The Last Days of Magic and Glory Chapter #4
In this chapter, the warriors spar and share their opinions about Thor's time outside the palace.
Chapter 4: Unwanted Speculation
After returning from the hunt, Thor’s days were monotonous. He now remembered why after only one day accompanying their father to court, he and Loki had agreed that it was better for princes to attend lessons than spend all day with their father. Court was boring. The politics were occasionally interesting, when a conflict of actual significance arose. But diplomacy involved a lot of speechmaking and only interested Thor when a visiting princess or prince wanted to be shown around. The Warrior’s Council sounded as though it should be fun, but in peacetime it was mostly logistics concerning how many troops to deploy to outposts, supply chains, and training stratagems. Despite the tedium, none of it beat the soul-sucking agony that was Royal Audience. Not only did Thor have to not fall asleep, but he had to pretend to care about the petty problems of the citizenry. He once found himself lightly pounding Mjolnir on his head while two goat farmers argued about the property line between their pastures. There was no doubt in his mind that Loki would be much more suited to all of this. But clever Loki had run away, leaving it to Thor.
Thor should’ve been on the front lines. He should’ve been giving inspiring speeches and creating songs of praise for his best warriors. He should’ve been training the troops instead of discussing how they should be trained and when war came, he should be atop the throne, glorious.
The only fighting Thor ever got was when he sparred with his friends in the mornings before court. He didn’t even brawl in the dining hall anymore, at his mother’s insistence that it wasn’t “kingly.”
Thor’s only relief was at night when he strolled out to the stables. Then he and the horse would ride out past the pastures and find a place to sleep under the stars.
***
“Okay, enough,” Sif huffed one morning during sparring. Thor had just turned down Fandral’s offer for Thor to accompany them to a tavern that night. “What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” Thor panted. He could take any one of his friends, even without Mjolnir, but Sif and Hogun were double-teaming him and putting up a good fight.
“I think she means why you’d rather spend time with your horse than with us,” Fandral shouted from the other mat, earning a sharp punch to the face from Volstagg for his distraction.
Thor shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell them that the horse was his only connection to his brother, though he knew Sif suspected. “I like sleeping outside.”
“I enjoy the pleasures of the camp, myself,” Volstagg agreed. He had subdued Fandral and was sitting on top of him, waiting for Fandral to plead mercy. “But I also enjoy a rich mead and the company of my friends. Surely you need not spend every night riding.”
“I don’t spend every night riding,” Thor began to protest, trying to think to the last night he had spent in a bed. It had been a moon ago, when for Fandral’s birthday the friends had gone to a tavern and Thor had spent a pleasant evening in the embrace of the barmaid. The horse had not been pleased with him and had defecated on his shoe before making him chase her to their place of rest for the night.
Hogun took advantage of Thor’s distracted remembrance in oder to grab him by the hair and slam him into the ground. He rolled out of the way, but was stopped by Sif separating her two-bladed staff and slamming one into the ground on each side of him, effectively pinning his arms. She pressed her boot into the back of his neck and Thor ceded. He heard Sif and Hogun slapping each other in triumph.
“Is it Loki?” Sif asked as she pulled him up.
Thor knew she understood that the magical horse was a connection to his magical brother, but Thor was unprepared for her to state it so bluntly. He gaped at her.
“It’s fine to miss him,” Fandral added from where he was now dancing around Volstagg again. “I actually miss the man a little myself. It’s fun to spar with those doubles he creates and with Loki around things are never dull. But ignoring your friends to sleep in the woods each night is an extreme reaction.”
“Valhalla, Fandral, you would fit in well at the ladies sewing circle,” Sif complained. And she would know, considering how many she’d been dragged to kicking and screaming - none of which improved her sewing. “I didn’t mean to make Thor talk about his feelings. Not that I’m discouraging you from doing so,” she added to Thor. “Or encouraging you. I meant to ask whether you are sneaking off every night in order to see Loki.”
“What?” Thor asked, stunned.
“The lady does have a point,” Volstagg mused. “Loki has conveniently disappeared after doing some no doubt despicable thing to cheat a man out of his payment. But the two of you are rarely separated for long. The most reasonable explanation for you sneaking out of the palace at night is to see your brother and probably unwittingly help him in whatever mischief he is planning.”
“Even though you claim to miss him,” Fandral added. “You are happy. Happier than I have seen you since you lost the right to ever enter Sif’s bed again when you lost that blindfolded fight with her.”
Sif smirked, reminding Thor of the many reasons he was both blessed and cursed to have ended his casual relationship with her.
“Maybe I just got over it.”
Sif rolled her eyes, flipping her spear casually as she circled him. “You were over it three maidens later. Though, maybe Fandral is onto something. Maybe your late night rendezvous with Loki are more carnal in nature.”
Thor was dumbfounded enough that he didn’t even see Hogun take a running leap until the man had him pinned to the ground with a knife at his throat.
“You think . . . me and Loki?”
Hogun shrugged and Volstagg shouted, “You did disappear into the wilderness for a season looking for him.”
“He’s my brother!”
“It’s not unheard of,” Fandral pointed out.
“And we’ve noticed how you look at each other,” Sif added with a feigned swipe at Thor’s face when he managed to grab ahold of Hogun’s boot and flip him off his feet.
“How is that?” Hogun asked.
“Loki looks a Thor like he wants to devour him body and soul, maybe with whipped cream on top,” Volstagg supplied.
“Is everything a food metaphor with you?” Fandral complained, ducking one of Volstagg’s meaty fists and using the momentum of a roll to trip him.
“And Thor looks at Loki like a puzzle he can’t wait to figure out,” Sif added.
“Because he is impossible to figure out,” Thor argued. “He’s my brother.”
“Okay, fine, fine, you’re not playing naked flag-wrestling,” Sif acknowledged. “But if you were, I’m letting you know that I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
“Me either,” the warriors three all chimed in.
Thor wanted to protest further that he had never thought about his brother that way. Loki was brilliant and he was someone who Thor loved deeply, but there were so many lies. Thor knew that he himself was not a complicated man. He appreciated simplicity, directness and sincerity and Loki was none of those things. Loki was entertaining and Thor believed that deep down he had a good heart, but lying was not attractive and by extension, Thor could not find him attractive. But curse Sif and the warriors three for even making Thor think that way. Loki was Thor’s brother, even if he were the most attractive man on the planet, they would still be brother first before all things.
“My friends, I swear to you: Loki and I are not lovers; I am not secretly meeting with him in the woods at night; I really am spending time riding the horse and sleeping under the stars.”
“The horse?” Sif asked. “Doesn’t she have a name?”
Thor shrugged. “I do not know it.”
“Well shouldn’t it in the very least be ‘my horse?’”
“She is not my horse. She is her own being and my companion until such time that she chooses not to be.”
“So, does that mean that you and the horse . . .” Fandral began, before Thor’s hammer conked him on the head.
Next Chapter: An Incident on Misheim
Chapter 4: Unwanted Speculation
After returning from the hunt, Thor’s days were monotonous. He now remembered why after only one day accompanying their father to court, he and Loki had agreed that it was better for princes to attend lessons than spend all day with their father. Court was boring. The politics were occasionally interesting, when a conflict of actual significance arose. But diplomacy involved a lot of speechmaking and only interested Thor when a visiting princess or prince wanted to be shown around. The Warrior’s Council sounded as though it should be fun, but in peacetime it was mostly logistics concerning how many troops to deploy to outposts, supply chains, and training stratagems. Despite the tedium, none of it beat the soul-sucking agony that was Royal Audience. Not only did Thor have to not fall asleep, but he had to pretend to care about the petty problems of the citizenry. He once found himself lightly pounding Mjolnir on his head while two goat farmers argued about the property line between their pastures. There was no doubt in his mind that Loki would be much more suited to all of this. But clever Loki had run away, leaving it to Thor.
Thor should’ve been on the front lines. He should’ve been giving inspiring speeches and creating songs of praise for his best warriors. He should’ve been training the troops instead of discussing how they should be trained and when war came, he should be atop the throne, glorious.
The only fighting Thor ever got was when he sparred with his friends in the mornings before court. He didn’t even brawl in the dining hall anymore, at his mother’s insistence that it wasn’t “kingly.”
Thor’s only relief was at night when he strolled out to the stables. Then he and the horse would ride out past the pastures and find a place to sleep under the stars.
***
“Okay, enough,” Sif huffed one morning during sparring. Thor had just turned down Fandral’s offer for Thor to accompany them to a tavern that night. “What is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?” Thor panted. He could take any one of his friends, even without Mjolnir, but Sif and Hogun were double-teaming him and putting up a good fight.
“I think she means why you’d rather spend time with your horse than with us,” Fandral shouted from the other mat, earning a sharp punch to the face from Volstagg for his distraction.
Thor shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell them that the horse was his only connection to his brother, though he knew Sif suspected. “I like sleeping outside.”
“I enjoy the pleasures of the camp, myself,” Volstagg agreed. He had subdued Fandral and was sitting on top of him, waiting for Fandral to plead mercy. “But I also enjoy a rich mead and the company of my friends. Surely you need not spend every night riding.”
“I don’t spend every night riding,” Thor began to protest, trying to think to the last night he had spent in a bed. It had been a moon ago, when for Fandral’s birthday the friends had gone to a tavern and Thor had spent a pleasant evening in the embrace of the barmaid. The horse had not been pleased with him and had defecated on his shoe before making him chase her to their place of rest for the night.
Hogun took advantage of Thor’s distracted remembrance in oder to grab him by the hair and slam him into the ground. He rolled out of the way, but was stopped by Sif separating her two-bladed staff and slamming one into the ground on each side of him, effectively pinning his arms. She pressed her boot into the back of his neck and Thor ceded. He heard Sif and Hogun slapping each other in triumph.
“Is it Loki?” Sif asked as she pulled him up.
Thor knew she understood that the magical horse was a connection to his magical brother, but Thor was unprepared for her to state it so bluntly. He gaped at her.
“It’s fine to miss him,” Fandral added from where he was now dancing around Volstagg again. “I actually miss the man a little myself. It’s fun to spar with those doubles he creates and with Loki around things are never dull. But ignoring your friends to sleep in the woods each night is an extreme reaction.”
“Valhalla, Fandral, you would fit in well at the ladies sewing circle,” Sif complained. And she would know, considering how many she’d been dragged to kicking and screaming - none of which improved her sewing. “I didn’t mean to make Thor talk about his feelings. Not that I’m discouraging you from doing so,” she added to Thor. “Or encouraging you. I meant to ask whether you are sneaking off every night in order to see Loki.”
“What?” Thor asked, stunned.
“The lady does have a point,” Volstagg mused. “Loki has conveniently disappeared after doing some no doubt despicable thing to cheat a man out of his payment. But the two of you are rarely separated for long. The most reasonable explanation for you sneaking out of the palace at night is to see your brother and probably unwittingly help him in whatever mischief he is planning.”
“Even though you claim to miss him,” Fandral added. “You are happy. Happier than I have seen you since you lost the right to ever enter Sif’s bed again when you lost that blindfolded fight with her.”
Sif smirked, reminding Thor of the many reasons he was both blessed and cursed to have ended his casual relationship with her.
“Maybe I just got over it.”
Sif rolled her eyes, flipping her spear casually as she circled him. “You were over it three maidens later. Though, maybe Fandral is onto something. Maybe your late night rendezvous with Loki are more carnal in nature.”
Thor was dumbfounded enough that he didn’t even see Hogun take a running leap until the man had him pinned to the ground with a knife at his throat.
“You think . . . me and Loki?”
Hogun shrugged and Volstagg shouted, “You did disappear into the wilderness for a season looking for him.”
“He’s my brother!”
“It’s not unheard of,” Fandral pointed out.
“And we’ve noticed how you look at each other,” Sif added with a feigned swipe at Thor’s face when he managed to grab ahold of Hogun’s boot and flip him off his feet.
“How is that?” Hogun asked.
“Loki looks a Thor like he wants to devour him body and soul, maybe with whipped cream on top,” Volstagg supplied.
“Is everything a food metaphor with you?” Fandral complained, ducking one of Volstagg’s meaty fists and using the momentum of a roll to trip him.
“And Thor looks at Loki like a puzzle he can’t wait to figure out,” Sif added.
“Because he is impossible to figure out,” Thor argued. “He’s my brother.”
“Okay, fine, fine, you’re not playing naked flag-wrestling,” Sif acknowledged. “But if you were, I’m letting you know that I wouldn’t have a problem with it.”
“Me either,” the warriors three all chimed in.
Thor wanted to protest further that he had never thought about his brother that way. Loki was brilliant and he was someone who Thor loved deeply, but there were so many lies. Thor knew that he himself was not a complicated man. He appreciated simplicity, directness and sincerity and Loki was none of those things. Loki was entertaining and Thor believed that deep down he had a good heart, but lying was not attractive and by extension, Thor could not find him attractive. But curse Sif and the warriors three for even making Thor think that way. Loki was Thor’s brother, even if he were the most attractive man on the planet, they would still be brother first before all things.
“My friends, I swear to you: Loki and I are not lovers; I am not secretly meeting with him in the woods at night; I really am spending time riding the horse and sleeping under the stars.”
“The horse?” Sif asked. “Doesn’t she have a name?”
Thor shrugged. “I do not know it.”
“Well shouldn’t it in the very least be ‘my horse?’”
“She is not my horse. She is her own being and my companion until such time that she chooses not to be.”
“So, does that mean that you and the horse . . .” Fandral began, before Thor’s hammer conked him on the head.
Next Chapter: An Incident on Misheim