Summary: The war between Jotunheim and Asgard draws to a close, but thanks to a horrible twist of Fate (or perhaps not), the nameless runt of Laufey-King is not discovered by Odin and so begins a remarkable journey of life that should not have been. Jotun!Loki AU. Set pre-/during-/after Thor/Avengers Assemble. MCU-verse only.

Warnings: ANGST! Loki-whump! Language, adult situations, violence, child abuse, dub-con, sexual assault (also of a minor), substance abuse, one abortion scene (sort of), slavery, sex trade (maybe), some mild original character/Loki M/M pairings.

Comments: This is not a slash fic. Sorry. It's Loki-centric, although I definitely show the rest of the Avengers and etc. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers. Marvel owns it. I do not get paid for this piece of work. Sadly, but understandably. LOL.

Well, this chapter and the following used to be all one piece but a few exposition parts got out of control. I apologize in advance! I AM SO SORRY! The next two chapters are just full of exposition and crap... But, we get a nice chunk this week, and I'll try to finish the second part in a week and post it in good time. (le sigh)

So... bring out the maps. Bring out the timelines! All are available on Tumblr (my tumblr name is kakashidiot also) and on photobucket. Enjoy.

It seems like more and more people are reading this fic. I'm like... WOW. Stunned! I'm so happy! Thank you so much guys. Particularly those who are reviewing or asking questions. Thanks to: InsolentKatt, Mishil, DragonsFlame117, IvySnowe, Chiharu-Angel, ClaMiAl, Double-Gemini, Guest, Sasasashika, CrazyRayRay113, wbss21, Winter Cicada and vonhinten.

Thanksgiving Week in America this week. I'm not American, but I wanna say that I'm thankful for all you guys who read and who fangirl with me. It's so great to hear from you~!

ALSO BE SURE TO CHECK OUT MY PROFILE! THERE'S NEW FANART UP THERE. Got some fanart of Elska now~! By Raiden Akutabi~! Thanks so much~


Distortions In Time
[Bitter Desolation, Incandescent Harmony]

Chapter 52
Listening To The Past I

It was too quiet. Too quiet, Helblindi thought as he wandered down one of the darkened back hallways after yet another conference with his Fylgja and the Court Advisory Council. The Ulfrbarn was not there poking his nose where he did not belong. Neither was Byleistr at his elbow nagging him for a change either... asking those useless questions of his. In fact, I have not seen either of them for the last few days. Helblindi sighed. Getting up to some kind of trouble no doubt... Pausing at the next window and peering out to eye the angry clouds overhead, the Crown Prince of Jotunheim frowned. Trapped in this place with two fools who play at politics for the theory of it... by Helheim, I hate the winter season...

As if summoned by the goddess Hel herself, Byleistr appeared at Helblindi's elbow.

"Ah. There you are," Helblindi eyed his younger brother sourly. "I was wondering when you would come around to inflict yourself upon me. You missed morning council – for the second day in a row. Are you and that creature up to something again?"
"Eh? Oh..." Byleistr glanced at his older brother in surprise. "No. No." Byla added nonchalantly – with a shrug – as the two turned away from the window and continued on their way. "He left the other day."

Helblindi paused mid-step and came to an unsteady halt.

"Gone? Gone where?"
"No need to be apprehensive," Byleistr moved onward – as if he were merely talking about the time of day and not about the fact that the abomination, who could bring about the ruination of Jotunheim if he so chose, had disappeared out from under the careful eye of the King. "He left. Was that not what you wished for?" Byleistr added snidely.

Helblindi paused a moment, considering Byleistr's dark mood, before replying carefully, "Now, that may be true – but it is wiser to escort him to the Doorway of the Paths and ensure his safety for leave-taking in the process."
"'Safety for leave-taking'?" Byleistr's fine eyebrows rose sardonically. "Safe leave taking? That is what we are calling it now?"
"Ai, Byla-"
"Don't 'ai' me," Byla growled and roughly banged their parents' shared parlour door open.

Striding in and ignoring the questioning looks of his parents, the younger Jotunn took Helblindi's usual spot before the fire pointedly, forcing Helblindi to subside with a hard glare to the smaller armchair.

"Byla is in a mood," Helblindi said by way of greeting at Farbauti's puzzled look.
"Well," Farbauti said, amused. "No doubt you said something again, 'Blindi. You should not be so rough with his feelings – one does not poke a wild jarnkottr and expect to come away unscathed."
"Huh."

Ignoring his sulky brother, Helblindi glanced at his Fylgja. Does he know where the Ulfrbarn went off to? Does he even know the Ulfrbarn even left?

"It is hardly my fault if Byla is upset his new 'friend' has decided to leave," Helblindi settled for an air of injury and annoying elderly brother wisdom.

Laughter fell from Farbauti's expression immediately as the words sank in. Silence fell across the room as Laufey and Farbauti shared a glance before looking over at Byla who now brooded over the bright fire. The young Prince picked up the long fire-iron cast to the side of the heart and pensively poked at the blackened logs of silvrelm. The fire crackled and popped in an obscenely cheerful fashion amidst the heavy quiet.

But then, Helblindi thought, Byla is always too sensitive to things when he is in the mood.

"He left, Byleistr?" Laufey asked quietly. "When? Why did you say nothing of this?"
"The day before last," Byla replied grudgingly. "Early in the morning. I thought you knew and did not care."

Really... Helblindi thought disbelievingly. That is what you thought? Or just wanted to believe?

"Why did he not say farewell?" Farbauti's voice was a little higher than usual. Troubled.
"He may come back."
"The Ulfrbarn did not leave Jotunheim?" Laufey's voice sharpened.
"No. I do not believe so – but I am not certain if he will return here-" Byleistr stopped and frowned. "Do I look like I can know his mind?"
"A fair enough assumption," Helblindi pointed out sharply, "considering how close you two were."
"Byla! Why did you not tell us-"
"Farbauti. It is done-"
"Done? This is the winter season – he will not survive the-"
"It was never meant to survive," Laufey reminded his consort. "Besides," the King had to add thoughtfully, "it is not as ignorant as you suppose. It knew better – and its will to carve its own path is strong."
"How could it-"
"Faetha," Helblindi sighed. "I am sure the Ulfrbarn knew, considering where he grew up..."
"Where did he say he was going, exactly?" Laufey pinned Byleistr with a hard stare.
"Meerauk," was the grudging answer.

The room fell silent again as Byleistr's quiet word rang uncomfortably about the stone walls. Golden light flickered – throwing their faces into sharp relief which wavered with the slight draft. Laufey was the first to stir. Helblindi felt breathless as though he had been kicked in the gut and had forgotten how to breathe. He remembered his first trek to the outskirts of Meerauk in the ceremonial footsteps of his Fylgja. Fylgja told me the paths are hidden – known only to the King and his Heir... A path shown over time or to those gifted few, it is a road taken with the aid of magick – yet even then, Fylgja told me that the first trip must always be led by the King. Surely... Helblindi eyed his Fylgja worriedly. Surely he is not considering the Ulfrbarn in all seriousness? No. No. It cannot be... Fylgja would have shown the paths to him first before letting the Ulfrbarn go alone... Then, rising horror as another thought occurred to Helblindi. Fylgja did not send him out knowing the Ulfrbarn would succumb to the storms and die? Surely, surely not...

"Foolishness," Laufey's voice finally rumbled loud and rough. "It goes to its death."
"That is what I said," Byleistr jabbed at a log viciously and the rough brown-black wood fell into the ash with a shower of sparks. "He did not listen-"
"He cannot – cannot survive in such weather-"
"Farbauti, love-"
"Can you sit idly by so easily, Laufey?" Farbauti's voice rose. "To let him die alone in the snow? Even as he is surely – surely-"
"You cannot do anything," Laufey's voice was soft. "Even if you wished to... even if I wished to..." Laufey glanced down and then up again, meeting his consort's sorrowful red eyes. "The Ulfrbarn would not have listened to reason, that I know... it is like me in more ways than I want to admit." A pause and then, "Furthermore, its will is strong – there is a chance self-preservation will force the child to turn back before it is too late."
"But-"
"If it dies, it will go with courage and with our blessing to those who have long awaited it."
"But why?" Helblindi asked, stunned, dismayed... puzzled. "To risk so much – and for what? Not for the throne – surely?"
"No," Byla shook his head. "Smar'brothir seeks for something I know not what, but the quest for knowledge drives him with great passion – and he believed his answer lay within the ruins. Somehow."
"It is Winter. The South Storms have come," Farbauti's voice was filled with dread. "No Jotunn, even the strongest and most hale, has ever dared to penetrate its heart during the harshest season."
"The Ulfrbarn is foolish, but brave – and impatient," Laufey sighed. "If it had sought our counsel, we would have told it to wait, and if it had waited but another two moon cycles... then..."
"Headstrong and courageous," Helblindi murmured.
"He would have made a great King-"
"BYLA!"
"Byleistr!"

Farbauti's and Laufey's voices clashed in anger at the young Jotunn's words. Yes, Helblindi thought, remembering the tiny creature's magic, wit and sense of stratagem. He might have – but... the volatility of his emotion, the wildness of his will, the taboo nature of his presence... it would have torn Jotunheim apart – and it still may, if left to fester...

"Bite your tongue," Farbauti sighed, glancing at Helblindi, no doubt more concerned about Helblindi's reaction to Byleistr's treasonous statement than the actual words themselves.
"I care not for the witless words of a gormless scholar," Helblindi replied stiffly. "Byla, after all, is not burdened with the fate of Jotunheim, and so can listen to his heart without thought to our collective future. In the spring season, a few years from now, I will tread the Path of the Kings... you cannot understand, Byla, but you should at least show me respect."
"I know," Byla grumbled, "and I do not say those words lightly nor in the presence of others... I know what you face – what Kingship entails. You will go to Meerauk by yourself, as Father taught you – but you will not find what you seek, I think... and what then?"
"Neither will the Ulfrbarn," Laufey said quietly. "It will only find death. To go alone to Meerauk and find the Path of the Kings is difficult at the best of times – and for the Lagreinn to go in the Winter Season..."
"He does not seek for the Path of the Kings," Byla said.
"Yet, he may find it," Farbauti mused. "With his magicks-"
"Do not raise witless hope, love," Laufey warned his mate.

A pause.

"The Ulfrbarn may not return from its quest this time, I fear."
"Smar'brothir-"
"It will not return, Byla. Do not wait for it. Forget it."

Farbauti leaned forward to clasp Byleistr's shoulder comfortingly but Byla only jerked away and, rising to his feet, swept out of the room without a further word.

He will not return, Heblindi told himself. He cannot return. By his own hand, in the end, Jotunheim will be cleansed.

-0-0-0-

I, Mage Forngeth, transcribed by Scribe Skriffa, in this the year sjau hundrath thusand a thrir thusand, ein hundradth a tveir tiu niu [703,129] of the Aevi'meth Frjalsu, Eftri'a'shlad [Fifth Age of the Cold Suns], and commit to the written word what my Faetha spoke to me and his Faetha before him and from generations past – for I fear that Time consumes our memory as the banked energies of our Magick and Heritage burn low. Let he who seeks knowledge take heed, therefore that he may parse the meanings, understand the Truth and then reveal it accordingly. [...] Yes, the signs of our descendants are filled with foreboding, but one may come who will see with clear eyes what must be done and right the wrongs of our past which continue to haunt us to this very Age.

[...]

The Path of the Kings, my Faetha's Faetha used to say, is a journey of the spirit given only to the True Heir and displays the natural inheritance of such youth. It is walked alone and those who take such a road heedlessly rarely return – for the end of the Road reveals the heart of Jotunheim, Faetha said, and the Truths of its Origins and the foundation of its Traditions. As such, it is guarded by the spirits of the For-Eldra and the Heimsrsal itself, which together working, provide the signs to those who are gifted. Nature itself provides the barrier, the test and the protection; yet, such knowledge, I fear, has become hoarded by ones who stand above – by the King, his Court and the Mages – and, as such, the reasons for our Rites are slowly lost to the people. Let he who seeks knowledge, take heed, therefore, that he may not obscure the meanings of all things, hide or lock away the Truth and so keep it as useless treasure for the sacred few.

[...]

Thus, I write – for the Path of the Kings surely leads to the city of ancient legend, to Meerauk, which lies, they say on the plains of Holknvollr hard by the Holdra River, south of the Grarfjall Mountains which surrounds the hamlet, Gastropnir. The ancient highway has, for generations, been obscured by snows and the ways are no longer made plain. Yet, the Sages, those tied more deeply to this cold Realm's roots, speak of a broad road which curves to the southern reaches and then disappears in giant ruins and great crevices. These, are, so they tell, are ancient Meerauk. I know the words of witless Giants are rarely heeded, but the Voice of Heimsrsal is sacred and those who hear Her Voice are the Chosen and are held close to her bosom with other secrets. Let he who seeks knowledge, take heed, therefore, that he may sharpen his inner ear to the songs of the Celestial Spheres, that he may sing with the Souls of the Realms and, in so doing, bear the burden of responsibility which all true Mages will bear to the end of Time itself.

[...]

Tales are many, yet truths are few – even fewer are those accurate tellings one can glean on Meerauk, the ancient city of Jotunheim. It had been a glorious place full of light and magick at a time when the worlds were young and life thrummed through the very particles of space, spawning What Is Seen from What Is Not – the very miracle of creation. Thus, the heart of Jotunheim was born, was carved within the ancient capital of gleaming black stone and ice and orbs of hanging light like Faerie globes and wide streets upon which paraded, upon which passed, Jotunn and many kinds of beasts of burden. The air, the Sages say, were filled with many winged creatures – dark-blue spirited ausa'songr fugl, darting flittermice and bumbling iss'hona'by. Above soared the rjothr'auga haukr and the broad-winged hjarr'veithr, which were fierce enough in their prime to blind a Jotunn – or so they say. Other beasts there were and upon their backs the Jotunn came to Meerauk – on the fabled snjarlang'hvartha and blar'iss hross, and there they lived on the Flat Plains with their glory and arrogance for all of Jotunheim to see. [...] Other cities there also were – Innagard and Utangard, the Twin Cities, so named for their mirrored qualities – if legend is to be believed – one born of day, one born of night. Today, however, there only lies Utgard, a pale reflection of its former state – the city of Power no more. Its brother city now perished thanks to the mysterious destruction which birthed the Eybjarg. Yet, in all their glory, Innagard, Tower of the Cold Sun and Utangard, Citadel of the Pale Moon, could not compare to the intricate, yet organic beauty of Meerauk, which had been raised out of the very aura of Magick itself, by the First Sages who walked when Time was not counted.

This I write so others may read, these tales I have told that the discerning ear may hear. Let he who seeks knowledge, take heed, therefore, that he may delve further into what even I, High Mage Forngeth of the King's Court cannot penetrate. Furthermore, upon entering into accord with Heimsrsal, and upon keeping a firm grip upon his faculties while undertaking the burden of encompassing the Truth, let him who is gifted so return to our people and remind us once again of the Will of Jotunheim.

I, Mage Forngeth, transcribed by Scribe Skriffa, in this the year sjau hundrath thusand a thrir thusand, ein hundradth a tveir tiu niu [703,129] of the Aevi'meth Frjalsu, Eftri'a'shlad [Fifth Age of the Cold Suns], lay down my pen.

Thus it is written.

-0-0-0-

It had been too long since he had felt such cold. Too long, Loki winced to himself as he wove a small working – a warming charm – to bring some life to his limbs as he trudged through the knee deep snow. Too long a time has passed since I have had to endure such freezing temperatures... even Asgard's highest mountains could not achieve the chill of Jotunheim... Loki clenched his teeth, pulled his warm wolf-skin closer about him and forged resolutely onward.

In front of him, behind, on either side of him there was nothing to see but white. White and grey and smudges of dark as the suns slowly set. A white wall which only intensified in thickness as the snowstorm increased in might. A blizzard, Loki huffed to himself. At times like these even the Great Black Wolf pack would hunker down to wait out the storm. Loki knew he would have to halt at some point, yet...

And yet... not yet... He told himself. Not quite yet.

As if moving on his own, his feet continued to rise and fall, pressing through the soft snow, walking easily on top of the harder crust below laid down earlier in the week. Drawn forward, Loki pressed onward, following the call, the whispers, the surging force of magick which he had first caught sight of just south of the Holdra River. Travelling southward, the little tendrils had thickened and widened until it roared past him as wildly as a strong river rushing down from the Storrfjall mountains of Asgard – and Loki, finding the life of Jotunheim which was so obviously missing from its nether reaches, revelled in the power as it surged about his feet.

Loki pressed on – until his toes went entirely numb and fatigue weighed like heavy stones upon his back. Drawing on the power about him and the power which he carried within and without, Loki easily raised the domed ice roof about his head and set to work on raising a small fire with the neat bundle of silvr elm branches which he had bound tightly and securely onto his pack. Once the fire was lit, Loki warmed the small rolls of bread and several skewers of eel which he had snuck out from the head cook's pantry. After his small meal, Loki curled up and fell asleep almost instantly.

Settled there alone in the wasteland, pressed down by the cold and the snow and the winds, surrounded by nothing but the voices of the wind, Loki's slumber brought memories to the fore.

He was riding upon Fenris, surrounded by the warm scent of wet fur and the call of the pack. Small fist clenched in black coarse fur, the Ulfrbarn raised his voice and warbled with the rest – as the tight-knit group thundered across Vithrvatn and headed toward the Offaerfjall Mountains in search of food. Always in search of food.

Overhead, clouds loomed, swirled about and a burst of golden light surged downward – a golden figure – a familiar form –

"Thor!" Loki called. "What in Helheim are you-"

But his words were whipped away by the wind and when blue eyes turned his way, Loki wondered if Thor would guess – could ever guess – who that wild creature, the wild savage was – no, Thor, he thought, you must understand. You must see reason – you must –

A surge of light, more and more frequent destructive rays of light fell onto the cold hard ground as numerous other warriors descended. Large companies in the traditional battle formations, each with their own shields, swords and spears and other smaller units of cavalry and archers. Loki's eyes widened as each phalanx angled itself with the sureness of experience on the foreign roughened plain of snow and ice, the numerous Asgardian faces, set in stone, as they turned to face the western skies in unison. It was horrifying, frightful even, to see them here on the world he had called home, knowing as he did what destruction they could wreck upon broken Jotunheim.

"Thor!" Loki's now hoarse voice once again failed to reach the tall figure of his brother. "What are you doing?"

Thor turned – and Loki's call died in his throat as the blonde hair glimmered lighter brown in the dying light, not golden and long and the blue eyes were unfamiliar. This was not the Thor he knew – not Thor – not Thor? - where was Thor where was he Thor Thor –

Loki jerked awake gasping, clawing his way to consciousness as the dream clung to him. No – no – nonono, he thought frantically. What – what – what was that? For a moment, he laid back, attempting to calm his harsh breath, yet the feeling of doom remained within his heart. He knew then that sleep would elude him for the rest of that night. Without further ado, Loki rose, tended the fire, fixed himself a small meal and then packed everything once again, dowsing the flames quickly with summoned ice before continuing on.

As his dome of ice melted behind him, Loki turned forward into the flow of magick and followed – his eyes no longer seeing the ongoing world of white about him. There was only a world of darkness before him now – the horizon blocked out by the eternal black towers rising upward proudly toward the cold suns and pale moons of Jotunheim. Utgard, he thought. Utgard perhaps. But... Utgard as it was?

Far beyond, far beyond, if he strained his eyes, he could see other towers across a mighty river which ran down the middle of a great, cavernous rift valley which separated the two cities. The city beyond rose pure and white and glimmered like a thousand shimmering gems, glorious and blinding. Something I have never seen before, Loki thought sadly, and will never see again... Jotunheim's past flows strongly here for those who would see. Loki remembered again the fragmented thoughts of the Mage who had written within the unbound journal of the King's Archives.

"Other cities there also were – Innagard and Utangard, the Twin Cities so named for their mirrored qualities – if legend is to be believed – one born of day, one born of night. Today, however, there only lies Utgard, a pale reflection of its former state – the city of Power no more. Its brother city now perished thanks to the mysterious destruction which birthed the Eybjarg. Yet, in all their glory, Innagard, Tower of the Cold Sun and Utangard, Citadel of the Pale Moon, could not compare to the intricate, yet organic beauty of Meerauk, which had been raised out of the very aura of Magick itself, by the First Sages who walked when Time was not counted."

Loki kept walking resolutely, following the stream of green and blue which now had widened and deepened. Around him, he knew instinctively that the storm, if possible, had worsened; yet, the slight Jotunn pressed onward, eyes fixed only on the trail which led into the nothingness of the white world.

A white city of gleaming towers. A dark citadel of glinting stone. A flat plain suddenly split in a blaze of magick and light and pouring out from its banks the waters of the Vollrvatn Lake surged forward from its shores to fill in the new chasm which had formed within the soil and rock. The birth of the Holdra River, Loki thought, catching a too short glimpse of two slight figures in the distance standing on either side of the newly formed river. So... it was true?

Past the river, a city rose and within its streets and deep within its labyrinthine foundations and underground passages, round globes of light hung, the leftover static and radiation of magick, Loki thought. Or something else entirely... He was standing on the large paving stones of the broadest street, watching one such globe hang in the air, offering a soft, pale blue sphere of light. His blue fingertips rose to touch it and –

There was the small altar to the For-Eldra standing before him. It was hard to forget - Loki rememberedall too well his younger self dusting it and rubbing its dark stone so that the grey and white flecks within the black granite glimmered gracefully. He had polished it until it gleamed and his tiny fingers were rubbed raw and sore - but how the white flecks of hvitr'steinn had glimmered faintly, even in the dusk. Like stars, he thought, his palm ran along the upper surface. Our ancestors number as the stars and shine down upon us.

"Do you not remember what I used to tell you every night? Who are the stars but those who love us? They shine down upon us," a familiar rough voice spoke, breaking into his thoughts, "because they are always looking down upon us, thinking upon us, grieving with us, laughing with us. They are the For-Eldra – and the stars remind us, in a way, that we are not alone."

"I feel lonely regardless," Loki said, stiffening and refusing to turn to meet those familiar dark red eyes. Elska's eyes. Is he disappointed in whom I have become? In the choices I have made? Does it even matter if I did disappoint him? He is dead. Dead. "I travelled to those stars... and there is nothing. Nothing but... a Void... the Void..."
"Ahhh," Elska sighed then, deeply. "I feared that doom the day I took you in my hands and cradled you to my breast. Take a chance, that is what my heart told me, my lost Heart bade me take the risk... I had hoped... We had all hoped..."
"It is not your fault-"
"And neither is it entirely yours."
"Not entirely?" Loki smiled then and turned with a grim smile and, looking up, met Elska's troubled eyes. "Such honesty from the Dead – if that is indeed what you are."
"You doubt me – or do you doubt yourself so much?" Elska drew closer and laid his hand upon Loki's head, his strong palm cradling Loki and drawing the slighter Jotunn closer. Loki found himself unable to resist.
"I do not doubt you," here, his voice fell to a husky whisper as tears gathered, "perhaps – perhaps I doubt myself, but that is necessary, is it not? To question? To wonder..."
"If it leads you to a path of better understanding and greater maturity, then yes," Elska replied gravely, "but if it brings you only to destruction, then do not – do not walk that road. Remember, dear heart, that although one feels alone, although one feels pain and regret and sorrow and loneliness, we look down upon you with pride. You are young - you look at the worlds and see nothing - but even there - even there, dear one... We. Are."
"We?"
"Yes, all of us who stand in the great beyond and see the Truths of Time watch with pride and joy, for you are destined to great things, little one. Great things if you so choose."
"I thought – I do not know what I thought, but surely in Helheim –"
"Helheim is only open to those who believe, to those who wish to sojourn there... and for those whose hearts are pure, there are other glorious Halls and golden Realms. Yet, we are neither bound to the halls of Helheim nor to the golden land of Valhalla... Come now, little one," Elska chided softly, "did I not say that the Jotunn of Jotunheim carve out their own destinies? Our lives are not constrained by death, nor by the errant thoughts of other Realms... Trust us, dear heart, and know we are here," and with that Elska drew Loki into a firm embrace before releasing him and disappearing into the white, "we are here, waiting. Always."

[...always...]

[...this lesson so hard to learn...]

[...so easy to forget...]

Once upon a time, when the Realms were young as a babe and Time had not yet been counted – before hardships inflicted the Cosmos That Was, Jotunheim was a paradise in which creatures, spawned out of the inner fiery depths and still running waters, lived in relative peace.

...relative peace...
...peace is so fragile...
...so fragile...

...no one knows the time or day, but what is certain – and, since the Mal'a'Hlad, forgotten – is that the Jotunn were a people as diverse as the beasts and the swimming creatures and the flying things already making their home in the Realm.

...out of the snows they came...
...thus they were born...
...to the snows they return...
...the snows of the For-Eldra...
...great and small...

Great and small. Yes, my child, Jotunn grew tall as the sky, and thus gained great might and hardiness. A darker, grimmer blue they wore on their skin and their frames were stout and muscled. Exceptional warriors and diligent in their labours of farming and building, these Jotunn continued to grow in great numbers and, in so doing, placed their mark on Jotunheim even to this day.

...yet...
...and yet...
...there were others...

Yet, there were others. Those whom we do not speak of. Those whose names were all but erased. Those whom even Time has seemed to have forgotten.

...but the Heimsrsal never forgets...
...not really...
...not as long as we live...
...and remember...
...always remember...


HOW DID THAT LAST SCENE HAPPEN? GAH! Let me know if it was too much. I may remove it. BLAH. ELSKA FEELS! SUDDEN ELSKA FEELS~ So not for the win.

OK. So, NaNoWriMo ended... and I didn't get the writing challenge done. Only halfway... (so disappointed in myself)... but on the other hand, I got sleep and I got this chapter hammered out, such as it is. Hopefully you guys will like it and let me know so I feel even more pumped to shake the next part into better shape. It's a toughie, let me tell you.

Also, the special side story, I'll be writing sometime this week, I hope, and will PM/email/fanmail those who contact me by PM-ing, sending me their Tumblr address or their email. This is only for those who review chapter 48 onward. More Elska and Vaetki fluff. That's what I'm promising.

Thanks so much guys,
I appreciate you all!
-KI

Alien Glossary:

'auzha – fucker
Dou'ma – idiot
r'senk'ne – a kind of deer/cow hybrid
n'ch'nka – a kind of cow
chi'iano – a radioactive piece of rock similar to uranium
cho'ai - lover
kol-sava'atha – a titanium-rich ore
Morning-star - a mace.
oma'auzha – mother-effer
oto'oa - big sister
udji'oo – a drug, like opium

Asgardian Glossary:

bikkja – bitch
Brenna-Fir – the Immolation
Drakka Thyod – Dragon Race
ergi - womanly, weak, "gay"
Fiendfyre – a phoenix-firebird
Flauguna – flying feet/teleportation
fotr'ro - footstool
Ginnung – the Void
harhvila - high bed
Hiti-mothr – Flame Fury (also known as Lachruth)
Kaesia-Seithr – Spirit-Spear style
Koma a Aldr – Coming of Age
Kveykva-herklaethi – Light Armoured style
Laegja – the Immersion
Ofolr Leith – Dark Paths, Other Ways (crossing the Void)
Ominni-tith - the Forgotten Times
Rikr-Hringraevi – Grand Cycles of Time
Runa a Fyrsta – Rites of Initiation
Runa a Kelda – Rites of Spring
Runa'a'vetr – Winter Solstice
Saga-Vefr – Story-weavers
seithr - magic
seithrmaster - mage, sorceror
Skjald-borhyrr – Wall of Flame
Skipa – the Infusion
Skokkr-a-Mir – concealment skills, Box of Mirrors (also known as Col'ca-cenedril)
stormerki – mysteria
Tveir-Andlit – illusionary skills, Double Face
Velspara-Speki – the Well (of Wisdom)

Elvish Glossary:

skreyppa – slippery one
gargani – snake
fintalenir – trickster
vanwa – defeated one, impolite term for "loser"
caitahto – liar
curunar – fiery one
Lachruth – Flame Fury
Col'ca-cenedril – Box of Mirrors
Cebir-Gondlug – Spike-Stone Dragon
Am'loce Norie – Dragon Race
raudhaust – high bed

Jotunheim Glossary:

Aldinn Stathr – Ancient Place
Almror'ganga - Long Range Weapon Contest
Arlang'leith – the Annual Caravan
Atfirth – energies
ausa'songr fugl - flow-songbirds

blakkrbjorr – black beer
Blakkrbjorn – black bear
blakkrgras – black grass
blargras – blue grass
blar'iss hros - black ice horse
Brandr'ganga - Unarmed Combat

Dagaheim
Dauthr'ganga - Death Duel
dvegr – dwarf
dyrspeki – zoologist

Eybjarg (Chasms of Forever)

Faetha'snaer - "Mother", "who births the snow"
fauld – a part of armour around the lower midsection
Fjor'fylgja – Life Mate
Flara River – Treacherous River
For-Eldra – Ancestors
Forn Vegr – Old Ways
Frothleikr'ganga - Battle of Magick
Fylgja'snaer - "Father", "who aids the snow"

Gastropnir
Glima'ganga - Battle of Swords
Gnottvatn (Lake of Abundance)
Gothahus – temple
Grarfjall – Grey Mountains
grarulfr – grey wolves
Griotunagardar

hafnathr – sea serpents
heillgrjot – healing stones
Heimsrsal – Soul of the Realm
heithrsker – crystal flowers
hjarr'veithr - rabbit chaser (a kind of eagle)
Holdra River – Hero's River
holkimurtr – small flat fish
Holkn Vollr – Flat Plains
holmganga – a method of ending feuds/disagreements
hota-eik – white oak
hvaeta – wheat
hvitr'steinn - white fire stone

Innaheim – Inner Realm
iss'hona'by - ice honey bee

jarnkottr – iron cat (beast which Laufey released in Thor)
jarnvithr – iron wood

Kaldrfjall (Cold Mountains)
Kero Fornvetr – Casket of Ancient Winters
kostrboth – a method of proving virility for the purpose of marriage

lagreinn – small one (epithet)
lagr'hyggr – fool
Lengi Ofrithr – Long War
luthrblom – trumpet flower

manisilfr – moonsilver
Meir'brothir – Older Brother
melrakki – white fox
Myrkr Skogr – shadow forest

Nattura – spirits
Northri Stjarna – North Star

rjothr'auga haukr - red-eyed hawk

silvralmr – silver elm
silvrfiskr – silver fish
Sithr Efingi – True Heir
Skalldi
skordyr – Jotunheim goat
Smar'brothir – Younger Brother
snaerharra – snow rabbit
snjarlang'hvartha - snow camel
Storrholl – Great Hall

thurblakulfr – giant black wolves
tunglbom (moonflower)

Utanheim – Outer Realm
Utgard

vaetki – nothing
ventrmellin – winter melon
villrkyr – wild ox
Virtha Aevi – Coming of Age
Vit'ganga - Battle of Wits
Vollrvatn – Lake of the Plains