Worlds parted before him, shimmering in his wake, and he stepped out into the cool blue of night. The trees around him rose high and proud, their boughs thick with green leaves and heavy with their golden bounty.
The orchard graced the valley outside of Asgard's walls, spreading well over two dozen acres, and surrounded with an impenetrable wall of tended shrubs.
No one had ever managed to climb those shrubs. Ankles were inexplicably caught and tangled, thorns unexpectedly stabbed hands (no matter how gloved and protected), and prickers caught clothing so well and hard that the poor intruder would be rendered quite immobile.
He grimaced at the… unfortunate memory.
Loki breathed in deeply, walking on the soft grass, the zesty perfume of the blossoms and fruit filling his lungs and bringing a sharpness and clarity to his senses, prickling through his mind in a pleasant, awakening manner. Oh, how he had missed this place! Loki smiled, walking unseen in the orchard, looking about and admiring the tended beauty. He remembered how he had wandered here in his youth— once he'd mastered the trick of teleporting— sneaking in and out, planting weeds and invasive vines to wrap around the trees just so he could watch the caretaker's face redden with frustration as she ripped them away and then turned to search for the trickster she knew to be lurking somewhere. Many a time he'd run away, laughing and invisible, as juicy oaths were hurled after him.
Speaking of the caretaker… light was just brushing the edge of the horizon.
She would be up soon.
And Loki needed a plan.
He crouched down and lifted an apple that had fallen, and casually tossed it up and down, looking up at the heavy branches above him. How easy it would be to take what he needed and disappear, cloaked as he was. But of course it was not so simple. It never was. Without the touch of their caretaker to awaken their magic, to warm their skin and fill them with golden light, the apples were nothing. Lovely to look at, their scent crisp and sweet, they were dormant and useless without her touch.
Unfortunately there was no way she would willingly give any to him. No matter his words of honey that had flattered and won her over many a time in the past.
Yet once she picked her daily harvest there was no retrieving them, for she would deliver her baskets to the kitchens for the evening meal and that would be that.
Unless…
Loki stood, and tossed the apple up and down, and smiled.
With a flash he disappeared, and stepped out into the forest beyond the orchard. He walked around, studying the trees, frowning as he thought. What could draw her out? What would be enough to capture her attention?
The apple was cool in his hand. Loki glanced down at it, and then his green eyes twinkled with inspiration. It would take a little time, but that was of no consequence. He had the time.
With only a little work he cut the apple open and divested it of its seeds. Selecting a spot on the edge of the forest— a small, mossy rise in direct sight of the orchard— Loki created a small hole with his fingers and nestled the seeds inside, covering them with gentle care in moist earth. Then he held his hand upon the soil, and whispered something in quick words. A glow rose up from beneath his hand, and then the soil under his palm moved, and something tickled his skin.
Loki smiled.
Leaving the little green sprout to grow, shielded from all sight till he gave the word, Loki then whisked his way back into the orchard and settled himself in the highest branches of one of the trees. He was just in time.
A lady fair stepped among the trees, dressed in a simple, undyed tunic belted at the waist, and carrying with her a pair of shears, the blades glinting with deadly light. Her hair was as thick as ever, held back by a simple braid, though a few strands still freely hung about her finely set features.
Her ochre eyes looked up, round and bright and searching.
Loki waited.
She stopped, staring, and then her eyes narrowed and she swung her shears up with practiced strength, and without any preamble she shut them fast, the blades snapping together with deadly force.
The dead branch, devoid of fruit or leaf, fell. It landed beside her on the moist ground with a thump.
Idunn reached down with a callused hand, and tossed the branch behind her on a small pile of other branches, some dead, others sick. Then she straightened and brushed her hair from her face, smearing some dirt across her cheek.
She was strong. The hardened, muscled power of her limbs was evident as she moved, and yet her motions were full of such fairness and grace that Loki was sure few recognized it.
Resting his elbows on his knees, Loki watched.
And he smiled.
All about Idunn was golden. From her long hair that was lightened from the sun, to her tanned skin, rich and warm in color; even her ochre eyes seemed to have the light of the setting sun nestled deep within their depths.
How often had he sat in the boughs of her trees, just like this, book in hand, reading in the peace and quiet? How often had she indulged him that peace, watching him grow from boy to youth?
When had he stopped taking advantage of that peace?
For most of the day she worked. She surveyed the state of her trees, watered those that were new and still small, and trimmed back some high grass and weeds that were attempting to creep in along the edges. By then it was mid-afternoon. Her long, pale locks had freed themselves more and more from their braided confines, and her suntanned skin glistened with dew. She gathered her tools, and cleared away the pile of cut branches. When she returned she carried with her a great stack of enormous woven baskets.
Finally. It is time. Loki leaned forward, his green eyes flashing.
Idunn set the baskets down beside the largest of her trees, and then she left again, only to immediately return with a ladder.
For over an hour she picked, till nearly all of her baskets were filled. Loki wondered that she was able to carry them, each basket easily holding two bushels of the rich, golden fruit, and he freely admired the strength of her limbs as she lifted a laden basket and carried it to a cart, already loaded with the rest of her harvest.
As she filled the last basket, he watched how gently she pulled the apple free from its branch. How the golden skin glowed beneath her fingertips, the rich light seeping from her hand and settling deep into the fruit.
If only he knew her secret…
She descended the ladder for the last time, and bent to pick it up, her shoulders bunching with the great weight she lifted.
Loki's eyes flashed, and he snapped his fingers.
The cloak dropped from the now fully grown tree, ripe with fruit, and it appeared upon the distant mossy hill. It glowed in the light of the sun, golden apples glinting and flashing as the breeze rustled its branches.
Idunn, ever attuned to her trees, abruptly let go of the basket and straightened. She twirled around and stared through her orchard, eyes searching till they found that distant mossy hill, and the surprise couldn't have been greater on her face.
"Where in Yggdrasil did you come from?" She murmured, her voice low and deep like the richest honey.
With all the grace of a wild hart she darted forward, disappearing under the thick boughs. Loki moved and craned his neck, searching, but by the time he saw her again she was already out of the orchard and gaining the distant hill. Bemused, Loki sat back on his branch and draped his arms over his knees. Norns. He'd never figured out just how she managed to slip out of the impenetrable hedge, whether there was a hidden door or whether it parted and opened only for her, or if she teleported as he did.
Quick as his eyes were, they were never quick enough to discover it.
She reached the hill and the tree, and was searching it. Loki ceased his watching.
The time was NOW.
Fast as ever he could Loki leapt gracefully from the branch and landed in a crouch on the rich earth beneath. Without a pause he pushed off, running to the baskets, where the mound of golden, glowing fruit just waited… ripe for the picking.
He lifted an apple and held it up. The light reflected in his eyes.
He grinned.
Three apples in quick succession were stowed in the pouch at his belt.
Stepping back Loki looked around. A strange feeling settled in his chest; he had missed this place, with its warm light slanting down through the green leaves, sparkling dust floating in the golden beams. The peace and the quiet and the sweet fragrance stilled his mind in a pleasant manner, his limbs tingling and refreshed.
But his time was up, and now that he had his prize he must move with haste. There were those who depended on it.
With renewed energy and spirit, he opened the space before him and stepped into its streaming light. The air closed, and there was nothing to mark his having been there.
For several minutes there was naught but silence.
Idunn entered her orchard, and walked through the trees, a pondering and distracted set to her face, carrying something in the folds of her tunic. She reached her abandoned basket, and stared down at the mound of golden fruit that filled it.
Her smooth, sun kissed face relaxed. Her eyes glowed and sparkled with amused warmth, and a soft smile touched her lips. She gently shook her head.
Then she released the folds of her tunic, and set three new golden apples on top of the basket.