Though he’s had little direct involvement in assignments of labor and training, Thor is aware that the Asgardian children have been similarly called to help the adults in their work. Nothing strenuous or back-breaking, but anyone old enough to run messages or fetch supplies and tools has surely been assigned to some simple tasks that require no skill and pose no danger. But maybe one day soon, they will be established enough to allow for proper schools and tutoring rather than work. Not that Thor has any idea who might then be fit to teach.

Either way, he understands the necessity. “Every citizen matters, no matter how small,” he agrees quietly, and thinks of those who are so young that they will never remember Asgard as it was. But they are precious nonetheless.

He can feel the garden before they arrive, the humidity in the air that clings around the greens, little blooms of warmth and life that call out for sun and sky. Uncertain what to expect in this place where nearly everything has been cobbled together and recycled countless times, he’s surprised and impressed when he sees their ingenuity, making use of what they have with the greatest efficiency available to them. Who else would have thought to create mobile gardens to maximize their growth potential? Human creativity never ceases to amaze him.

Arid weather is still weather, but part of Thor will always belong to the rain, and the water hanging heavy in the air here soothes him as he slowly walks the length of the garden, turning his head to fully take it all in. “This is incredible,” he says, and any melancholy thoughts are forgotten for the moment, his voice holding nothing but admiration.