Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 7: Imperfect Harmonies

A/N: Happy hunting!

The following morning, Thor found himself awakened by shouting.

"What do you mean you didn't tie them up?! What is the matter with you?! It was your job!"

He groaned, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yanked on his boots, now caked with dried mud from the previous night. A yawn escaped him, and Thor pushed himself through the tent flap, found himself staring at his friends crowded around the burned out fire, all in obviously foul moods. Fandral had a bright red mark on the side of his face, an indication of the fact that Sif had lost her temper and slapped him for some stupid remark or another. He was shouting in her face, shaking as Volstagg pulled him back and Hogun stepped in between them.

"Enough," the Grim said without raising his tone. "It matters not now who did or didn't tie the horses up."

Sif hissed, turned away from them on her heel and set about kicking pine cones as far as she could. Some of them broke into pieces upon coming into contact with the toe of her boot. The woman crossed her arms, brushed pine needles from her hair and refused to say a word more. Volstagg forcibly removed Fandral, carried him over his shoulder to a large boulder and planted him on it with a low word of warning. The blond warrior grimaced and looked away. Hogun glanced to Thor as he approached.

"What's happened?" he said, boots coming to stick again in the wet earth. "What's this about the horses?"

The Grim's eyes seemed to fall. "Fandral forgot to tie up the horses last night, and it would seem they've run off."

Thor sighed aloud, turned about in circles with a hand pressed to his mouth. What would they do without the horses? How would they hunt? What with being this high up in the mountains, this far from the royal city, it would take them at least three days to return home. Perhaps more were they to head back carrying a prize. The prince said nothing to his friends, refused to spare Fandral even a passing glance as he growled loudly, raised a foot and planted it against the side of his tent.

"Ow!"

He stood straight then, fingers laced and looking sheepish as the tent flipped over, and Thor suddenly remembered that his brother had still been sleeping inside, and that he had likely just kicked Loki in the gut. The fabric flopped about, yanking the posts from the wet ground as it wrapped tightly around him. Thor could hear Sif snickering behind him as Loki swore violently, the shapes of his hands appearing through the sides of the tent as he struggled to get free.

The thunderer's first instinct was to take hold of the tent, pull it apart with his hands and leave it be. But he knew that, were he to so much as make a hole in the thing, Loki would have his head and would refuse to repair it for him. And, seeing how it was Thor's tent, that would leave him without a proper place to sleep for the rest of their trip.

As soon as the tent rolled towards him, Thor knelt down and unwound the cords that had become tangled together, biting his lip and urging himself not to comment about the fact that Loki would not have had a very enjoyable life as a caterpillar. The strings fell away, and Thor pushed his brother along the ground, eventually reaching inside the tent flap and tugging him out by the wrist. The others smiled at the sight, the young prince with tired eyes and disheveled hair, but Loki looked positively outraged.

With his free hand, he slapped Thor's away, hobbled to his feet and brushed the dirt and grime from his clothes as he doubled over, scowling and remarking that kicking a man in the chest was not the appropriate way to wake him. Thor offered an apologetic smile and knelt beside him as Loki sat down.

"Are you all right?"

Beneath his damp and matted hair, Loki glowered up at him, smacked Thor full in the face, and hissed, "What would make you think that I'm all right?!"

The elder prince said nothing and rested his hand on Loki's shoulder. His brother looked as though he were about to vomit.

They had stayed awake far into the night, until the early hours of the dawn, talking about many things of consequence and others that meant nothing, having climbed up one of the pine trees to seek shelter from the rain and stare out across their world. It would be a great undertaking, the brothers had agreed, to rule the whole of Asgard. It was a massive and beautiful place, moreso than any realm they had yet had chance to visit. And it had dawned upon the both of them that, in comparison to the mass of land and sky and life, even a king, powerful as he may have been, was very easily dwarfed by the sheer intensity of it all. He couldn't speak for his brother, but it had made Thor very uneasy in regards to who their father would choose to succeed to the throne.

Sitting on his haunches, Thor felt himself topple back and into the mud as Loki pushed him.

"Now," he wheezed, "what are you all shouting about?"

That lit the fire all over again.

"It's Fandral!" Sif said, pointing accusingly at the warrior. "He failed to remember to tie the horses up last night, and they've since run away! Now we are stranded here!" The anger in her eyes seemed to fade for a moment as she looked hopefully at Loki. "Unless you can find means with which to conjure something up for us."

Thor hadn't thought of that, but knew better than to get his hopes up.

"I'd rather have our horses back," he replied, completely dodging her suggestion. He straightened up. "Now, were you too tired to remember, Fandral? Or did you waste away the night examining the whole of yourself in that pretty little mirror?"

Fandral's nostrils flared, and he shot forward off the rock, only to be shoved back by Volstagg who was about as solid as a brick wall.

"What are you implying?!" the warrior shot back, struggling against the Valiant's grip. An embarrassed blush crept up onto his cheeks.

Loki rolled his neck on his shoulders and shrugged. "I suppose I'd best spell it out for all of you." A pause, and Fandral's red shade seemed to grow even darker. "There have been some rumors flitting about among the female servants that dear Fandral, before embarking upon his famed escapades, likes to model and examine himself in the mirror."

If Thor had held anything in his mouth when the words had slipped past Loki's lips, he would have dropped on all fours and coughed it up.

His grip on the shaking blond vanished immediately, and Volstagg fell onto his backside with deafening laughter, caking the seat of his pants in mud. The warrior growled, launched himself off the rock and stalked towards Loki, hands balled tightly into fists as he began to threaten, describe just how he'd get back at the prince for this horrendous humiliation. But, as the words left his mouth, Fandral's expression brightened immensely, that devious smile of his own coming to join the game. He laughed.

Loki wore a perplexed look.

"Oh, I know just how to deal with that," said the philanderer, walking slowly about the remains of the fire. He beamed, as though the sun had cut through the clouds, and stared happily at the trickster. "Have you heard that story about Sleipnir?"

Thor made a face, had no idea what Fandral was talking about, and turned to stare at his brother. Loki was biting his lip so hard, the flesh could have come off in his mouth.

"Don't."

The Valiant had ceased his laughter, seated himself upon one of the logs surrounding the fire pit, and stared eagerly at Fandral. Hogun, who usually looked nonplussed, had a glint of surprise and confusion brimming in his dark eyes. And, as he turned to watch Sif, Thor noted that she was fighting back a very amused smile, and he had no idea as to why.

A pine cone was plucked from the ground, tossed about in Fandral's gloved hands before he began breaking off tiny pieces, throwing them at Loki though they were sure not to reach.

"There's a story, throughout the whole of Asgard," he said, and Thor knew that, whatever this was about, that last bit would be eating his brother's lunch in a moment, "about the trickster prince. That, through his craft, he changed his appearance to that of a mare, and–"

There came a heavy thud as Loki threw a rock at the man, striking him full in the chest before charging at him and setting his hands about Fandral's throat. Thor, for a moment, thought himself to be dreaming.

"Bastard!" Loki growled, shoving the warrior further into the wet dirt as he struggled for breath. "You know as well as any that that's a damned lie!"

Thor joined the others in tugging the two of them apart, holding Loki in his arms and dragging him away from the target of his fury. His brother struggled, cursing and swearing that Fandral would pay for speaking of such a thing, filthy lie that it was. Thor himself had never heard this rumor, though his knowledge as to his brother's true potential with magic was somewhat limited, and had not once seen Loki change shape. Only disappear.

Turning to his friends, their eyes were all wide, and Fandral looked about ready to urinate on himself.

He said nothing, continued to fight with Loki until deciding that it would just be better to throw the trickster over his shoulder and remove him from the camp. He did so, flinching as he tried to ignore his brother's shouts in his ear.

Thor did not stop until they had slid down two small hills to the east and reached the mouth of an empty cave. A distance which, given how much energy Loki had just wasted in his anger, his brother would not be able to traverse alone.

It was with a huff that Thor finally dropped him on the ground, watched the other scowl up at him with an accusing glare.

"Why do you always interfere?!" Loki snapped.

"Because you're being foolish," Thor replied, knowing well that he must have sounded like a godawful hypocrite. He'd been foolish more times than he had dared to count, and possessed the sinking feeling in his gut that his brother was like to bring that all about. "Now, what rumor do the fools of Asgard spread about my brother?"

Dirt flew into the mouth of the cave as Loki gave the ground a solid kick, turning himself in crazed circles before he sat down, knotted fingers into his dark hair.

"You don't know how I made that horse, do you?"

Thor said nothing.

"There was a star," his brother whispered, having calmed down considerably. "It fell, the way the stories say, but right into the sea. By all the laws, it should have died out in space, burst and spent years finally fading away. But it came to me, on the shore, settled down in the sand and blinked until it was just a white stone..."

His nose wrinkled, not understanding a word of the tale at all. Stars had been known to fall, Thor knew, though they certainly did not make a beeline for the sea. Nor were they known to be but the size of stones. Even so, he said nothing.

"So I took it, felt its breath slipping away as it came close to death, wrapped it in light and fire, watched it grow. And he was there, strong and bold as any god who has ever held Asgard in his hands. By my design, Sleipnir was beast fit only for use by a king." He looked to Thor. "Our king."

The prince smiled, sat down and stared towards the north, eyes shifting through the fog in hopes that the palace could be seen. Sadly, it was nowhere to be found among the tones of gray.

"Would you believe," Loki laughed, "that, when I brought the horse to him, that was the first time, I think, Father actually looked at me?"

Thor held his tongue, refused to let his temper get the better of him as well. It was certain that, now, they could not run away, find a place among the stars. They would return to Asgard's royal city in a few days time, and stand before their father, prove that they were men rather than boys. And Thor, though it was certainly not his place, would insist that the Allfather acknowledge his dear brother for all that he was.

His mouth opened to speak, but Loki raised a hand to him, eyes wide and alert as he turned slowly around. Thor made move to follow, but he was stopped.

"Don't... make a sound..." Loki told him in a whisper, and Thor could feel someone, or something, watching him from behind.

Gently, his hand moved to his hip, but found that there was no blade. They had left their weapons back at camp, found themselves armed only with his fists and his brother's silver tongue.

They stood up slowly, and Thor moved quietly to his right as Loki nudged him, still insisting with his eyes that he keep quiet. Something shifted within the cave, as though daggers were being dragged across the stone floors, and snorted, leaving a wad of colored saliva sticking to the point on the ground where the brothers had sat moments before. Thor turned his head, breath catching in his throat as he saw the beast, its small eyes searching for them as its bulk moved from the mouth of the cave and touched the earth. The mud rose around the creature's foot.

Thor flinched as he stepped backwards and onto a twig, causing it to snap in half. Loki turned to look at him in time with the creature, eyes wide.

"Run!"