Regardless, I have never cared for the gossip of others. I know both my sons, and know full well how they feel—regardless of whether or not they may express those feelings.”
Turning to face his mother once more, Loki said, “Regardless, Mother, even as you express your disappointment, it is leavened with the expression of your love. That has not gone unnoticed.” Again turning away, he added, “From the All-Father, all I perceive is the disappointment.”
“His disappointment is only so great because his love is equally great. I know it is hard to see. Odin rules all of Asgard, and the weight of that responsibility is heavy indeed. But it makes it difficult to show his true feelings.”
Loki turned and gave his mother a half-smile. “Somehow I suspect that the thunder god never doubts the affection Father has for him.”
“Odin sentenced Thor to live life as a crippled mortal with no knowledge of his heritage. I believe that Thor may have wavered in his belief of Odin’s love for him when the deception was revealed.”
Shaking his head, Loki regarded Frigga with wonder. “You do have quite the gift, Mother.”
“Thank you, my son.” Frigga’s image started to fade a bit. “I must leave you now, and tend to the throne room.”
Loki frowned. That was Odin’s domain solely. “Why the throne room?”
“Only to keep an eye on things. Asgard is quiet since the trolls were driven away, and Odin has grown restless and decided to go on one of his—excursions.”
At that, Loki rolled his eyes. “Let me guess—he has disguised himself as an old man with one eye? It amazes me that he ever fools anyone when he goes on those—excursions, as you call them.”
Frigga shrugged. “He enjoys pretending to be someone else. It is enough for him to remove his royal armor and his eyepatch and put on a battered old cloak. His disguises need not be as clever physically as your illusions, my son. Just by being an ordinary old man on horseback, people do not believe he is the All-Father. After all, would the ruler of Asgard travel alone on the road to Jotunheim?”
“That depends upon the horse. Is he riding Sleipnir?”
“Of course.” Frigga chuckled. “The horse looks like an ordinary mount to the casual observer.”
“Well, there you go—I have never casually observed anything. It is how I have thrived all these centuries.”
“In any event, my son, I must go.” Frigga gave Loki one last, loving look. “Be well, Loki.”
Even as the astral image faded, Loki said, “That will be very difficult while I’m trapped in this house!”
Though he was glad of his mother’s company for the brief time she was present, it served only to exacerbate his loneliness now that she was gone. With a sigh, he retired to the pantry. The talk of Volstagg’s appetite had made him hungry, and his latest delivery of the golden apples of immortality had arrived that morning.
Idunn, the goddess in charge of the apples, took her duties seriously, including delivering a supply of the apples in her care to each of the Aesir every month. Every god of Asgard, regardless of his or her status within the realm, was given the same delivery. Idunn’s neutrality was as strong as that of the fates, and even Loki did not dare challenge it, for that was the one way to risk being removed from her delivery list. He could anger Thor, Odin, Balder, Frigga, Sif, the Warriors Three, Heimdall, or anyone else in the Nine Worlds, and Idunn would care not. But if he dared anger her?
Of course, it might have been enjoyable for the trickster to do something to affect all of the apples …
Loki’s musing on this possible plan of action was cut short upon his entry into the pantry by a simply horrible smell. He’d not encountered a stench this awful since his visit to the Realm Below to convince Baugi to invade Asgard.
But trolls had yet to be introduced to the concept of bathing, while Loki prided himself on his fastidiousness.
So he was appalled to see that the pantry had gone to seed. Leftover foodstuffs from the first day of his house arrest had not yet been disposed of, dishes and cutlery had not yet been cleaned and put away, and flies buzzed about, one flying right in Loki’s face.
Swatting away the insect, Loki immediately summoned the sprites who were tasked with the keeping of his keep.
Three tiny, winged, green-skinned creatures appeared before him, flitting about the pantry alongside the flies.
“Speak, speak, Loki Laufeyson!”
“Tell us how we may service the trickster god!”
“The god of mischief commands us!”
“Yes,” Loki said impatiently, “I do. And have. Your job is to keep my home neat and clean, yet look at this place!”
The sprites flew around the pantry, noses wrinkled, and then all alighted before him side by side.
“We do as we are bid!”
“Clean the pantry we shall!”
“As soon as next you depart!”
Loki winced. He rarely was in his keep for more than a few days at a time, as there was always some new scheme to conceive, some campaign of mischief to enact. Therefore, the sprites had been under strict instruction to do their domestic chores only when Loki himself did not have to witness it. Under normal circumstances, Loki’s comings and goings provided ample opportunity for the sprites to heed his directive.
But Odin’s house arrest had changed things, and he needed to adjust his commands to the sprites accordingly.
Striding to the burlap sack containing this month’s supply of apples, Loki said, “I have been forced to remain in the keep for the time being, so for now, you may perform your duties regardless of whether or not I am present.”
The sprites all exchanged nervous glances with each other.
“If that is what the trickster desires …”
“If truly Loki is sure …”
“We will, of course, do as the second son of Odin demands …”
Loki shook his head as he pulled one of the golden apples from the sack. “Yes. Yes, you will. And do it quickly!” He took a huge bite out of the apple to emphasize his point, swatted another fly that flew in front of his face, and left the pantry in a huff.
At this point, Loki was fed up with everything. With Odin and his arbitrary punishments meted out against his son, who simply did what he was supposed to do as god of mischief. With Thor and his dull wits and insistence on dragging Loki to Odin in the first place. With Baugi and his minions, who couldn’t even put up a decent fight against Thor and his idiot friends, even though Thor himself was relieved of his greatest weapon. With those friends, who insisted on joining
Thor; had Balder, Sif, and the Warriors Three minded their own business, the trolls would have trounced Thor royally. With the sprites and their tiresome literal-mindedness, leading to a most filthy pantry. Even with his mother, who could have come in person and could have stayed longer.
Entering his bedroom, Loki fell more than sat on his bed and took a few more bites of his apple.
Once he consumed all but the core of the apple, he tossed it aside, hoping as he did so that the sprites would know to clean it up even though he remained. They might well have only followed his instruction with regard to the pantry and let the rest of the keep go to pot.
And then another fly came in and settled on his nose.
He swatted the fly, and then sighed, wondering if he should go back to the pantry and instruct the sprites to specifically get rid of the flies.
Then he wondered if he could cast a spell that would send all the flies to wherever Odin was disguised and riding Sleipnir.
And then, suddenly, it came to him.
Throwing his head back, Loki laughed long and hard.
It was perfect. Even Heimdall would be fooled.
First, Loki changed into his bedclothes. True, it was midday, but he would always be able to defend the notion of an afternoon nap as resulting from the boredom of house arrest.
Thor Page 3