Trials

Chapter Three: All for Show

Loki kicked, pulled, pushed, lifted, punched, resisted, swung his way through the strength demonstration. He was beginning to feel it, particularly in his arms – no matter how hard he trained, his upper body strength was never quite what he wished it was. But feeling it was good, it meant his body was working hard, and his body was supposed to be working hard. Besides, he was almost done, well into the final part of this segment, for which he'd designed the tests himself to better demonstrate his own strengths, and frankly, to entertain the audience. And now that the audience was much larger than he'd anticipated, he was grateful for the time and creativity he'd put into it.

For his next-to-last demonstration, he went over to the wagon that had been brought onto the field during the last break, pulled each of its four wheels from the axle, snapped off all the spokes, then swung two over his right shoulder and two over his left, holding his posture rigidly straight to keep them in place there. He carried them over to a pre-determined spot, where he set the heavy wheels down in front of him. Then, one by one, he lifted them again, hurling them across the field to land so that they caught just so around a man-sized post, where they rotated in a mad spiral down to the ground. The crowd erupted in applause, and Loki turned to them, unable to hold back his grin. He'd been perfecting this for nearly half a year, and the audience's approval gave him a gratifying rush.

His eyes sought out Thor, and found him screaming from his seat; Mother's head was thrown back in laughter as she clapped. But this time Loki barely noticed them, for between them at last sat Father, clapping and smiling. Loki beamed.

He forced his gaze away a moment later, for he wasn't finished yet. The wheel stunt was almost comical, if anyone paused to think too much about it – he hoped they didn't – because really, he doubted he'd ever need to subdue an enemy by hurling a wagon wheel at him, much less by hurling it such that it encircled the enemy's body. The whole stunt was actually far less about strength than about accuracy in aim and in the precise application of strength, but that worked in Loki's favor, because raw physical strength was not his strength. Loki knew he couldn't compete with Thor in that regard, so his goal was to distinguish himself by incorporating physical strength into areas where his own talents lay.

Besides, he had to be careful how much strength he exerted now. He had to save some of it for this last feat.

Two of his old trainers – his favorite, Ossur, and Elaugur – carried a log onto the field, and, with audible grunts, set it down in front of him. Two trainers were not strictly speaking necessary, not when they were as strong as Ossur and Elaugur; though the log was thick and very heavy, this part was just for show. Loki stretched, rolled his neck around, bounced lightly a few times to bend and straighten his knees. After a final flexing of his fingers, he bent at the knee and worked his arms around the log. He grunted and groaned, dug his heels in, gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow, but the log never made it more than an inch or perhaps two off the ground. The audience cheered its encouragement to the young prince, so he straightened for just a moment, nodded, and went at it again. The log went no higher than before, and Loki let it drop back to the ground and stood up, panting.

The crowd's encouraging applause and shouts quickly faded. Loki bowed his head in shame, and the crowd grew even quieter. Now only a few individual shouts of encouragement – "You can do it!" "Try again!" "Don't give up now!" – reached his ears, along with a few whistles and claps. Then one voice boomed out clearly over the rest.

"I'll help you, Brother!"

Loki braved a glance up in Thor's direction, in time to see Father losing an awkward grip on Thor's arm, as his brother rose and turned toward the stairs. Odin looked aghast, his own eyes cast downward, and Loki felt a sharp flare of pain over it. Mother was staring at him slack-jawed, though when he caught her eye she tried to force a smile, and Baldur had a good portion of his fist in his mouth. With Thor's words, the crowd had gone deathly silent; "help" was not under any circumstances allowed at the Trials. Getting through them on your own was the whole point. Loki hurriedly looked back down at the log and bent to make another attempt before Thor could reach him. He fared a little better, the log rising a little higher, but he'd not managed to get it as high as his knees when he dropped it again.

He kept his head down and soon Thor was beside him, even nudging him out of the way. "I've got this, Loki," he said, the field's sound projection making the words easily audible to the assembled spectators.

Loki watched in silence as Thor bent at the knees just as he had, got his arms into position, and with a bit of a grunt of his own, lifted it, straightening his knees as he went, until he was completely upright, the log at shoulder height. His brother angled his neck around to him, flashed a brilliant grin, and raised his eyebrows. He was probably the only one in the entire arena with a smile on his face.

Until Loki joined him. "Thank you, Brother," he said, patting Thor on the shoulder. Then he went behind Thor, got into a squatting position, ducked underneath him, wrapped his hands around Thor's knees and pressed them in toward his chest to help keep his brother balanced. Next, careful to keep his back straight, he began pressing upward. The move was a practiced one by now, but still, it felt like he was lifting an entire building on his shoulders, and his legs strained and burned in protest. Much more weight and his knees might have buckled, but he rose steadily and before long was fully upright, Thor on his shoulders holding the log. He gave Thor's right knee a squeeze, and in response Thor lifted the log up above his head. Thor had insisted on that part, actually, but Loki didn't mind letting him have an extra moment of glory.

The crowd was clearly stunned, and the applause returned slowly at first, but before long the arena was as loud as it had ever been today, and maybe, Loki thought, even as loud as it had ever been for Thor's Trials. And really, this had just been intended as a bit of fun for his family, but the performance had clearly enraptured the whole audience. Loki basked in it as he never thought he would. Thor loved being at the center of such spectacle, and Loki finally understood why, in that moment of triumph that everyone – even his own parents – had thought a failure.

The cheering went on and on – Mother was on her feet, Baldur was jumping up and down on his seat, and even Father was coming to his feet. Loki felt like he could have stood there grinning back up at everyone forever, but a minute press of both of Thor's heels into his chest reminded him that Thor was the one holding the log up over his head, and strong as his older brother was, even he couldn't keep that up forever. Loki gave his left knee a squeeze to let him know he was ready, and Thor dropped the log to the ground in front of them. Loki squatted down, Thor hopped off, and that was the end of the strength trial. He gave another over-the-top pledge and was declared to have passed. Before he could even get turned all the way back around to Thor, his brother was nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"That was brilliant, Loki, just brilliant. You were amazing."

"You were fairly amazing yourself, Brother," Loki said with a laugh, hugging Thor back just as hard.

"We'll practice that some more tonight with the ladies when we celebrate. They'll love it."

"Ladies love being lifted up like logs above men's heads?" Loki asked, giving Thor a skeptical look.

Thor threw his head back and laughed. "That too, yes, we should try it! But I meant carrying them on our shoulders. It'll make a great game."

The brothers soon parted ways. Loki had an hour's break this time, and he took a canister of water with him up into the stands, hoping to greet a few others this time before working his way over to his family. He spotted his old friend Muli, whose Trials would take place in three months. They shared a few laughs and Loki couldn't deny how great it felt to hear how amazed Muli had been, how he was going to have to put more thought into what he planned for his own Trials after seeing how creative Loki had been. He spoke to a few others, searching harder and harder for Jolgeir as he went.

"Prince Loki!"

Loki's head whipped around and his grin grew wider – it was Jolgeir, sitting five rows higher and to the right from where he was now. He excused himself from one of his old cosmology tutors and hurried over to Jolgeir.

"Well done, my prince," Jolgeir said, inclining his head deeply.

"Thank you, Jolgeir. I hardly recognized you, you know. I think I'd forgotten that you have things to wear other than your official armor." He wore a dark green tunic liberally covered in crisscrossing brown leather – and he was far from the only person in green here today.

"Not many, but yes," he said with a smile. "So does Thidrek."

"Thidrek!" Loki said, eyes jumping to the man sitting on Jolgeir's other side. He hadn't known Thidrek was coming, too, hadn't even noticed him sitting right there, dressed as anyone else, with a green-trimmed vest. "Thank you for coming."

"How could I miss it?" Thidrek asked. "It's an important day, my prince. You're putting me out of job."

Loki laughed. "You have a few more days to find a new one. Will you be looking after Baldur, like Jolgeir?"

"Hergils hasn't decided. But no matter, the palace always needs its Einherjar."

"We're all here, Loki," Jolgeir said. "All of us who've watched over you over the years. Either in the stands or on duty. Can you spot them?"

Loki instantly started looking around, and soon found five Einherjar on duty in addition to the four sitting around his family. It turned out there was a sixth, standing in the shadow of a statue in the corner of the stands and blending into it so well Loki missed him. He was a little disappointed, but Jolgeir and Thidrek seemed pleased that he'd found five. The Einherjar had trained long and hard to earn their positions; none of them were fresh from their Trials.

When he finally approached his family's seats, only his father was there, which made him a little nervous. Thor he found easily, a few rows away laughing with some of the boys – men, he supposed he should think of it now – that his brother went out to the taverns with. Suddenly Thor grabbed one of them and flipped him horizontal and lifted him up like the log, but unlike the log this was a person and not quite so easily and steadily grasped; he started to tumble down and the others grabbed his dangling limbs and pushed him back up. Loki shook his head. He supposed this was what his entire night would look like. He smiled anyway. Thor would be Thor, but this would be his night, and he would have fun regardless, maybe even give in and have a drink or two with the others. Maybe even grab Thor and lift him up like that.

"Father," Loki said with a formal nod when he reached him.

Odin stood and placed his hands on Loki's shoulders. He was dressed formally, in polished gold armor and flowing red cape. Gungnir, though, was nowhere in sight. "You're doing well, Loki."

"Thank you," he replied, wishing he could throw his arms around Father as he did Thor and Baldur and Mother, but it seemed there was always something awkward between them, something that only rarely permitted such displays of affection, and less and less as he'd grown older. "Mother told me you had other business. I'm glad you could be here."

"I came as quickly as I could. And Baldur filled me in on everything I'd missed. You've really impressed him. He says you're the fastest and strongest warrior Asgard has ever seen," Father said, patting his right shoulder and letting him go.

"He's easy to impress," Loki said with a crooked grin. "Where is he, and Mother?"

"She took him to the bathroom. They'll be back soon."

Loki nodded and smiled awkwardly.

"Are you prepared for the battle trial?"

"I am," he said, his smile growing more natural.

"I was concerned for a few seconds there," Odin said, his piercing gaze falling hard on Loki.

"Sorry, Father," he said sheepishly.

"Don't be. It was very clever. And brothers supporting each other…that is as it should be."

Loki nodded, smile growing again. His cheek muscles were actually starting to ache from so many big smiles. His break time was running low again, so he excused himself with a bow because they were in public, and at his father's nod he hurried back down toward the grounds.

/

/

Loki took his position back on the field. This was it. Three down, one to go. He was facing Tyr now. Tyr was a hero of the Vanir-Aesir war and the more recent Ice War. Now he was Odin's second-in-command over Asgard's warriors, as well as the chief trainer for boys from around eighteen years of age to twenty. An exceptional few he took under his wing for further formal training. Thor trained with him four days a week now. Loki knew he was no Thor when it came to fighting, but with a good showing here today, he hoped to join his brother in continuing his training with Tyr.

He gripped his sword – too tightly, he realized, and relaxed his grip a bit – and waited for the signal to start. He was not required to use a sword; he had the option to request a different weapon if he so chose. He'd inquired about throwing axes, though, just for something different, and been turned down, so the sword it was. These were slightly blunted – a fully grown adult would receive no worse than a shallow cut, a child could be killed – so Loki still stood some risk of injury. But while Loki might on rare occasion make a mistake and fail to pull his blows or to properly control his weapon's movements against a sparring partner, Tyr controlled his sword like an extension of his own body. The actual risk of injury was extremely low.

Thor had used a sword. Or to be more accurate, Thor had used two swords. Loki had practiced with him while he was preparing for his Trials, and knew he couldn't manage two swords well enough to do the same. He wouldn't have wanted to anyway – wielding two swords was a means of showcasing Thor's particular skills. Loki had to do something different. But it would have been nice to be able to replicate what Thor had done.

Sorkvir approached and made sure both Loki and Tyr were in their proper starting positions. "Show me what you've learned, Loki," Tyr said, a glint in his eye that was the closest he came to smiling when he held a weapon in his hand.

Loki nodded and fought his own smile in response – at least one corner of his mouth failed to obey.

Sorkvir stepped on a platform a few feet away, from which he would closely observe the battle. "You may begin," he said, the field's sound amplification system now active again and projecting his voice up into the stands.

Loki went into motion immediately. He was light on his feet, quick, agile, with a good eye for detail, and as a result highly responsive to anything his opponents did to signal their next move – eyes suggesting directional intent, feet warning of repositioning, hands and sword hinting of strategy, other small movements implying imminent attack. This would be one of his strengths. He wanted the ability to move, and not just around flat open ground, so during the last break, a series of structures he'd designed and built himself with Thor's help – ramps and walls and stairs – had been positioned on the field to his specifications. Today Tyr was seeing them for the first time, and even Thor did not know precisely how he planned to use any of them. He couldn't give the best show if he revealed all his secrets.

That Tyr had not known about these additions to the field wouldn't matter, in a real battle. Tyr was the realm's greatest warrior next to Odin himself, and while Loki would continue to train and improve, for now and the foreseeable future, Tyr could still beat him easily if that were his real goal.

That was not his goal. His goal was to push Loki hard for one hour – far longer than any real one-on-one sword battle would typically last, even among the hardy, dense-bodied Aesir – after which point he would offer a truce and declare Loki had passed, assuming Loki was indeed able to demonstrate what he'd learned. Youths were not permitted to win on the training field or in this trial out of good graces or politeness or some such foolish thing – victories among the Aesir must be earned. Deserved. To be granted a truce was a sufficient sign of respect for the losing party.

Tyr made the first strike, but it was a probing thrust, more like swatting at a fly than trying to strike down an enemy. Full of adrenaline and excitement, Loki overbalanced on his parry and Tyr shifted back and swung his blade around and sliced right through Loki's tunic and shallowly into his upper arm. Stunned, he blinked rapidly and looked up at Tyr, who was giving him a look he knew well, one that said settle down. Loki exhaled, relaxed back into his close guard stance, and gave a single nod.

Things went better from there on out. Tyr continued to get the occasional small hit on him, just enough for him to feel the surprise of it and make him angry at himself for the slip-up, but he took each stinging cut as motivation to do better. While every boy may dream of getting through the battle trial without a single nick from Tyr, no one had done it yet, not even Thor.

Every boy also dreamed of getting a hit on Tyr, and this had happened, though it was rare. Thor had gotten two on him, which was entirely unheard of. Though Loki had never said as much to Thor or anyone else, he wanted more. It began with the ropes he'd installed underneath the platform in the middle of the field, from which Sorkvir stood watch over the battle. The platform itself was not out of bounds, so when the opportunity arose, Loki maneuvered the fight up onto it. He took up a defensive position, and when Tyr next brought his sword around in a cut, Loki dropped over the edge of it to the ground. Tyr followed him, but by that time Loki had pulled down one of the ropes tucked under a horizontal wooden support beam of the platform, and at the first glimpse of Tyr's boots coming down Loki pushed off a pole, swung around, and came at Tyr from the side, getting in a quick hit on his shoulder before Tyr spun around and knocked him off the rope and onto his back.

Now sprawled on the grass on his rear end, Loki had no time to dwell on his achievement. Tyr was coming at him again; Loki looked left and rolled right and narrowly avoided an answering hit. From his roll he transitioned smoothly to sitting and then to standing, and though he was out of breath now, he was again steady and calm and the battle continued.

He tried to draw Tyr into a few other surprises, but Tyr didn't fall for them. Loki again had no time to dwell on it, and as the minutes passed by it became more and more difficult to try to take any action that was proactive rather than merely reactive.

Loki glanced at the glowing orange numbers on the platform's edge: one minute, four seconds. It was time. It wasn't going to be easy. He'd attempted this after an hour of mock fighting, by himself, but never after an hour of such intensity, not after an hour of fighting Tyr, who had indeed pushed him hard, even harder than he'd expected. He had, thankfully, practiced doing it with divided concentration, and that was what saved him here. His left hand released the sword. With both eyes still on Tyr and letting tension in his body and other minor muscle movements suggest an impending strike, Loki began focusing on the energy in the particles around him, concentrating them together, manipulating their shape and composition and resonance until they were only the tiniest bit off from where he needed them. He clutched at them with his free left hand – Tyr narrowed his eyes, no doubt suspicious Loki was planning something, and took advantage of what he must have realized was a slight distraction on Loki's part to thrust the tip of his blade in toward Loki's left shoulder. Loki made a quick fade, leaping back about half a foot; he thought Tyr's sword might have made a small cut on the leather he wore over his tunic, but it didn't reach his skin. He followed it off with a fairly cautious advance and thrust; Tyr backed off but then came at him again, not giving him anything for free even in these final seconds. Loki began another parry, but at the same time he gave the particles a final twist, closed his eyes tightly, and released them.

Even behind his eyelids he could see the explosion of light. The instant the particles had dissipated, Loki went on the attack against a temporarily blinded Tyr. He forced Tyr's sword away from his center and struck him hard in the ribs with his elbow. Blinking heavily, Tyr started pulling his sword across and in against his own chest, out of a classic inside defensive position to one that was decidedly less classic, from the horizontal to the vertical, tip pointed up, but before he could get there Loki had swung back around and the tip of his sword was pressed against Tyr's chest. In a real battle, Loki would have just run him through.

Panting heavily, Loki held his position, waiting for the announcement, his grin threatening to split his face in two. He'd beaten Tyr. Not just survived him, not just put a hit on him, beaten him. It had never happened in the history of the Trials.

Tyr was looking down at him, maybe with a bit of anger, Loki wasn't sure. He became aware of the crowd behind him, and the smattering of applause – most people were probably still too stunned by his victory to react. He started to turn toward them.

"Fail."

Loki stopped turning, the crowd now to his left, Sorkvir in front of him, and Tyr, who'd spoken, to his right. Loki looked up at Sorkvir, then over to Tyr, whose head was angled down; his words had not been carried to the stands. "What?" He had to have misheard.

"You have failed, Loki."

Shocked and still breathing heavily from the fight, Loki turned back to fully face Tyr. "What do you mean? I did everything I should have. You didn't get so many hits on me. I-"

"You broke the rules."

"I didn't break any rules," Loki said, his voice beginning to rise.

"Do you deny that you caused a light to blind me?"

Loki's jaw dropped open for a moment. This can't be happening. "No," he finally said.

"This is a violation of the rules. Therefore you have failed."

Loki watched as Tyr looked up and over to Sorkvir and gave a slight shake of his head. Loki followed his gaze, eyes growing round in horror, head shaking as he silently begged Sorkvir not to say what Tyr was telling him to.

Sorkvir looked from Tyr, to Loki, to the ground before him, then lifted his head. "Prince Loki Odinson," he began, his shoulders a bit hunched, his voice projecting into the stands, "you have failed the battle trial."

Loki felt his face going painfully taut. The arena was completely silent. His own breathing, hitching harshly and unnaturally loudly in his chest, was the only sound.

"Therefore, I regret that I must announce…that you have failed your Trials."

/

The End.

Ha. No. I wouldn't do that to you.

Special thanks on this chapter to "CreativeReading" and "names are hard guys" who were generous and helpful in tossing around ideas with me about how this match would go, specifically the end of it!

Alternate title for this chapter: "The One in Which Loki Finds Out He's in a Fanfic." Ha. Poor guy. You only hurt the ones you love, Loki, really, believe me.