Moving to Alfheim

Chapter 2: The True Meaning of Alfheim

The next morning, Thor sat at the breakfast table watching Loki's back as he left the room. He'd knocked a glass over and spilled juice all over himself and his clothes, and now had to go wash up and change. Although it wasn't very nice of him, Thor knew, he was a little bit glad Loki had done it, because it was usually Thor who did things like knock glasses over.

"Where do you think you and Loki would like to sleep when Loki turns ten?" Frigga asked as a servant wiped up the juice on the table and chair and floor. She knew better than to phrase it any way other than "you and Loki." Someday they'd stop sleeping in their parents' chambers; someday they'd stop sleeping in the same bedchamber; someday they'd stop winding up in the same bed as they had last night. But if Thor's tenth birthday hadn't changed anything, there was no reason to expect that Loki's tenth birthday would.

Thor chewed on a bite of sausage as he thought. "Well…," he began, then swallowed. "Maybe we could both move into my new chambers. Maybe you could put our beds in there?" He stabbed a potato cube with his fork and ate it.

"Yes, we could do that. But do you think Loki will be ready for it?" Frigga knew better than to phrase it any other way; by "Loki" she meant "you and Loki." Thor may be full of his father's bravado, but Frigga had assigned a nursemaid to sit in secret just outside his bedchamber that first night, in his antechamber, all night long, just in case. The woman had reported to her how Thor had remained awake for a very long time, tossing and turning, before his breathing evened out into sleep. She'd wanted to be there herself, but she'd stayed with Loki instead, her son who as a baby had almost never cried – except when left alone.

"Loki will be fine if I'm with him," Thor said confidently. "Besides, that's a long time from now."

Frigga smiled. Thor was probably right. And he would be fine, too. It would be a good transition period for them. But six months…it would be gone in the blink of an eye. Her children were growing up so fast. "We'll still have his own chambers prepared with things he likes, so that when he's ready, he can move into them."

Thor shrugged. He didn't really care if he and Loki stayed in the same chambers forever. Loki liked it better that way, and, truthfully, so did he. Who else was he going to share his deepest thoughts with late at night? Who else was going to know that Loki was having a bad dream and wake him up? (Who else was going to know that he was having a bad dream and wake him up?) As long as Loki grew out of that thumbnail-chewing thing.

Loki's bad dream from the night before then came back to him. "Mother…?"

"Yes?" Frigga said, looking up from the breakfast she'd turned her attention back to. She'd given him a casual glance at first, then when she looked again she realized he had a rather serious, somewhat concerned expression on his face, a look that for once made him look a lot like Loki.

"Do you think I'll ever move away to live on Alfheim?"

"Wh-what? Ah, well, no, I wouldn't think so. This is your home, and one day this will be your realm." Frigga wondered where the question came from, but it was Loki she sometimes had to push to tell her what he was thinking; if Thor had something more to say, he would say it.

Thor thought that over; it made sense. It was basically what he told Loki. "That's what I thought," he said a moment later.

They finished breakfast – they'd been almost done anyway – and the servants began clearing the table. Thor grabbed another biscuit from the platter as it was removed. Loki still wasn't back, and he'd better hurry or they'd be late for their lessons. That was all right, though. Thor was a Prince of Asgard now and the lessons would just have to wait for him.

A new question occurred to him as he chewed on a bit of biscuit. He hurried to swallow it and coughed a couple of times before he succeeded.

"Are you all right?" Frigga asked.

He nodded. "Do you think Loki will ever move away and live on Alfheim?"

This time Frigga wrinkled her brow in confusion, wondering why this sudden concern about Alfheim. It was true their last trip there hadn't ended well, but that was…Frigga thought back…nearly a year ago. "I suppose, someday, if he wanted to, he could," she finally said. "But right now, and for a long time to come, you're both going to live right here, either in these chambers, or in your own chambers on the floors below us. No one is moving to Alfheim or anywhere else anytime soon."

Thor nodded, satisfied. But then, as he thought back over what his mother had said, he realized there was a difference between what she'd said about him moving to Alfheim and what she'd said about Loki moving to Alfheim. "So…Loki can move to Alfheim if he wants to, when he grows up…but I can't?"

Frigga watched her son, with his neatly combed blond hair and his neatly pressed red tunic and perfectly arranged leathers – it all started out that way in the morning, anyway – his wide blue eyes, the hope on his face and in his posture that he would be told no, that wasn't what she'd meant. Before her eyes he was gaining his very first understanding of what it was to be king, that it was not just swordfights and glorious battles and being able to tell people what to do. It was an important lesson. And her heart broke just a bit for her little boy.

Thor was waiting for an answer. She wanted to give him the one he wanted. She wanted to lie. A ten-year-old boy should not have to bear such a burden on his small shoulders. His future should not have to define him this young.

But in the end, Frigga couldn't lie to her son. She'd done enough of that already. The best she could do was try to soften the blow. "If you really wanted to, you might be able to live on Alfheim for a time. But eventually you'll have to live here, Thor. The king of Asgard can't live on Alfheim. And in the meantime, you'll have to learn how to be a king, and you can't do that from Alfheim, either."

Thor's face fell, his blue eyes stared down at his plate with its half-eaten biscuit.

"May I take that, my prince? Are you finished?" a servant asked.

His head swung around, to face her, this woman about whom he knew nothing except her name – Totra – and for a moment everything was her fault. "My name is Thor," he told her, then turned the opposite direction, toward his mother, and slid out of his chair as Totra glanced nervously between the prince and the queen. "I'm going to class now," he announced.

"Aren't you going to wait for Loki?"

"I don't want to be late just because Loki is."

Frigga sighed and watched him go. When they had breakfast together, he and Loki usually both hugged her before they left for their lessons. Thor had just given her half a dozen signals he was upset. She suspected they would have to talk further about this, but she also didn't want to draw further attention to it. It was all so ridiculous, anyway. She knew Thor didn't want to move to Alfheim, or anywhere else. And Loki certainly didn't want to move there, or, at least at this age, anywhere where his big brother wasn't.

But Alfheim wasn't Alfheim. Alfheim was freedom. Loki had it, and Thor didn't.

/

/

Loki arrived about ten minutes after Thor, who instinctively turned toward the door when he entered, but then proceeded to ignore him as much as possible afterward. It wasn't easy; they were the only two students, and their tutors strove to make their lessons as interactive and engaging as possible. There was no one else to interact with but Loki and whichever tutor was teaching that particular lesson.

Thor felt like someone, somewhere, must be playing some grand trick on him. This year for their cosmology lessons they were doing in-depth studies of each of the Nine Realms. Yesterday the boys had given their final presentation on Vanaheim – Mother and Father had even come down to see it, though Father had arrived late and only saw the last part, when Thor had re-enacted the most famous Vanir folk tale and "slain" Loki, the beast who was destroying their land. Loki had done a very convincing job with the beast in his death throes, arms and legs trembling and shaking up in the air while Loki lay on his back. And Thor had run victorious circles around him once all four limbs suddenly fell to the wooden floor with a satisfying thud, then recited the verses of triumph, vowing eternal protection of the land. It was marvelous.

Today, Lady Ingerun announced that they were beginning their study of Alfheim. Perfect.

Loki turned to his brother and smiled; Alfheim was now something else secret they shared. "Maybe we can ask Muli about it," he said.

"Muli doesn't know anything about Alfheim. It's his brother who moved there, not him."

"Don't worry, boys. We have Light Elves living here on Asgard, a few who have even taken Asgardian citizenship. We'll have plenty of guest speakers to come tell us about Alfheim, and we'll take at least one field trip there, possibly two. I've already arranged for a lesson in the pottery-making of the northern…

Thor tuned her words out. He would rather hear about anything other than Alfheim right now.

At lunchtime they took their satchels and walked to the nearby children's park, as they did most days when they didn't plan an adventure instead. There were usually some thirty other boys and girls there around Thor's and Loki's ages on lunch break at the same time. "I wish Muli's classes were here near the palace," Loki said, mostly to have something to say, since Thor was being unusually quiet.

Thor didn't respond. He really wished Loki would quit bringing up Muli and his stupid brother on stupid Alfheim.

Loki fell silent again, wondering what was bothering Thor. Then he realized what the problem was. Thor got grumpy when he didn't get enough sleep, and Loki's whistling had woken his brother up, and then he'd kept him up with all his questions and fears. And Thor was such a good big brother, he always listened and never told him to be quiet and go to sleep. Loki promised himself he'd make sure it didn't happen again tonight.

When they reached the park, the brothers dropped their satchels and ran to grab lightweight wooden swords from the red bin near the climbing tree. The game was already in progress so they rushed to join it, the enchanted swords now reflecting sunlight off what appeared to be sharp metal blades. "Prince Thor! You're on our team! We're the Aesir. We're fighting the Frost Giants. You too, Loki," seven-year-old Fandral added, running over to their side.

Loki nodded eagerly, but Thor frowned. "Don't call me that. Just Thor."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. And now I'm saying I want you to call me Thor."

Fandral shrugged. "All right, Thor. You'll be on our team, won't you? We're red and they're blue."

Thor nodded, and took off toward the center of the battle, Loki and Fandral close on his heels. He told his sword he was on the red team, and it took on a slight red glow around the edges. Thor and Loki and a few of the others had something of an unfair advantage since they'd begun to learn how to actually wield a sword, and they took out several of their Frost Giant opponents, signified by their swords reverting to their natural wooden appearance.

"Prince Thor!" some girl called.

Thor whirled around to find who it was. He spotted her; she wanted him to come help her and a boy who'd been backed up against a tree by three Frost Giants. "Don't call me-" Thor froze, the tip of a wooden sword pressing against his upper back. He glanced down at his sword and watched as the metal changed back into wood.

"I've got you, Prince Thor. You're out!" his attacker yelled.

He whirled around again. "Don't call me 'Prince Thor'!" Thor yelled back.

The boy, a solid two years younger than him, took a frightened step back. "But you said-"

"I don't care what I said!" Thor stomped away and threw his stupid sword back in the stupid bin. He grabbed his satchel from the ground and went over to an empty wooden bench and sat down in a huff. (And yes, it was Thor who'd announced to the whole group four months ago that he was now officially a Prince of Asgard and they must therefore address him as such.)

Several minutes later Loki dropped down beside him, opening his satchel and pulling out his lunch with giddy happiness. "I lasted longer than you this time, Thor, did you see? Fandral and I took out three Frost Giants."

"Good job, Loki," Thor said with the best smile he could manage, which wasn't much. "Who took you out?"

"Kobbi and his sister Katla teamed up on me. I think the Frost Giants are going to win."

Thor nodded absently and bit into his second sandwich, while Loki began to tell him about the entire battle.

The story came to an end, and Loki was disappointed that Thor hadn't commented, or jumped in with any of his own stories. He reached into his satchel for his other sandwich and held it out to Thor.

Thor started to take it, then shook his head. "No, thanks, Loki. I'm full. I'm going to go back to the classroom."

Loki watched in stunned silence as Thor gathered his things and left. Thor was really upset if he was turning down Loki's sandwich and giving up outside time to go back to their lessons before he had to. He thought about his whistling and tried to figure out how he could make sure he didn't do it anymore, ever again.

/

/

Thor's mood continued to spiral downward under his tutors' conspiracy. He'd forgotten that in their history class they were studying the Great Fracture, when Alfheim and Svartalfheim, formerly united under a Light Elf king, had violently parted ways. Thor decided to ignore the history tutor and draw, but that was even less successful than ignoring Loki, for it was hard to escape his notice when there was only him and Loki to keep an eye on. Thor's half-done drawing of a horse was confiscated with a sharp reprimand.

His mood was at its darkest when he and Loki reported for training. Here, until he and Loki had memorized all the standard blocks and strikes and counter-strikes with their wooden practice swords – and how to make each move without actually harming an opponent – the young princes were again the only two students. Only once they could be trusted with actual blades, even the slightly blunted ceremonial ones, would they move into group training with swords and all sorts of weapons, as well as hand-to-hand fighting.

Today it was hard to look into Loki's eyes and be anything but angry. Loki could move to Alfheim, or anywhere he wanted in all the Nine Realms (really only six – Helheim was out of the question, and Jotunheim and Muspelheim were really only acceptable for short visits, unless you liked being frozen or charred meat). Thor would be stuck on Asgard for the rest of his life. It wasn't fair. Loki could travel the realms while Thor sat permanently stuck to a throne, bored. Loki could move away and marry some girl and Thor wouldn't even know her. Loki could leave him behind and do whatever he wanted to.

Loki was getting tired. It was harder for him, these exercises and mock fights. Unlike the swords at the children's park, unlike the ones in the toychest in their bedchamber, these block-shaped practice swords were almost the full size and weight of a standard sword. Thor usually left tired and sweating, but Loki, still six months younger than when boys usually began this training and possessing a slender, light frame, often couldn't make it through the full session.

"Good, good, Thor," Ossur said, standing a few feet away. (He'd already gotten the lecture about how he should address Thor.)

"Now up and to the right, good. Loki, you have to put more shoulder into it. He'll knock the sword out of your hand like that. The momentum will…that's better, good. Then down…back…good. Up and to the left, Thor. Good…that's it…good. Back to starting positions now."

Loki's arm dropped and the tip of his sword dragged on the ground. With his left sleeve he mopped up sweat from his brow, then he ran his hand through his black hair to get it out of his face.

"You all right, Loki?" Ossur asked.

Loki nodded enthusiastically and rotated his shoulders a few times. He liked Ossur. He pushed both of them, but not beyond what they were capable of. He never made Loki feel bad for not being able to keep up with Thor, and he gave equal time to both boys even though Loki wasn't really even supposed to be there. Loki trusted him, and wanted to please him, and always tried his hardest to do everything he asked.

"Thor? You seem tense. You all right?"

"I'm fine," Thor muttered. Loki's eagerness was annoying him. Everything about Loki was annoying him right now. Loki didn't have to be here; he could be out doing anything he wanted. Loki was here because he wanted to be. Thor was here because he had to be.

"All right then, let's do it again, full speed this time. Loki, watch that one upward strike. If either of you forgets a move or fails to sufficiently block, the other claims the victory. And…begin."

Loki tried to think the moves "aloud" in his mind as he and Thor made them, but it was hard. He was really tired, and the muscles in his arms and shoulders were screaming at him. Thor wasn't tired at all, and was treating it like a real swordfight rather than a memorized, choreographed set of moves. His brain started to shut down and he fell back on muscle memory, reacting to Thor's strikes and making the counter-strikes that seemed to flow naturally because they'd been practiced so many times. But it got harder and harder, and when they reached the same point where Loki had almost lost control of his sword even in the slow-paced practice run, Thor's sword drove upward and to the right and Loki's flew right out of his hand. Loki reached up and back, trying in vain to get hold of it again, even as he grimaced, knowing what would happen next.

Thor "stabbed" him in the chest, and, reaching backward as he was, Loki lost his balance and fell back. Just as his bottom hit the ground and his head was about to as well, instead of another tap to the chest to claim victory, Thor hit him hard with the blunt, blocky end of the sword.

Loki cried out on the whoosh of air that left his lungs.

His body felt light, and there was no pain after the initial impact, only a strange and uncomfortable pressure on his chest. His breaths seemed to come with difficulty, and he could swear he heard a soft whistling sound with each one. Ossur's face, then Thor's appeared above him; their mouths were moving but no sound was coming out. Loki tried to smile, to tell them he was all right, that he would try harder next time, but then he thought perhaps he would just rest a while first, and everything faded away.

/

The heart of Thor's side of this story, that Alfheim represents the freedom he doesn't have, is very vaguely inspired actually by an interview I saw once with Tom Hiddleston, in which he discusses this difference between Thor and Loki, Loki having grown up with a type of freedom Thor didn't have. It was a typically insightful analysis from him and I've never forgotten it. (I'm sure others of you have seen it as well.)

And no, Thor did not intend to hurt Loki here. But he was in an angry mood and acted recklessly. Sound familiar? ;-)

Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts!