Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, King of Asgard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pirateangelbaby) wrote2020-07-09 10:12 pm
pirateangelbaby) wrote2020-07-09 10:12 pm
A Visitor To The Garden [for tr1ckortreat]
Above the arctic circle, it is the height of summer in Asvera, which is to say that this fine cloudless day is a mere thirteen degrees Celsius, despite the sun refusing to set for the entire last month. It makes it easy to lose track of time without sunset to mark the passing of days, and has caused no end to sleeping difficulties among the Asgardians who now call this village home, but it also has its benefits.
The smaller islands now sport towers of Asgardian and Wakandan designs, linked to their fellows by softly glowing bridges tall enough to permit the passage of fishing boats beneath. The bridge that links the archipelago to the mainland is concrete and stone, and physically painted with rainbow colors, a pale imitation of the Bifrost that had once linked Asgard to the rest of the Nine Realms. There's no golden palace to be seen, nor much of any gold at all, really, except for the occasional painted rune on the doorposts of a home.
Where once there was a football pitch, now there is a grain field, planted deep with oats and rye and wheat. Thor's house was once a lighthouse keeper's cottage, perched on a rocky bluff at the farthest reaches of the largest island overlooking the vast sea to the southwest. A Bifrost rune is etched into the rock between them, the king's preferred landing zone for visitors to the village, at least those who arrive by PINpoint. The house itself is fairly plain, with little to indicate that it's the home of the Allfather save for the pair of ravens currently perched at the peak of the roof. One of them calls out at the arrival of a newcomer, and Thor quickly opens the door to greet him. His hair has been brushed and braided back, his beard plaited along his cheeks and chin, and with the eyepatch in place he might pass for a much younger Odin if not for the smile on his lips and the decidedly Midgardian-style sweater and jeans he's dressed in. "Loki! You made it."
The smaller islands now sport towers of Asgardian and Wakandan designs, linked to their fellows by softly glowing bridges tall enough to permit the passage of fishing boats beneath. The bridge that links the archipelago to the mainland is concrete and stone, and physically painted with rainbow colors, a pale imitation of the Bifrost that had once linked Asgard to the rest of the Nine Realms. There's no golden palace to be seen, nor much of any gold at all, really, except for the occasional painted rune on the doorposts of a home.
Where once there was a football pitch, now there is a grain field, planted deep with oats and rye and wheat. Thor's house was once a lighthouse keeper's cottage, perched on a rocky bluff at the farthest reaches of the largest island overlooking the vast sea to the southwest. A Bifrost rune is etched into the rock between them, the king's preferred landing zone for visitors to the village, at least those who arrive by PINpoint. The house itself is fairly plain, with little to indicate that it's the home of the Allfather save for the pair of ravens currently perched at the peak of the roof. One of them calls out at the arrival of a newcomer, and Thor quickly opens the door to greet him. His hair has been brushed and braided back, his beard plaited along his cheeks and chin, and with the eyepatch in place he might pass for a much younger Odin if not for the smile on his lips and the decidedly Midgardian-style sweater and jeans he's dressed in. "Loki! You made it."
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"Thor. Of course. How could I turn down a visit to such a beautiful place?"
Even the cool air that invaded Loki's nostrils was fresh and had the salty hint of the sea riding along on the coastal air currents. It truly was a rugged and impressive place. Perfect for a strong King like Thor. Now thoughts turned to his brother, as Loki looked around, wondering what he was in for regarding Thor's green-fingered hobby.
"You still dress like a shabby mortal, brother."
His mouth twitched with a knowing smile and his eyes were full of mischief. Of course it was a light tease, as Loki had always poked fun at his brother's choice of clothing aside from their Asgardian garb. Loki himself was dressed in his usual lighter tunic and linen pants, since he did not need to wear his heavy leather when visiting his brother.
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“The greenhouse is on the other side of the village,” Thor explains. “I sent the children to a friend’s home so I could give you the tour. They’ll be back before supper, if you want to stay and meet them.” He’s not the same Loki that is their adoptive father, of course, but most of them had been old enough to understand the concept of Loki having a twin of sorts. “Do you want anything before we set out? I have ale and mead, and coffee.”
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"I do not always lounge in my armour and cape, Thor. I do have my jerkins and linen pants also."
The fact that he needed to iterate such things to his brother caused Loki to scoff slightly at the ridiculousness of it all. Even now they were still bickering about clothes and petty things. Some things would never change.
Of course Loki had come to hear of his counter part and the children he had come to adopt. It was rather humbling knowing that he could look after children and be a father figure. Even if it wasn't himself, the ability was still there locked away.
"Well, I thank you for offering me this tour. Will I be finding any overly-large vegetables, Thor? Any hammer shaped ones?"
He was teasing and slid an arm around his brother's broad shoulders, squeezing his large bicep with his fingers. As for the offer of a drink, it was welcome since the journey had been a rather long one and Loki was thirsty.
"Mead will do fine."
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This one is pricklier than the one that Thor has come to know, and it's not difficult to tell them apart. Thor gives him a hearty squeeze around the shoulders before dropping his arm and opening the door. He's not going to justify that crack about his gardening with a dignified response. "Well, come on in then."
Thor's house is a modest affair, especially compared to the golden palace of Gladsheim where Odin's sons spent their youth. The walls are painted a creamy offwhite, decorated here and there with woven tapestries or framed photos of space taken by the Hubble telescope. Most of the furniture is old and well-worn, but still in good shape, and the television in the living room predates Midgard's modern tendency to make electronics as thin as possible. The bookshelves hold a few keepsakes from Thor's days with the Avengers, as well as an assortment of children's books, which are one of the few places in his home that appear wiped clean of dust from constant use. A few toys are scattered on the rugs that cover the hardwood floors, and a thicker book that looks as though it may be a textbook on Earth history. A few empty beer bottles are collected on the coffee table next to a potted plant, but other than that, there is very little clutter.
Mounted on the wall over the mantel, on a pair of slightly crooked brackets, is an enormous battleaxe that looks dwarvish-made if not for the strangely organic wood of the handle. This too is free of dust, the metal never in need of polishing. Mjolnir is nowhere to be seen.
Thor moves to the kitchen, a mere half-wall separating it from the living room, and taps a keg on the counter to pour a glass of mead for himself and his brother. It's the strong stuff, brewed by the dwarves and far more potent than anything humans could make. "Here you are," he says, handing over the glass, a faint pink flush to his cheeks. "Sorry I don't have proper steins yet. A lot of this stuff was, um, inherited from the previous owner."
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"I am happy with whatever you will offer me as long as it holds the liquid and doesn't contain any holes."
He offered Thor a smirk and took the glass, drinking from it with a small sip. Not bad. It did taste like mead and was rather sweet. Of course Thor would have a whole cask sitting atop the counter. It made sense because the man was Asgardian. It was what his people did. Loki, however, was far too busy taking it all in.
"You have a good home here, Thor. Very homely. I have to ask though....where is Mjolnir? It's unlike you to hide your hammer away."
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Talk of Mjolnir is, perhaps strangely, a lot more agreeable to Thor than any questions on why he might be anxious over his drinkware. “Destroyed, I’m afraid. The remains are in the administrative building; we’re going to set up a museum of sorts once we have the funds and we’re better established.” He nods towards the axe, absently flexing the fingers of his metal hand. “That’s Stormbreaker.”
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Loki's gaze wandered over the rather large and ornate axe, admiring the intricate detail and work that obviously went in to making such a noble weapon. Judging by the look and appearance of the blade, it was dwarven. It had to be.
"It is a mighty weapon and dwarven made if I'm not mistaken?"
The dwarves made the best weapons and Loki knew that better than most, having two daggers in his own possession which were wrought by dwarven sweat and blood. How much did Thor miss Mjolnir though? Loki knew how much love his brother had invested into that hammer and now it was gone. But how? Would it pain Thor if Loki probed into such matters?
"Might I ask what fate became of Mjolnir?"
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Thor's free hand wanders up to his eyepatch, absently tracing the scar on his cheekbone. "That was Hela's doing too. Turns out Mjolnir used to be hers, before Father gave it to me. She had a... way with weapons. Creation, destruction. She unmade it before my eyes."
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"I'm sorry, Thor. I only wish I were there to stop her from committing such a terrible thing."
Could he have stopped Hela if he were there at his brother's side? Thor would surely have welcomed help in the form of Loki's magic but what was done was done. There was no going back now it seemed. Stormbreaker was now Thor's weapon of choice. Loki was silent for a moment, just gazing at the axe upon the wall whilst sipping some of his drink.
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He just smiles sadly and takes a drink from his glass. "Mjolnir was a good hammer. Stormbreaker's a good axe too, though. I forged it myself to kill... well, him." He drops his hand again and flexes those fingers as if curling them around an imaginary axe haft, and though the memory of separating the Mad Titan's head from his shoulders should be a satisfying one, it isn't. "Anyway," he says abruptly, forcing his attention back to his brother, before he can spiral too far down that path, "what do you think about the house? It's a little small with the children staying here, but I like it."
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"I could see how you'd need it to be large. Since that bastard sounded huge."
His voice was soft and caring, unlike the usual mocking tone he often threw around his brother during banter. Loki knew he was no hero, nor was he a good man, but he did care. Thor had been through Hel and back with no reprieve and now it seemed guilt racked Loki's core regarding such things.
"I think it's most definitely you. Cosy, warm, and a true warrior's pad. It does smell a little musky but I believe that might be your warrior's sweat."
His free hand move to Thor's back, patting it gently whilst smirking.
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To that end, he tips up his glass and drains it, pasting a smile on by the time he lowers it, empty. "A home fit for a king, right?" Not really, not for a king such as Odin, but Thor is not their father and he is trying very hard to find the king he wants to be, rather than the one Odin had wanted. "I feel like I should probably paint it. The outside, I mean. Not gold though. I've had enough of that." He sets his glass in the sink, among a few other dirty dishes, and wipes his palm against his pants. "So, the tour."
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"Here."
He quickly summoned a cloth so that Thor could dry his hands properly if he so wished. If there were children staying within Thor's house then surely they should be brought up with proper manners. Loki for one, was strict on that front.
"Oh, I don't know what's wrong with a bit of gold. I rather find it warm and attractive."
Loki loved his gold. Hence his horned helmet and decorated armour. The newest project was for him to design and build a gold chariot. It had been something he and Cricket had discussed at a past point. Thoughts aside, he focused back on Thor, offering a pleased smile.
"The tour, brother."
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“No gold,” he repeats stubbornly, in a tone that Loki will recognize as him being quite serious about this, not just to be contrary or tease his brother about his chosen colors. “Yellow, maybe.”
If Loki has yet to finish his drink, Thor has no objections to him carrying it with him as they walk. He closes the door behind them, but doesn’t lock it, and starts down the winding path down the bluff that separates his home from the rest of the village.
It’s a pleasant day out, if a cool one by Asgardian standards. Sea birds call out overhead and over sea, and the sunlight shines off the waves that surround the islands. Fishing boats come and go from the docks, offloading their catch on the northern side of the village, and Thor points out a few of the larger vessels by name as they pass. On the edge of the water near the docks, an old tourist attraction has been repurposed as a house of healing, Eir’s symbol painted broadly on the door alongside a Midgardian red cross, and a serpent wound around a staff.
The street is not crowded as they walk along the paved path, but there are passers by, mostly young women and teenagers of both genders, most moving with a purpose as they deliver supplies or tools elsewhere on the island. There are a few citizens that are clearly not Asgardian - a tall rocky Kronan, a purple wormlike creature, a gray-skinned person with multiple heads - and some of them wave at Thor and peer at Loki as they go by. Thor just shakes his head, and waves in return, and turns to point out the location of the general store and the school for his brother. “Some of the humans who used to live here are still around,” he adds, when he notices Loki eyeing up the strange mishmash of Asgardian and Earth clothing styles on some of the villagers. “We’ve had to expand beyond the village’s original borders, back when it was still Henningsvaer. Wakanda helped with that; they’re one of Earth’s more advanced countries, though their sorcery is in its infancy. But they’ve done well by us.”
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"I can see. Such culture exists here that I never thought possible."
As for the mix of cultures, Earth and Asgardian, Loki eyed up the locals carefully and took it all in. It was still a shock for one such as him to witness such diversity amongst folk. But seeing Thor content and happy living alongside these people? That gave Loki a pang of hope which rested in the pit of his stomach.
"You have a good life here, Thor. Away from toil and strife. I trust you still have the urge to hone your skills on the odd straw dummy or two?"
The training dolls they used to have back home to practice on. Loki enjoyed burying his knife firmly into the soft straw of many a manikin. He could see Thor becoming bored aside from tending his garden and the like, since deep down he was still a warrior.
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This is progress, Thor reminds himself. He is outside, socializing, groomed and wearing clean clothes. What does it matter that he hasn't swung his axe since the day they restored the lost? That will come in time.
"No," he says, not quite meeting Loki's eye, but turned back toward him. "Not for a while, but I was ill for some time." A partial truth, one that leaves out many details, but it's not a lie.
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The timeline had seen to that since Loki was from a time before this version of his brother. It was a cruel notion and something he would never be able to correct.
"I see. Yet, this place has offered you solace to heal from your trauma?"
He wanted to hear Thor speak of healing his gashes caused by Thanos. The mental scars were always the ones that took longer to heal. Having a thick skin meant nothing when the pain irritated underneath the skin. Loki placed a hand on his brother's large shoulder, gently squeezing. The cool breeze felt good against his skin, causing a few stray hairs to tickle his ear.
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Thor begins walking again, slipping out from under Loki's hand casually as he turns to point out where the village goats are kept. Not small, bony things like Earth tends to raise, but good strong Vanir stock, large enough to rival a good sized pony, with healthy curling horns and ruggedly shaggy fur. "Most of the milk in the village comes from our own herds now. Gyda Elofsdottir makes cheese and soap from it, too. It's not quite enough to sell to outsiders but I'm told the human tourists will want it, once that starts up again. We might need to expand even further onto the mainland if we want a bigger herd, they'll eat everything on the islands if we don't." He chuckles at the thought, and points out a church to their left, a fresh new wooden sign proclaiming it to be the Asvera Administrative Center. "Some of the humans weren't happy about us taking over that one," he admits, and it's still an ongoing dispute so he sounds a little more stressed over this than the matter of the herd. "Something about blasphemy or something like that. But we needed every building we had, when our people arrived, and it had the space, so if they want to back to using it once a week we'll need somewhere else to put our offices." The life of a king is far less glamorous than Odin had made it sound, isn't it?
At last they arrive at the greenhouse. It's a new building, constructed sometime in the past year or so, still faintly smelling of fresh timber on the outside. The green-tinted glass is fogged from inside, drops of moisture hinting at the warmth within, and Thor leads the way into the garden, and its riot of green. Neat rows of plant beds run wild with color, vines and leaves and sprouts grown tall and lush. Most of the plants on one side seem to be vegetables and fruits - tomatoes, beans, carrots, turnips, and onions among others - while the other side hosts a wide variety of herbs - chamomile, dandelions, sage, henbane, and many more. Native bees buzz docilely around the flowers of both, a hand-built hive recessed into one wall with access to inside as well as outside. One plant bed is not quite overgrown yet, a creeping green carpet that may bear cloudberries, in time. To Loki's magical senses, this is a place absolutely steeped in it, fertility magic soaked into the very soil itself after a year of constant tending, the center of power in the little village that radiates outward into the land and seas beyond.
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"I'm impressed. This--it's--I'm proud of you, Thor. Really."
Loki whole-heartedly meant it this time. Through thick and thin he had been at odds with his brother most of his life but there had been few occasions where Loki was genuinely impressed. Now being one of them.
"Such a wide assortment of vegetables and herbs. They must be useful when preparing meals and drinks. I wouldn't mind trying some chamomile tea one day."
He offered Thor a comforting smile, as he walked closer, inhaling the earthy scent once more, finding it refreshing. The sights and sounds were stimulating and Loki could almost remember his childhood within Asgard's herb garden. Patches of memory flooding back of their mother teaching them about herbs and tending to seeds. Loki in particular took on board everything she said even if others thought he was just playing tricks on others.
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He cannot manipulate the growth of his garden with any targeted skill, but with every breath from his lungs and every beat of his heart, he commands them to grow, be healthy, be fruitful. A magic that affects people and animals as effortlessly as the land; it's little wonder there have been new babies in the village only a year after landing, that the seas are teeming with fish, and that the herd of goats will need more space to graze soon.
Thor stands and brushes the dirt from his hand, a little self-conscious about his use of such a feminine magic. He clears his throat and watches his brother walk among the greenery, bees buzzing lazy circles around them both. "Meals and medicine, yes," he says, one-eyed gaze drawn to the side of the greenhouse that hosts the herbs. "Much of Midgard's medicines and potions aren't strong enough for Asgardians, so Eir has to craft treatments herself. Most of them are from Earth's stock; very few seeds were saved from Asgard." It hadn't been a priority, and Thor does not regret not risking lives to save plants and animals and art, but it's still a loss to their culture not to have them anymore.
Still, he can be proud of the few that they did rescue, and he points out one of the flowering herbs that Loki will recognize from home. "This might be the last of Frigga's Loom anywhere, unless they have it on Vanaheim."
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"I can believe it. All of this. How long did it take to grow it all?"
Loki walked around the different plants and herbs wondering just how much it took out of his brother. Had he tended them night and day? It seemed so. Thor had more patience than his younger brother it seemed these days. He bent over a few fresh herbs, inhaling deeply, enjoying the fresh smell invading his nostrils.
"Back when we were younger, I used to enjoy crafting herbs into medicines when we went hunting together."
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But times have changed, and though Asgard is much diminished from what it was, there are signs of rebuilding, of healing.
He watches Loki, and through the nervousness, he's pleased to see his brother so taken with the garden. "Yes, I remember. Came in handy more than once, too." Many of the herbs here will no doubt be unfamiliar native species, but there are still those that Loki will recognize. Oddly enough, many of them seem to be geared toward being soothing and calming, rather than the sort of herbs one might need to treat injuries.
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"Yes. Many a time when the boar turned on us I was grateful I could craft a quick healing poultice before infection set in."
That was a time when the wild boar pierced Thor's body and Loki knew he had to act. The trials of hunting. Sometimes you were the one which was hunted. As for Thor's herbs they were a many good variety for soothing it seemed. That made sense for a man and people trying to build a new life for themselves and heal old wounds. The ones that took longer were the ones that were invisible to the naked eye. Loki, himself, knew only too well how hard those were to heal.
"Do you make a good tea with these?"
Loki glanced down at a few herbs and wondered if they would indeed stew into a useful beverage.
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The drink they shared in his house is bolstering his nerves - perhaps more psychologically than any actual tipsiness - so Thor plows right on past any such confessions. "Eir makes potions with most of them, but I guess you could make tea too. A lot of these grow wild in this part of Midgard, but it's easier to have them all in one place instead of foraging on the mountain. Every now and then, Vidar brings me some new ones to grow - he's training to be the village alchemist, but it's going to be a while, I think. Lots of our people are having to learn new professions, you know?"
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"Such a shame. I really thought you had acquired a taste for herbal teas. You really should try them one day, Thor. You don't know what you're missing."
It was a playful jab but one that he hoped Thor would take into consideration in time. The teas were good. As for his brother's words on the people learning new professions, that prompted a nod in agreement.
"I can see how they would have to adapt to survive. You are living in quite the Eden here. Should I be jealous?"
A playful smirk covered Loki's lips, as he looked around one more time within the confines of the greenhouse and inhaled the fresh, earthy scents one more time. Would he be allowed to visit again? Surely, Thor would allow Loki visits if he sought out to mingle with the salty sea air and the soil-filled air of the greenhouse.
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The question, however playful, has Thor reflecting on it a bit more seriously. Should he be envious of this? "It came at a great cost," he says quietly, absently rubbing the metal of his artificial arm, a constant reminder of the price he'd had to pay to save this many. "If we can build something worthy of the sacrifices it took, I will be happy with that. We've come so far already."
It's easier for him to believe that now that the streets are full of people, now that the Earth is not horribly empty as it was after the Titan used the stones. This is progress, and he can see it with his own eye.
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"I'm sure it did. The people who helped carve this new world out....they seem brave souls."
Would he be able to visit this world with Thor once more after they go back to the Nexus? Loki hoped so since there was something that tugged at his heart seeing the sea once more and inhaling fresh scents and earthy smells. It felt rugged and rural and homely almost.
"As for future visits here, is that possible once we go back?"
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The Asgardians who live might be the common folk, for the most part, but they understand the Nexus and the concepts of alternates well enough. The adults do, anyway. But the children, and the humans? Not so much.
But Thor has lost too much family to want to push Loki away, no matter how his brother feels about him, no matter what grudges he might still hold. He smiles faintly and claps a hand to Loki's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here."
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"I can understand that regarding my history and the unknown factor in me being here. If I want to visit I will let you know."
If there were still grudges then Loki would accept them as they came. Yet, the strings of hope were worth clutching onto now and he wanted to try and build a connecting bridge after smashing it down in the past. Glancing to the hand clapped on his shoulder he exhaled softly and nodded. Green eyes meeting blue.
"To be honest I wasn't sure what I would find. But now I'm here I know I want to come back and try to be the brother I should have been a long time ago."
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It is, as Thor said, somewhat complicated. But neither is he willing to let that get in the way of seeking out every bit of family he can. He has lost too much not to.
He beams at Loki, pleased to hear that he wants to return. "Then you shall."