I had a NaNo to do this month. And I didn't.
(LIKE A BOSS.)
So, I did the math, and everything I've written this November, plus what I had written for NaNo, is around 40thou. So, I'm pretty pleased with myself.

I will try to keep this fic as fluffy as possible, but in no canon are the lives of our little princelings fluffy, so there will be some angst but! But! No more graphic child abuse. And when anything shows up, I will warn ahead of time.

Sorry for the SuperLong author's note that isn't really relevant.

Seconds later...

Volstagg groaned, rubbing his stomach. "I am starved! Please, let us eat cake!"

Loki giggled, letting Thor out of the hug but holding his hand. "I believe it is presents, then feasting, is it not, Sif?"

The warrior-to-be smiled. "Exactly. Everyone, line up your gifts - Thor, take a seat."

The blond turned around and saw a makeshift throne of woven branches and flowers and leaves, cushioned by moss and a foot or so taller than him. Grinning, he slid back into it, watching amusedly as his friends jostled into a sort-of line.

Fandral had brought him round silver clasps for his cloak, grinning like a loon as Thor flipped them in his hands and buckled them on. Hogun gave him an old warrior's manual from Vanaheim, full of strategems and weaponry. Volstagg insisted that it was his idea to bring the cake, and as such he'd already given the gift, and then proceeded to hand over a feast, packed up in a wicker hamper - "Man cannot survive on cake alone!"

Sif, rolling her eyes, had handed him two things. The first, a dragon's egg - solid diamond and roughly the size of a ham, one could see the vaguest of dark shapes curled up within - made the two of them grin. "Dragons are fierce warriors and near-impossible to defeat in battle. As king, you will need something with which to strike fear into your enemies' hearts, and that pup face of yours simply won't," she said, laughing. The second was a small clay bead, dark grey and smaller than a pinkie fingernail.

Eight was the age at which Asgardians set out on the path to adulthood - they arranged marriages, tied their hair back, started training for their adult careers. And that bead, innocuous as it was, carried a far more conspicuous meaning.

It was the start of a marriage contract.

Thor's brow furrowed in confusion, while Sif scowled. "My father and yours are planning something stupid. You needn't wear it. You can even crush it under your boot."

Thor shook his head. "Our fathers are wise men. If they see some boon in this, I see no reason why I oughtn't humour them. Besides, we are friends." Carefully, he tucked it into his pocket; Frigga had yet to braid his hair, and he had nowhere else to put it.

"I am sorry," Sif whispered, hugging him briefly before stepping aside.

Loki, who had not seen the bead, scampered up to Thor, beaming. "Happy birthday, brother!" He held out his hands, and in them sat a brassy bell. "There are fierce creatures atop that mountain - " he pointed "- and they run faster, with surer feet, than any other beast. Truly, they are worthy of being yours. If you ring that bell, they will come running, and those that you can subdue will be your steeds."

Thor's eyes lit up, as did everyone else's in the company.

Volstagg piped up. "Thor? May we eat first?"

The blond laughed, hopping down from his makeshift throne, and started unpacking their feast. They made quick work of it, devouring a massive breakfast beneath the trees, and finally, when the last bones had been cleaned of meat and all that was left of the fruit was stems, pits, and cores, they turned to the cake.

It was magnificent. Eight layers of thick, rich, cake, glistening with honey and studded with sugar berries sat before them, shining in the sun. They all sang, loud and discordant and joyous, as Loki cut the cake into six even slices and divvied them up, and waited for Thor to take the first bite before demolishing their own slices.

Once they had finished, they leapt on their horses and rode off to the mountain, Thor clutching the bell in his hand. As they reached the base, he rang it, loud and clear and pealing.

"Baaaaaaaa!"

Thor blinked. That didn't sound right.

"BAAAAAAAA!"

Out of the mountain, from a hollow cave near the peak, stormed hundreds upon thousands of massive, hulking, angry goats.

They grinned, shouting, and threw themselves into the fray, trying to catch a goat for themselves. They were broad, muscled beasts, covered in a pale, coarse pelt that smelt faintly of cheese, and they sported massive craggy horns the colour of stone.

Volstagg immediately landed on a runt and rode it down onto flat land before it ran itself into a boulder to throw him off, retreating through it to their mountain tunnels.

Hogun and Sif attempted to capture the herd in a wide net - one Loki had woven for the girl for her birthday a few months prior - but the force of their stampede tore it to shreds. The two then jumped down from the trees and, on nimble feet, picked their way through the herd to find some small enough to capture.

Fandral, somehow, ended up clinging to the belly of a massive ram. He refused to speak of it after they were done.

Loki had flown to the top and, carefully, guided a smaller group of the biggest beasts towards his brother. Thor deserved something mighty and loyal.

Thor, grinning all the while, blasted open a tunnel in the goats' massive catacombs, sending most of the flock to flee, running to the opposite side and crawling in, bleating. The remaining eight goats charged at him, butting at his legs. He stood, unflappable, as if he welcomed it. Three of them grew bored and walked away, rolling boulders up the mountainside to block the opened cavern. One of them lost its footing and tumbled down the mountainside, only to pop back up and go home.

"Hardy little sheep," Fandral huffed, kicking at its rear end.

"Brat," Volstagg chuckled.

Of the remaining three, one grew too tired to stand and slumped to its knees, snoring heavily.

The last two kept at it until Thor grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks and said, "I, Thor Odinson, claim you as mine."

Resigned, they knelt before him, eyes rolling. One, slightly burlier, snarled at him, flashing big teeth, while the other ground its jaw in frustration.

"I think I shall call you Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr," he continued brightly. "Come along."

With the remains of Sif's net, he tied leashes around their necks and led them back to Asgard beside his horse.

When he arrived, glistening with pride, and told everyone of his new caprine steeds, they laughed.

And then, standing taller than Thor while still kids themselves, Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr charged the court, teeth grinding and bared.

It was a very good birthday, Thor thought that night, curled around his little brother, gently tugging knots out of his curls as the six-year-old slept. Very good indeed.

Mythology time! Loki once tricked Thor into taking goats as his steeds, and everyone laughed at him, but since goats are his animal symbol, I'm pretty sure he was cool with it. Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr mean, respectively, "Snarler/He who bares his teeth" and "He who grinds his teeth."

Sif, in original mythology, was Thor's wife. That ain't happening here, because as a Marvel movie!verse fic, I'm going off of the Sif/Loki vibe in the first Thor movie - not like they were dating, but like they had once.

The bead is irrelevant to actual Norse myth. I made it up because Thor has three little braids in Thor: The Dark World, but only two have beads, and he has two "love interests" - Sif, who Odin is pushing him to marry, and Jane, who he wants to marry. One is grey, like some of Sif's armour, while the other is black and kind of shiny, like a craft bead. A Midgardian craft bead.

Sorry for the rambling again, and I hope you review!