- 'Thor has found him, My Liege.'
Thor had managed in time to smash the Compass. Malekith cannot, will not use it to send more troops to ravage the Realm Eternal.
- 'What says Lord Njord? Asgard could do with some Vanir help.'
- 'The Great Khan of the Vanirs has his own troubles. It seems that our heirs have a curiously similar tendency to be at loggerheads with their sires.'
- Nothing good will brew from that, My Lord.'
- 'Not all the chess pieces are in place, Heimdall. I still have a knight to play. And a joker!'
Thor disarmed, because Mjolnir cannot hear him, and his faithful friends after being jeered at and copiously insulted by the Dark Elves have been led to Malekith' foul-smelling prisons. As they are entering their cell, they notice a bigger, wider one and Fandral cannot help but whining as why five of them should be allocated such a small cubicle and only two blankets when another prisoner, a sleeping red-head from what he can see enjoys such salubrious and well-aired quarters.
- 'Dat cos you lot are prisoners to me Lord Malekith. These Vanirs are prisoners but maybe if their old fool of a king Njord is still having his marbles about, they will become our allies. That's why, Asgardians! They can hope for an upgrade. And you, you can't.'
The troll who is their gaoler cackles as he locks the door and is about to leave when the Vanir who has been pulled out of his sleep by the noise stands up and calls him.
- 'Please, could we get some more water? Just water. No bread. We do not want to presume on your generosity. My…brother, my brother has not stopped groaning. I fear he is running a bad fever. Some fresh water would be most helpful. Please!'
Fandral wonders where he has heard this voice. Sif, meanwhile with Hogun has observed what the weakness points of the cell are. Volstagg bemoans at the bread edibility.
Not that it ever was edible. I wonder how can food rot more than that…
If ever Lord Malekith would care for his opinion, the Troll would say that as it stands himself is quite hungry and could do with some choicest Asgardian meat! Malekith does not interact with coarse underlings. Still his orders are clear. Trolls obey. If they obey well, they are rewarded.
He brings back some water. Fresh from the well. Fresh in some way. He has spit in it. His master has said nothing against spitting. Just before setting the refilled jug through the bars.
- 'Lucky you!'
Says the grimmer of the Warrior Three.
- 'This Troll will pay for his antics!'
Replies Sif.
As for Thor… The Thunderer rages inwardly at having failed Asgard, failed his father. He has failed regarding Jane who believes him to be strong and intelligent. Intelligence is Loki's domain. Strength is Thor's and falling into Malekith's trap has not been his smartest move.
The warriors Three share their communal blanket. Thor leaves his to Sif who refuses but she feels coerced to accept as Hogun and his friends refuse to use it and Thor says his cape will suffice. Hence the blanket sits by its own, unused. Sif can sleep without blanket, like the true soldier she is!
(If Loki had been there, he would have found a way to make us of two blankets for six persons. Loki would have guessed, would have seen to it. But Loki is safe, out of Asgard. Come to think of it, Loki is safe. Wherever he is, he is safe. There is still hope, isn't it? Loki is safe. Happy? … Maybe not. Yet safe from Malekith certainly.)
Another reason not to despair is that Thor knows his mother is somewhere in this compound. With Lord Balder. Balder…
He plays and plays again in his mind the scene where his father has revealed to him the identity of the 'friend' Frigga has been visiting since… since ages! He still cannot believe it. His mother had been sent away, on some mission or another to meet with some princeling, regularly renewed the bounds of friendship. So he thought. Queen Frigga does often travel to meet other ladies of her husband's realm unless it is some other queens from other realms. What do these ladies do aside drinking tea, weaving and embroidering is everybody's guess! Thor knows they must do engage in some sort of sports because he has heard the Queen to mention some progress in horse-riding. They hunt apparently. What? Turtledoves? Peacocks? They dance and take notes of their improvements to elegant deportment. They discuss tutors and training skills. They discuss children progress. And Thor who vaguely listened to his parents asides, blames himself for not having paid more attention.
All in all, for years, Thor has considered his mother's life as quite … boring. But it was his mother's life and if she felt she needed to go at each Yule at some secret secluded place to worship and participate to some obscure festival, Thor considered it was her absolute right. Every year, laden with toys, she would leave 'her grown men' and return a few days later. Every year, Odin would ask if 'all was fine' , followed by 'I envy you' and every year she would reply 'all grows well'. And now, Thor wonders why he has been so blind, so deaf. Father, when interrogated would reply men are not privy to some prerogatives regarding the AllMother.
Thor did think drink tea and listening at dismal poets were hardly things to be missed. Now he knows; now he will make sure the poets are real and not make-believe excuses. Loki, on the other hand was always suspicious. Always wondering why! Always curious, inquisitive, never satisfied. (There is something, Brother. Father looked at me in a weird way. I am sure there is something big they are hiding from us. From me, at the very least).
Loki does not know he has a brother. Loki does not know the onus of being the youngest one has now fallen on somebody else's shoulders. Somebody else will be at the butt end of jokes and conspiratorial smiles.
- 'Brother, where art thou? Brothers, where art thee?'
Thor had one brother; then none. Then one again, though another. Then none again. This must stop! Thor has no patience for this losing game. Thor wants what is his; he wants his brothers back. Both of them. Woe to whom has dared to separate what should have never been disunited! Woe to he who had unknotted what was woven as One!
Malekith! Malekith! Outside, the thunder rumbles as his master's mood. Malekith rebellion was bad enough when through treachery or sorcery, he has not only kidnapped the Queen but Odin's youngest.
- 'Balder is the hands of the Accursed. My son! My youngest born!'
- 'Lord Balder, the old man Mother visits at each Yule is … is but a child? … And my… my brother? Loki's and mine? Our brother?'
Somehow Frigga and Odin have hidden from their two sons when said young sparks were still in need to be accompanied while hunting that the Queen had been safely delivered of a third son. The Norns having informed the royal parents their new born son would be in danger of death if he was to meet his siblings, the baby had been raised far from Asgard; far from his mother and father. Regularly, the Queen would find a reason for her absences while Odin would also visit whenever possible. Never together as to foil any suspicion.
- 'Why? Why Father? Do you really believe Loki and me to be so jealous of a baby we would have killed him? Why these years of lies?'
- 'No, Thor. Not you Thor. Not you'
And it hurts Thor to suspect Odin feared that Loki's insane uncontrollable jealousy … already at that time…
The Warriors Three sleep, Volstagg snores. Heavily. Sif sleeps gently. In the other cell, a small Vanir tends to his wounded brother. He vaguely hears some moaning following by soothing Vanir words. Somehow he finds solace that here at least two brothers are together, fighting adversity. It is not that he approves of Vanirs. (Hypocrites. … Men….No. Gods!). Still, it is nice to see that Vanirs just like Asgardians have human feelings and keep their brothers' backs.
Thor returns to his reverie. He has a brother, a younger brother. Much younger than Loki. If he is happy to know he is not alone, not anymore alone; he still misses Loki. To have Balder by his side is nice; to have Loki and Balder is better, much better. To have the three brothers together would be the best thing ever to have happened to him. And his thoughts bring him back to Loki's mysterious disappearance. Loki has managed to secure (how?) some complicity (with whom?) as to escape with a Vanir on their father's favourite mount. (that's whom and how sorted!). Some finer details will need more explanations. The facts are as follow: Loki with the help of a mysterious Vanir (what did he look like? I did see him on Sleipnir's back) has managed to drug with a breathing spell all Asgard but for Heimdall who was too far to do anything as he was standing on the Bifrost. But for the Queen far away, travelling to visit Balder.
Next thing, last thing Thor knows as something happens: Sleipnir jumps into what looks like a rainbow portal of some sort and then … nothing. Gone the Vanir and his stolen eight-legged horse; gone Loki. Gone his mother and little Balder.
- 'Where are thou, brother? I miss you, Asgard misses you. Brother, we all miss you… We all mourned you. All of us.'
Slowly, the night leaves like an inopportune guest. Slowly, shadows shrink. Slowly, shadows take shapes and forms. Shadows become colours. And forms and shapes become recognizable. Definable. Named.
Thor may not be as bright as Loki but blind he is not. He has already taken notice of the copper, wildfire-like curls of his cell's neighbour. Now, he looks at the clothes, the finer details like the large ear bangles and he wonders where he has seen them last. Because just like Loki, he has an excellent memory.
The Vanir would like to shrink more, to be smaller. To become invisible. He would like to but cannot. Not that he cannot shape shift. He can. But it means that selfishly he would abandon the Jotun. He would abandon Loki and this, he cannot. It would be despicable; it would be cowardly. Grandfather would say it would be lacking of elegance. AllMother would disapprove. AllMother who knows all his secrets would be ashamed. Bringing back Sleipnir to Vanaheimr would never bring his honour that; fearing that as the dawn brings the revelation of Truth.
The Vanir who tends to his wounded companion remembers his younger self trailing beside his Grand Father while the slightly younger yet older man explained the Vanir Pantheon.
(- 'Truth is essential to Vanirs, Little One.'
- 'Yes, Grand Father, Truth is Life and… and without Truth, there is no Life possible. Because Truth is Order and … and Order gives Life … erm Chaos is Disorder and there is no life with disorder … and…'
- 'Chaos by Nature is instable, volatile but rich in futures, in possibilities. Chaos has potentials. Do not forget this, Little One. Chaos is rich in potential futures but He cannot concentrate, He cannot make sense of all these potentials, these possibilities. All the tomorrows look the same to Him because of his Madness. Thus Truth via Order can regulate Chaos, can show Him what is Right from Wrong, what can be, what must not be! Chaos needs Truth. It is vital for Him.'
- 'Chaos meets Order and Truth corrects … I am confused, Grand Father!'
- 'All in its good time, Little One. Your lessons are over today. What do you think we … ride together?')
(- 'Life only happens when Chaos is regulated by Order. Chaos gives his limitless Energy while Order gives herself to Chaos and Life is born. Because Order without Chaos is sterile, but Order with Truth however unpleasant it may be, can give Life through Chaos.'
- 'Does Chaos love Truth? Like AllFather, our AllFather (Not the Asgardian One!) loves AllMother?'
- 'He Does and He is a real God. Not a deluded man who thinks he is a God because he can live a very long life')
Relived through the fog of time past happy memories give a feel-good mood to Little One; give the strength to face the coming ordeal.
Day breaks; all becomes sharper. All becomes more defined.
Thor can see and he sees clear. More. A lot more.
Clear. Too much clear, knows the Vanir.
In the shadow, a sleeping wounded man groans in pain. The constant kind hand which has refreshed his brow, has succeeded in breaking the fever; the glamour is stabilized. Loki now waking up knows it; just like he knows he still cannot, will not revert to the Aesir form he despises. Son of Laufey he is and remains. A Frost Giant however small. Still half asleep, he hears voices.
Voices he knows. Deep and sonorous; like a thunder prowls over the plains. And he groans more. Because his side hurts. Because he is mercifully more guessed than seen in the friendly shadow. Because he knows who the voice belongs too. Mostly because he cannot show his skin markings anymore. When will he learn who his father is?
- 'I know you! Show your face to the Prince… the Eldest Prince of Asgard!'