Chapter 11:
Loki shifts, adjusting his position along his perched upon branch, disturbing not a thing as eyes, sharp and gazing, travel along the expanse of forest floor. Searching.
And there he sees it. The slightest movement in the brush, three hundred yards ahead and forty degrees to his immediate right.
A doe. Young, he can tell. Well camouflaged.
But his eyes see her just the same.
And he is silent as he reaches back, drawing an arrow. Silent still as he places it against the string of his bow, pulling it taught and aiming.
The quiver he made. And the arrows and bow. Carved and crafted to exact measurement and weight and balance. Built to fit him.
He is a master marksman. Better with these things than even Thor. Ever has it been a point of pride for him. One of the few.
He remembers his renown through all of Asgard for his incredible speed and accuracy, and he is torn between a smile and bitter frown. For his skill had been respected. But it drew from people only further distrust and critical accusation of cowardice. The same regard for his abilities with his throwing knives.
Only cowards, they would say, would hone to perfection weapons of distance.
But he tries not to think of that now, his eyes narrowing on the animal in his sights.
It has been a fortnight since he and Thor have come here. They had spoken, and come to the decision to stay, if only for a short time, among these woods and mountains. It would be safer for them here, they had concluded, given the lack of human populace and well sheltered surroundings.
For Loki, it was ideal.
The cold bothered him nothing at all.
But he knew for Thor it was not, and that, eventually, they would have to move on from this place, to somewhere in the least warmer.
Thor was of the sun, of gold and light.
He needed these things to thrive.
But for now, they had agreed to stay, having since moved their encampment to a cave formation a mile out from where initially they had landed. A place which provided adequate shelter from the oft violent snow storms and the blowing chill of wind.
Thor still required bundling up each night in thick furs and pelts. And on nights especially cold, Loki had taken to sleeping alongside him, spooned against his back and arms wrapped tight round his torso. As they had done as children when stranded some place of unkind environment.
They had agreed that at all times, one of them should remain behind at the cave while the other went out on a hunt or in search of some other food.
Today was Loki's turn to bring them back something to eat, and as he always did, he'd climbed to the canopy and waited.
This particular deer, he had been tracking for well over an hour now, moving from tree to tree as she had roamed through the thickets and brush of the floor, following her.
And finally he had a clear shot.
His fingers were loose on the bowstring, hand pulled tight and tucked under his chin. Slowly, he breaths in.
"I promise to make it painless darling." He speaks aloud in a whisper. "Your spirit will still be your own, and your body will provide well for others so that they may yet live. I swear your death will not be in vain."
He lets go his breath, the string sliding along the pads of his middle and forefinger, closer to the tips.
Ready to loose…
BANG!
A deafening shot rings out, ricocheting and echoing off the surrounding mountains. Flutters of birds emerging from the tree tops, flying frenzied off into the sky.
The deer flees, hooves heavy before the sound disappears with her into the trees, and Loki pulls back, letting the arrow dip from his fingers, its feathered end slack against the string.
His face twists in annoyance, his attention drawn as he turns sharply, looking through the clearing in the direction of the shot.
Men…
Men and their guns.
He hears them, maybe a thousand yards out. Arguing bitterly with one another.
"Du idiot! Du skremt den av!"
"Det var din feil! Du fortalte meg å ta bildet!"
"Jeg tror ikke du vil gå glipp av! Jeg trodde du sa kan du skyte!"
Loki rolls his eyes. Of course, they bicker over whose fault it is that they've lost the kill.
The young god chastises himself inwardly for not having before noticed them.
They must have only just reached the area. It would explain his being oblivious to their presence until now.
Likely they used one of their mechanical traveling machines to bring them. Loki is certain they haven't made the trek of foot or horseback.
He looks, and sure enough, he sees the grotesque, red monstrosity some eight hundred meters from where the men now stand.
Typical.
After a moment, annoyance slips to resignation, and he falls back, hitting the trunk behind, sitting against it as he lets his legs dangle off the branch.
He'd been so close to securing their dinner for the night, and then these nitwits had had to interfere.
Now he was going to have to find some other animal, which likely could take all day, or resort to gathering.
He throws a hand across his face, sighing in exasperation.
He truly did not need this.
His hand falls away as he hears the men break through the clearing, and he peers down, seeing them stumbling about, twisting and turning, searching for the doe, faces lined with bewilderment.
They are fat and short, carrying under their arms rifles too powerful for hunting deer with.
"Målløs ass! Jeg hadde plass plukket ut på min vegg der jeg skulle henge hodet hennes!" One of them shouts, giving the other a shove.
"Veggen? Det var MIN shot. Hennes hode ville ha tilhørte på mine!"
Loki feels himself tense in anger.
So they were hunting her for sport.
Filthy insects. They did not deserve her then.
The god has half a mind to kill the useless mortals where they stand.
He can feel his fingers twitching with the need, just begging him to pull back the arrow he still holds and let it loose from his bow. He could kill them both with one shot, easily.
… But Thor…
Ah, sentimental Thor…
He would be enraged, Loki knows.
It is something he still does not understand. This love Thor has for these pathetic, ungrateful creatures.
They do nothing but use and horde, letting their greed and fear guide them, never satisfied, always scrambling for power and control. Loki supposes because their existence is so very miniscule and without consequence.
They are utterly meaningless, and so they seek some way to give themselves meaning.
His lip curls.
He hates them entirely.
He does not know what he was thinking when he sought to rule them. Such rule over so weak a race would be hollow as is.
He is about to move on and leave the two mortals to their arguing when he freezes, hearing the sound of cracking branches and snapping brush.
And then his voice…
…No…
"LOKI!" Thor shouts. "LOKI!"
Damn it all to Hel, he must have heard the shot and thought…
"LOKI! WHAT HAS…"
He sees Thor break through, and freeze suddenly before the two men, the both of them also stopped, staring wide eyed and puzzled at the thunder god.
Thor towers over them by a good foot and a half, Mjolnir held tight in his grip, looking every bit the intimidating force he is.
Loki sees the fear and panic come across the men's faces before it manifests in action. And in an instant, they are raising the barrels of their guns, aiming directly at Thor.
Their weapons at this distance will do nothing to him but leave him bruised. But still the sight of him being threatened sets Loki off, his features twisting in rage, a snarl escaping past his lips.
"Som det fuck er du?" One of them shouts.
Thor remains where he is, face hard in anger.
"What have you done with my brother?" He replies hotly.
In an instant, Loki has leapt from the trees, landing with hardly a sound between Thor and the men, rearing up to his full height and reaching out.
The men startle, stumbling back and eyes huge as Loki takes hold the barrels of their guns.
"They have done nothing with me." He says calmly in answer of Thor's question, his fingers curling over the metal, crushing it in until the openings are flattened, and he bends them down, further distorting the shape, rendering the weapons useless.
The fear in their faces increases a hundred fold, and Loki tears the guns from their hands, tossing them violently aside.
"You dare threaten a son of Odin?" He spits, voice rising as he takes a step closer, and the men scramble backwards, tripping over themselves and falling clumsily to the ground, panicked gasps escaping their throats.
Loki does not falter, advancing on them and reaching down, taking hold of them by the collars of their shirts and lifting them bodily into the air, holding them up.
"Pathetic, human trash!" He hisses.
"Loki!" Thor finally comes back to himself, reaching out, placing his hand along his brothers shoulder, trying to calm him.
He sees the overwhelming anger in the younger god.
Is familiar with it.
Many times before has he encountered it. Seen others at its receiving end. Been himself the target.
Never has it ended well for those Loki's anger is directed upon.
"Brother, calm yourself." He tries, softening his voice.
Loki does not turn to look at him. Does not let the men down as they hang, whimpering and terrified from his hands.
"They dared threaten you." He says simply, as though that should be explanation, and excuse enough for his actions now.
"But they are no threat Loki." Thor replies. "Please, let them down."
"Why?" Loki bites back, eyes still blazing, glowing green now as magic runs through him. "Why should I show them mercy?"
"Because…" Thor says softly. "they are no threat brother. You only endanger our position if you bring harm upon them. They will tell others of us."
Loki's face hardens.
"They will tell others anyhow."
"… Maybe." Thor answers. "But they will hunt us if we kill any of their kind."
"I would like to see them attempt it." Loki snarls.
"Brother…"
And finally Loki growls in frustration, letting the men drop unkindly to the hard packed snow.
He turns, avoiding Thor's gaze as he brushes past the elder god, running a hand through his hair, smoothing it back from his face. His hands are shaking. Thor sees. And he realizes then how close his brother was to killing these men.
He breathes out in cautious relief, swallowing as he watches Loki a long moment, beginning to pace back and forth, his agitation clear, before turning back to the men.
By now, they have gotten again to their feet, and they are watching the two gods with astonished horror, themselves trembling. One of them, Thor notes with some amusement, has wet themselves.
His amusement does not last long though as the other reaches behind himself and suddenly produces a six inch, serrated blade, wielding it clumsily, slashing it through the air at them.
Loki sees the movement right away, and again he advances towards them, edged hard and threatening.
Thor reaches out, grasping tight to him arm, halting him in his tracks.
"No Loki…" he commands, and Loki turns, glaring up at him in disbelief.
"They threaten us both now Thor." He says, trying to pull his arm free.
But Thor holds fast, not letting go, ignoring his brother as he addresses the men.
"We mean you no harm friends." He tries gently.
Loki scoffs, rolling his eyes.
The men stare, not answering.
"We only pass through these woods on our way home. To a town a short distance outside the base of these mountains."
"Du er ført skyld over på privat eiendom!" One of them snaps dumbly. "Dette er et privat spill reservere!"
Thor's brow furrows in confusion. He doesn't understand, and now he looks to Loki for answers.
He knows his brother has long been fluent in all the many tongues of Midgardian men. It was a task Loki had set for himself in his greater youth, learning in under a day every language and every variation in dialect the humans had ever created. Even those languages lost to man and long since thought dead by them.
He remembers how Loki had laughed when asked about it, saying he had merely been bored, and thought it a sufficient way in which to occupy his time until something more challenging could catch his interest
"What does he say brother?" He asks.
Loki's mouth is a hard set line, and for a long moment, he does not reply, his eyes fixed hard and cold on the man.
Until finally he answers, voice rigid with barely suppressed rage.
"… He says these lands are privately owned, and that we trespass where we are not allowed."
Thor's face lines in only further confusion, looking back to the man.
"… We only pass through." He tries again to explain. "We are not intending to stay."
"Vi kan har du anmeldt, du to!" He goes on as though he hasn't heard Thor.
But both Thor and Loki know he has, and that he understands. They speak the all-tongue. Their words come out sounding as the men's own language.
"Vi vil! For overfall og ført skyld over!"
"What says he now brother?" Thor again asks Loki.
But Loki can no longer keep his anger in check, and he rips away from Thor, moving swift forward. And he is upon the men in an instant, once more reaching out.
He takes hold of the blade, the flimsy Midgardian steel crumpling under his grip as he crushes it in on itself, a flash of green energy surging from his fingers and through it.
In moments, the blades hilt glows red hot, and the man screams, releasing his grip, his palm already blistering and peeling with burns.
Loki tosses the ruined knife away. A moment after and he again has taken hold of the both of them, again lifting them up, higher now so that they are held above his head, holding them as though they weight nothing at all.
"You announce ownership over this land?" He spits heatedly. "You dare lay claim to it? Land which for millennia before your pathetic, inconsequential existence has resided, and which will for millennia more after you are snuffed from reality and forgotten to the winds of time? You dare tell us, proclaim to us, who walked this very ground at the inception of its current state, that we are not allowed upon it? That we may not have passage? You threaten arrest and punishment to us for violation of your rules? You sniveling, weak, disgusting parasites, who spoil the very soil which allows you your meaningless lives! You are without right to dictate to us. To tell us anything at all! And without right to any place, any territory of Midgard, or any realm other than here. You are not worthy of the dirt you soil with your presence."
"Loki, stop." Thor finally interjects, again reaching out to touch his brother's shoulder, his anxiety from before returning worse.
This time, Loki shrugs him off.
"I will kill them Thor." He says flatly. "They deserve death for the disrespect they have shown to us."
"Loki, NO!" Thor shouts now, panic gripping his heart. "Let them go brother. Please."
"I will make it quick, if that will satisfy you." Loki goes on, as though he hasn't heard Thor at all. He turns, looking to the elder prince.
His expression if frighteningly calm.
Like he feels nothing at all.
And Thor feels sick.
"I can rupture their organs. Death will happen in but an instant. They will feel hardly a thing."
The men begin crying, whimpering loudly.
"Loki, I WILL NOT let you do this!" Thor's voice is again raised, and now he steps forward, grasping one of Loki's wrists, hard enough to nearly crush the bone. "Release them now or I will make you!"
And suddenly, emotion flutters across the smaller gods features, brow creasing in confusion, eyes bright with it.
"What?" He asks.
"I will make you if you do not voluntarily let them go." Thor repeats, voice even.
The lines across Loki's forehead etch deeper.
"… Thor, they threaten us. Our well being." He repeats, voice matching his puzzlement. "They threaten you. An offense punishable by death. By Odin's decree…"
"Loki, let. them. down." Thor says again, grip not loosening. "Do not force me to make you. You are wrong in this. I will not let you murder these men."
In an instant, the confusion is gone.
And in its place, consuming hate. Overwhelming anger.
"Murder?" Loki says.
Thor keeps his gaze, struggling under the heat of that glare.
"Murder?"
Loki drops the men, and at once, he's ripped his wrist free of Thor's grasp, stumbling back a step, as though the thunder gods hand had burned him.
"… I would… I would seek to protect you, and you would call it murder?" He spits, and his voice is thick with emotion.
"Loki, that is not…"
The trickster gods eyes fill with tears, and he cuts Thor off.
"Would you not do the same?" He asks, voice hitching and strained higher with desperation. "Would you not have slain these men where they stand had their weapons been aimed towards me?"
Thor's brow furrows, mouth pulling into a deep frown.
He says nothing.
"What then of… of the doe they sought to kill? Not in necessity Thor. Not for… for provision. But for sport. For their own amusement. Was that not murder? Do they not deserve some form of recompense for so vile an act?"
Still, Thor says nothing.
He knows not what to say.
Not how to answer.
Because he knows Loki is right.
He had been ready to smite them, had been moments away from raising Mjolnir and striking them down when he thought they had done his brother harm.
He wants to say it.
To tell Loki.
He feels the words on the tip of his tongue, waiting to spring forth.
But he hesitates, because he knows how easily, how quickly Loki will undo these men should he validate it to him. Should he give him what Loki will deem consent.
There will be nothing he can do.
Loki need only lay his hands on them to turn their insides to liquid.
He is afraid.
And he hesitates.
And that moment is long enough for Loki to break.
His face crumples, and he turns from Thor, hands coming up, long, white fingers burying, ripping at black, black locks. Black as raven's wings. Skin white as snow.
A low pitched keen escapes Loki's throat, and Thor hears him choke…
"But I am a monster." He sobs, voice fissured and cracked. "I am a monster, and all things of me are wrong."
And Thor can do nothing, cannot move, frozen and stiff as he watches, helpless, his little brother run away.
Run in panic, in hopeless despair through the trees, vanishing in an instant in a flash of green and smoke and blinding, white light.
/
AN: Loki was shown with a bow and arrow in Ultimate Thor, and it strikes me as the kind of weapon he would be an expert with. I think he's probably good with all long range weapons. So, yeah, that's where that comes from.
And, you know, Loki's a scholar and a genius among gods, so it makes sense to me that he'd be able to speak every language created by man. That it would be a fairly easy task for him to learn all of them, even.
I'm intent on writing Thor and Loki as actual gods, so they're going to be shown as powerful as a god should be in my story.
Sorry for the delay in this update. My computer died on me and I just got it back, haha. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Reviews are appreciated!