"Morning!"
Starting awake, Loki froze just in time to keep from striking Book, who leaned over him, hands clasped behind his back.
"Jumpy much?" the boy asked, still overly cheerful. The glow around the transom windows suggested the sun hadn't been up for long.
Loki forced himself to visibly relax despite the race of his heart. The knife half into his palm was surreptitiously edged back into his sleeve. No need for the boy to know he'd taken to secreting knives. They were hardly the kind of fare he was accustomed to, but they were sharp and better than nothing. Several local eateries had "donated" them to the cause and he was fairly certain Book only knew about the pocket knife he had grudgingly acquired for Loki.
Allowing his irritation to manifest on his face, Loki gestured angrily, pointing emphatically at the still pale light creeping through the windows.
The boy ignored him. "This," he said as he held up a bottle, swirling the clear liquid inside, "is for your teeth. You swish, you gargle, you spit."
Loki's nose wrinkled as he caught the scent of strong Earth alcohol. A pitiful imitation of Asgardian libations. The thin, sharp scent reminded him more of the solvents used by the court artists when they painted the royal portraits.
Book shook the bottle under Loki's nose. "You don't drink this. Got it?"
Loki would rather drink troll sweat.
Narrowing his gaze, Book bored into Loki's eyes. "If you do, I'll breath morning breath all over you," he said, the threat strong in his voice. "I promise you, it ain't pleasant."
Crossing over to one of the crates that formed the wall separating them from the main warehouse, Book folded down the front of what had previously appeared to be a solidly nailed shut box. He tucked the vial inside among what appeared to be blankets, some cans of food, other items Loki couldn't fully make out, and not surprisingly, books.
Impressive. He would never have suspected there to be anything special about that crate from any of the others. It was quite the hiding place. More importantly, it hadn't even occurred to him that the boy had anything to hide.
Securing the box, Book settled on another crate that jutted out from the wall for seating. He tucked one leg under him and suppressed a yawn. "Preventative measures are key. Take care of your body, take care of your teeth. Alcohol will kill near about anything, including all the lovely creepy crawlies in your mouth." He leaned forward, eyes widened in excitement as his voice pitched higher. "Did you know there can be hundreds of species of bacteria living in your mouth? How crazy is that? That's why we need a backup if we can't get our hands on toothpaste. Just make sure you don't spill it and you rinse real good. Don't want to smell like a sot."
Given the lingering scent of the alcohol, Loki swore to never to let them run out of the sparkly blue gel they used to scrub their teeth. To Book he merely nodded and then gestured at the hidden compartment.
"Preppers ain't got nothing on me." The boy leaned back and swelled with pride. "Made it myself. It's the coolest thing ever." He rapped the back of his knuckles against its side. "Remember how I said that you always carried everything you needed in your bag? Well, if you're lucky enough to be sorta settled, it would do you well to have a stash—or better yet two, one nearby and one hidden away elsewhere in case you gotta run. When times are good you store up some extras for when they're not. Never anything you can't afford to lose." He reached down and patted the rugged knapsack at his feet. "The bag is still everything."
Loki nodded. He could see the wisdom in it, but it was so cumbersome to actually carry everything on your person. If he'd had his magic he'd simply have secreted things in the spaces between. If. He shook himself. That way lay only discouragement and pain.
"On your feet. Time to hunt up some food, and then," Book paused as excitement burst across his features, "then your education continues."
The sheer excitement was new. Book still continued to share bits of his street wisdom—and Loki was forced to admit the boy had gathered many helpful strategies for surviving this life—but he was rarely so gleeful about it. With his curiosity somewhat peaked, he followed Book out of their sanctum in search of breakfast.
Luck was with them that morning and before long the two were fed and supplied with goods for a mid-day meal as well. Book led them toward the town's heart, passing the columned porches and white-sided steeples of several churches, crossing through a shaded splash of green, and exiting onto a street of little shops. This section of town bore its age in the details of the buildings, the roundness of the bricks, and the individualized character of each separate store front. The broad sidewalk ran underneath the occasional striped awning and was bordered by evenly spaced trees set into rings of dark mulch. Voices already drifted through many of the shops. A handful of people leisurely sipped coffee at clusters of little tables on the sidewalk or perused tables of wares that spilled out into the walkway.
"There it is!" said Book as he tugged at Loki's sleeve.
The building stood across the street from them with two sweeps of stairs leading up to the large, paneled door. This was a building craftsmen had spent some time on, the decorative details setting it apart from the generic designs Loki had seen in other parts of town. Broad white sills and trim bordered red brick, curled stone cornices topping every door and window. Loki only caught a glimpse of the side, but it seemed the building rambled away, having been added to at some point in the past.
Glancing both ways despite the emptiness of the streets, Book hauled Loki across the pavement and up the stairs. "They'll have just opened," he said as he heaved at the door, which nearly knocked Loki back with its heaviness. "My home away from home," declared Book as he spread his arms wide, encompassing the open foyer and polished floors.
A scent washed over Loki, one that brought childhood memories bubbling up. The scent of dusty sunbeams and crackling bindings. A thousand hours tucked into hidden corners and devouring every scrap of information he could find. His heart twisted in his chest. He turned to Book, unsure of how to ask what he wanted. Finally, he placed his palms together and then opened them as if cracking a great tome.
The boy grabbed his coat sleeve and tugged. "Yep, a library. Boon to the un-homed and vagrant-lifestyled everywhere." He lowered his voice. "But don't let them know we're on the street. They'd have services on me in a heartbeat if they knew. And they'd think they'd be helping."
Kindly older women sat behind a worn desk, nicks and scratches revealing the years of various stains and varnishes. The slighter of the two women waved a neat hand at Book and gave him a broad smile. The boy gave a playful salute and tugged Loki deeper in, away from the lofty, crown-molded ceilings of the entry toward the switchbacks and labyrinthine turnings of the stacks.
"Got another rule for you."
Loki raised an eyebrow.
"Don't look at me in that tone of voice. We had a deal, and I'm going to make sure you can make it on your own. And you are so not ready to be rereleased into the wild." Book gave a yelp as Loki flicked him upside the head. He rubbed his temple. "I wish you wouldn't do that. Anyways, if you're not just surviving, you're working, and if you're not working, you're learning. Never waste time if you can help it. You don't need a school building to learn—history is full of people who learned simply by reading whatever they could get their hands on. Autodidacts they're called." The boy beamed and glanced around the library. "This place is my ticket out. Get me a GED and then a scholarship to college and with God as my witness, I'll never sleep in a cardboard box again!"
Well, a god, thought Loki with a smirk.
An unexpected crack of thunder suddenly shook the building. Loki flinched. He hadn't gotten used to the near daily occurrence of rumbling thunder or heat-lightning branching across the night sky. Normally it waited until the afternoon, however.
Book grinned and pointed at the rain smattering against the arched windows. "And this is the second reason to love the public library. A roof that doesn't leak in the rain, air conditioning in the summer, and heat in the winter. Our tax dollars at work!"
The comforting sound of rain thrumming against the building followed them through an open space strewn with tables and chairs toward another section of books guarded by an unmanned counter. Book glanced around tentatively.
"Maybe she's not in today," he said quietly.
"And the slacker returns," came an annoyed voice from among the shelves by the counter.
The boy winced and shot Loki a sheepish look. "Don't mess with Kayden," Book whispered, "she'll eat you soon as look at you if you cross her."
The owner of the voice stepped from behind the shelves and fixed Book with a hard stare from behind her square, heavy rimmed glasses. She had the thick, hardy build of Asgardian peasants, but none of their cow-like docility in her broad face. Mild annoyance pressed into the corners of her lips as quick, tigrish eyes flicked over them. Planting her black-nailed hands on her broad hips, she radiated a sense of immovable attitude.
"The Russians are still in your pile," she said.
Book dug his toe into the carpet. "Come on, Kayden. They're bricks."
"You managed to get through The Lord of theRings without a problem."
"They're just so…Russian."
"Your observation astounds." Kayden reached behind the counter and jerked out a sizeable volume, slapping it into Book's hands.
He hefted the novel, "Crime and Punishment? Really? I'm the only one here that gets an assigned reading list when he comes to the library."
"Build a bridge." She turned all her attention to Loki, "Who's the bean pole?"
He bristled at her insolence. Though she stood several inches shorter than he, she faced him as if she were staring him level in the eye. Impudent ant.
"That's my Uncle Loki."
She snorted and quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously? Well, you're going to be trouble."
You have no idea.
"Kayden, can you show Loki how everything works? Basically, assume he knows nothing." Book ignored the look Loki gave him.
"He's your uncle."
Book quirked a grin. "Yeah, and you work here. Besides I've got stuff to do," he shifted the book in his arms, "and apparently I'm reading Dostoyevsky." He scampered towards the stairs before calling over his shoulder, "Oh, and he's a mute!"
Kayden made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. "Whoop-de-freaking-do. You can use a computer, right?"
Loki shrugged.
"Perfect." Kayden shook her head and shouldered past. "Come on Special Needs, let's get cracking."
The human method of finding information was obviously clumsy, but Loki grasped the concept rather quickly as the surly librarian walked him through the use of the computer and introduced him to the card catalogue system. It was logical enough he supposed and would allow him to find what he wanted in lieu of a query spell or helpful wisp. A cold sense of longing twisted briefly through his chest as his thoughts flashed to Asgard's golden achieves, the beams of sunlight striking through the shelves like sunrise in a misty forest.
Fingers snapped in front of his face. "Needs, stick with me. Or are you slow too?"
Loki leveled a glare at her that should have sent the mortal scurrying away.
She merely snorted. "Oh, honey, you'll have to do better than that." She thudded off toward a shelf, flicking her wrist for Loki to follow. Running her hands along the spines of the books, she stopped and plucked a volume off the shelf. "Here, PT7313.E5 B96 2005—see how that works now?"
Nodding impatiently, Loki leaned against the shelf.
"Don't get smart with me," she said, replacing the book. Suddenly rounding on him, she stood as tall as she could and pressed into his personal space, fixing him with a hard stare from behind her thick rims. "You don't do what I just did. Never put a book back on the shelf yourself. You hear me? If it comes off the shelf, it goes on that cart over there." She gestured at a listing metal cart, whose rusty wheels promised to scream the instant anyone tried to move it. "And do you know why? Because if books are just thrown on the shelves, do you know what we'll have? Anarchy! Pure and utter chaos!"
He had to agree. The system only worked if order was maintained. And much as Loki itched to snatch books from the shelves and secret them in amongst other stacks, he himself did not want to suffer from being unable to find what he wanted. The library was the one place where he valued the order of things.
"You got all that?" she asked. "Good. Then in that case you're on your own." With that she thumped away, leaving Loki to stare after her. She reminded him at bit of Eir, Asgard's chief healer. He always felt a bit like he'd become an annoyance to a particularly efficient landslide after he'd talked to her too.
He turned back to the heavy shelves. For a moment he stood still and just took in all the books. Where to begin? The sciences? Politics? History? He knew more of Midgard than most Asgardians cared to, but his knowledge was hardly current and held gaping holes. Such as the nature of a hamburger.
In the end he decided on a selection, pulling an introductory text on the history of technological advancements, two volumes of world history, and a collection of biographies of famous men. It didn't take him long to ferret out a secluded nook to dig himself in. Every library had one such place—out of the way, little trafficked, and virtually unknown to the common patron, and yet it would always have the most comfortable seat. This time he tucked himself into a spot beneath a staircase, partially concealed by a bookcase. In a matter of moments, Loki had drug a chair and small side table into his spot and arrayed the books around him. Dropping into the seat, his long frame draped over the edge as he snatched a text from his pile and began to read.
After a while his attention began to wander from the supposed accomplishments of a Ghengis Khan. For the first time since being cast upon this backwater excuse for a realm, he felt almost at ease. But the comfort was laced with a melancholy thread that he refused to call homesickness. What home did he have? Asgard? A lie. Jotunheim—he laughed. What was left of it would never be home. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny the slightly bitter yearning the library brought to him. He shook himself. While so much of it reminded him of his youth, Loki could not forget that this wasn't Asgard. There was no sense of age, and the gravity of hundreds of thousands of years of knowledge weighing down every breath that he took. But most of all it was the lack of chiming wisps, ringing like tiny crystal bells through the rows. Loki had only been a child, just having learned how to read, when the wisps came. Native to the deep forests of Alfheim, the small creatures nested in the trees and merried themselves by leading travelers astray; though, they were just as likely to lead them to some secret sight or beauty. An entire colony arrived in a shipment of silken tapestry tales from the elves. The unusually cold winter must have driven the small creatures to hibernate in the warmth of the packing vessels and then be unknowingly transported to Asgard.
Olir, the head archivist, had never been more surprised than when he opened the cask and a swarm of brightly gleaming, multi-colored motes of chittering light erupted from the silks. Lacking trees to build their nests, the creatures had made a pest of themselves by nesting within the pages of ancient scrolls and spell tomes. After a rather fearsome war waged between archival assistants and perturbed scholars on one front and the mischievous wisps on the other, Olir arranged a compromise, giving the wisps an abandoned nook stocked with outdated and worn out material for their nurseries.
Before long the Aesir discovered that wisps could do more than lead astray. They could also locate anything within their territory—if in the proper mood and asked politely. And so the wisps took over the job of archaic and cumbersome query spells, able to find anything within the library, whether it was in its proper place or not. As a boy Loki had been enchanted by the dancing lights, which cooed and trilled and hummed in their musical voices. They too had taken a liking to him and his eclectic reading habits. At that age Loki reveled in the freedom books brought and the even greater freedom they offered. It was also something he was so much better at than Thor, or anyone else their age.
Sometimes he would find himself bent over a table, reading his latest find, with a cloud of tiny wisps perched on his head and shoulders, absorbing every word as he flipped the pages. Other times he would burst into the library and give a whistle that brought a swarm flitting about him, chiming in excitement and tugging at his sleeve and tunic, leading him on a merry chase into the depths of the archives. These excursions always ended in a book he'd never have known to ask for or a hidden away spot. His favorite of these places was a broad ledge nestled under one of the crystal windows along the third story. It could only be accessed by squeezing behind a bookcase and then using the shelves and stones jutting from the wall to pull yourself up onto the sun-soaked expanse. Loki had loved the vantage it gave him, both across the archive and out into the sweeping plains and bay around the palace.
The wisps were also the first to teach him of death. He'd encouraged one of the little creatures to come back into his chambers, happily settling it in an old copy of his magic primer. For a time the little singing light had sported around the chamber and Loki had enjoyed its company. But before long the light began to fade and by the next day it dropped falteringly out of the air. Before his eyes the glow had sputtered and faded away, leaving only the skeletal, leaf-like remains crumpled on his desk. Gently as he could, he had cradled it in his palm and run for Frigga, begging her to fix it.
He remembered the pooling of her gowns as she knelt before him, taking the sad excuse for a corpse from his hands. It had been a hard blow to know that there was something beyond her power to fix. She had gently explained that the wisp couldn't be helped. That it was gone, never to return. Loki couldn't have known that wisps were communal to the extent that they could not live apart from one another for very long. It had been an accident. Never-the-less it had driven home the lesson that some actions cannot be undone, no matter how much you may wish to.
Loki's lip curled in a sneer. Sentiment. He shrugged off the memory and returned to the stack of books. He read quickly, eyes flicking across the page, long fingers hovering over the lines and darting out to flip the page. When the library finally closed for the day he'd made it through six volumes.
"Well don't you seem chipper," said Book, giving Loki a sidelong look. "Find anything good?"
It was agreeable enough. He doubted his meaning came across as Book squinted more intently at him. The squint turned into a secret smile that did not bode well for Loki.
"Well, I had a great time." He patted his suspiciously bulging knapsack. "Quite a good time indeed."
Loki didn't have to wait long for Book's secrets to reveal themselves. Nearly as soon they returned to the warehouse and stirred up the fire, Book was digging in his satchel. He slid out four books of varying sizes, most with rather garish covers.
"I've got a solution to your problem," he said as he hefted a volume onto his lap. "No more endless games of twenty questions and charades. We're going to get you talking again—figuratively." He flipped open the book and tapped the pages. Countless drawings of hands in different poses dotted the paper.
I fail to see the use.
"It's sign language! See, you can learn to talk with your hands. It's so much faster than writing things down." He held up one hand and proceeded to twist it into separate shapes. "See, that's my name spelled out, 'Book'." He frowned. "No wait…that's 'kook'."
It seemed rather cumbersome. Certainly no better than writing out questions, except for the lack of paper. Loki mimed writing on a page.
"That's just the alphabet, that's not the best part. See, you've got signs for all sorts of words so you don't have to spell them all out." He peeled back the corners of the pages, thumbing through until he found what he was looking for. He pointed at a diagram. "See, this is the sign for 'past'."
Book sucked on the corner of his mouth in concentration as he held up his right hand in front of his shoulder, the back of his hand facing out. He then flopped the wrist forward, almost like tossing a ball over his shoulder. He grinned. "Think about what we could do with this! We could actually talk about things that you can't just point at or act out."
The incredulity must have shown on his face a bit more than he had intended because Book rolled his eyes and shoved another volume into his hands.
"Humor me."
Why?
"Because I'm adorable." With that Book turned back to the pages in his lap, occasionally moving through some strange motions as he tried to replicate the images. Somehow Loki imagined that sucking on the corner of his lip wasn't part of the diagrams.
Loki turned his attention to the matter in his hands, idly flipping through the pages of drawings and explanations. It was certainly an intriguing idea. Not that they didn't have a simplified concept on Asgard, though it was of course for military operations and unlikely to need words like "fondue." He paused. What in the Nine is fondue? It sounded vulgar.
The capacity to talk with his hands would have been helpful at one point. His fingers strayed to his scarred lips, ghosting over the whorls of knotted flesh and dipping down into ragged divots. He pulled his hand away as he felt eyes on him. It was strange that this was the one question the boy had never asked. Though, he could see the yearning in him sometimes.
It would be well for him never to give in to that yearning.
Notes: Filling in the chinks of Asgardian culture and history is so much fun. I know a lot of individuals prefer to make them much more like space Vikings, but I have more fun taking some inspiration from Norse culture and myth, and weaving in bits of other folklore and just throwing in my own ideas whole cloth. What we see of Asgard and Asgardian culture in the movies is actually pretty cool. I wish that we'd gotten more of a chance to delve into it the way we did with Wakandan culture.
Also, Kayden is an absolute joy to write. Originally she was named "Kat" until I realized that I had too many OCs with weird animal or object "names." She's actually based physically (and to a certain extent personality-wise) on one of my best friends…my friend isn't quit so abrasive or non-pc, though she doesn't suffer fools gladly…
Guest: Well yours is one more review added to the pile :). I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
Guest: Thank you so much. I'm glad you're able to appreciate the character work that went into this story since that was one of my main goals while writing. As to whether Loki comes to care about Book...you'll have to wait and see...but unfortunately Loki does have a horrible penchant for self-destructive choices. What was it Frigga said? Something about seeing everyone else so clearly, but not himself.
xXCinderzXx: You're too kind! And yes, I've striven to keep everyone as in character as possible. Which is sometimes difficult because I have ideas (fun, cute, good ideas) and then when I try and imagine the characters actually doing them...it just isn't right and so I have to cut them out. Basically if I can't more or less imagine Tom Hiddleston acting out a scene I've written on the big screen (within the broader genre I've given myself), I ax the idea.
Silver Frost: Sharp eyes with the FMA reference! It's actually a twofer since it doubles as a historical reference to Paracelsus (which makes my little history major heart glad). And don't worry about just jumping in before you've finished reading, I'll accept a review at any point :). Just shows you're excited, which in turn excites me.