Thor, page 2
They were safe.
But now Odin would have to deal with Thor.
As soon as they arrived back in the Observatory, Odin sent Lady Sif and the Warriors Three back to the palace. What Odin had to say must only be said to family. Turning to his eldest son, he looked for any sign that Thor was sorry for what he had done. A sign that he knew his actions were those of a bold and arrogant young man not yet ready to rule. But Odin saw none, even when he told Thor he’d been wrong for going to Jotunheim and that he had almost put an end to a peace that had lasted for years. Even then, Thor just stood there, defiant as always.
“You’re a vain, greedy, cruel boy,” Odin said finally, the words hot on his tongue.
“And you are an old man and a fool!” Thor shouted back.
Odin felt a great weariness wash over him. The trip through the Bifrost had taken more energy than he had left to give, and his son’s words stabbed at him. “Yes,” he said, his voice bitter. “I was a fool to think you were ready.”
Odin Allfather did not act without thought. And he had thought through the past days’ events quite thoroughly. He knew what he had to do, even if it meant losing his son forever. Thor needed to learn to be a true king. He needed to learn compassion and humility and patience, and he couldn’t do that here on Asgard.
Thor needed to be stripped of his godly powers and sent to a realm where he would bleed and hurt like a mortal. He had to learn to put the needs of others before his own so that he would be able to do the same for his people. There was no other choice. Thor needed to be sent to Midgard. He needed to be sent to Earth.
Stepping forward, Odin went to stand in front of the panel that controlled the Bifrost. He plunged his spear into the device, and the Observatory began to hum with energy. Turning, he walked over toward his eldest son as his youngest looked on.
“You are unworthy of this realm,” he said, ripping a disk off Thor’s chest armor.
“Unworthy of your title…” He ripped away his cloak.
“Unworthy of the loved ones you’ve betrayed.” Odin’s voice cracked with emotion as he went on. “I hereby take from you your powers.” He held out a hand and Mjolnir flew into it.
Thor’s eyes grew wide as the reality of the situation began to hit him. But his father wasn’t finished. “In the name of my father,” Odin continued, “and of his father before…
“I CAST YOU OUT!” Odin finished. The Bifrost glowed strong, and in one swift move Odin pushed Thor through the portal. In moments, his son was gone from view.
Then, looking down at the hammer he still held, Odin quietly added, “Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.” With the last of his strength, he threw the hammer into the portal and watched it disappear.
A violent shaking then overtook Odin. Time was running out, and there was much at stake. Would Asgard once again be at war with Jotunheim? Would Thor ever learn his lesson and find his way back home? Would father and son ever reconcile?
And most pressing, with Thor gone and Odin sleeping, who would rule the realm?
Odin Allfather did not act without thought. But as the Odinsleep consumed him, he feared his thoughtful actions this time might mean the very end of Asgard.…
A GROWING CHILL
In a few short minutes, the mighty Thor would succeed his father and become the new king of Asgard. All attention would be on him, just as he liked it. No one would notice Thor’s younger brother. No one would notice Loki, the Trickster. And that’s just the way Loki liked it.
Loki paused behind thick curtains as he made his way toward the elaborate Asgardian throne room. For now it was quiet, with no sign of the large crowds of Asgardians that would soon fill the space. It was just Loki. On his head he wore his great helmet, its two horns rising up and then curving like a ram’s. He was dressed in his finest clothes and wore his signature green cape. He soaked in the silence and for a moment imagined that it was he who would walk down the aisle to kneel in front of Odin and ascend to the throne of Asgard. He imagined thunderous applause and saw his mother glowing with pride as he stood, ready to rule.
Hearing the sound of loud footsteps, he shook off the fantasy and turned. His brother was striding down the long hall toward him. Towering over even the tallest of Asgardians, his chest broad and his shoulders straight, Thor held Mjolnir in his hand as he walked, and his long red cape flowed out behind him. Even Thor’s helmet seemed more powerful than Loki’s, its wings catching rays of sun and looking perfect atop his golden locks.
“Nervous, brother?” Loki said when Thor came to a stop in front of him. His eyes were teasing. He knew that Thor never got nervous.
“How do I look?” Thor asked, ignoring his brother’s question. He adjusted his red cape and ran a hand over his armor. He may not have been nervous, but he did want to make sure that he looked the part. He had been waiting for this day for years. Nothing could spoil it for him now.
“Like a king,” Loki answered, his eyes flashing.
Thor gave him a quizzical look. Loki’s answer had been honest, but his tone had held a hint of something he couldn’t quite read. Jealousy? Anger? Envy? His younger brother had always been something of a mystery to him. While Thor had been eager to spread his wings, fight in battles, and go off on grand adventures, Loki had always been more hesitant. True, he had Thor’s back, but it was often only out of necessity. So why would Loki be jealous now? He couldn’t want the throne for himself, could he?
As if sensing Thor’s hesitation, Loki smiled, erasing the fire in his eyes and replacing it with affection. Then, to Thor’s amusement, he turned to a servant passing by with a goblet full of wine. The wine morphed into a group of writhing eels that slithered up the servant’s hand and arm. The servant let out a scream and dropped the goblet, which clattered to the ground. Instantly, the eels disappeared and were replaced by spilled wine. Thor laughed, reassured. Loki was a trickster and a magician. He did not want to be king.
Then Loki spoke, confirming Thor’s thoughts. “I’ve looked forward to this day as long as you have,” he said, his voice serious. “You’re my brother and my friend. Sometimes I’m envious, but never doubt I love you.”
Suddenly, a horn blasted. It was time for the ceremony to begin.
After leaving so Thor could prepare for his entrance, Loki made his way to the front of the throne room. The Warriors Three—Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun—were already at their places of honor, along with Lady Sif. The four were Thor’s lifelong friends. Together, they had gone on many adventures in which Loki had only taken a reluctant part.
The room had grown crowded and was filled with muffled conversation as everybody eagerly awaited Thor’s arrival. But first, Odin appeared, seated on his golden throne, spear in hand. His expression showed pride—and perhaps a hint of sadness—as he looked out over the room. Loki felt a pang, wondering if Odin had ever looked that way at him. Shaking off the thought, he focused on the door again.
“Where is he?” Loki heard Volstagg mutter. “I’m famished. And Odin will not be happy with the delay.”
Turning, Loki gave him a look. The huge warrior was always hungry. “I wouldn’t worry,” he said softly. “Father will forgive him. He always does.”
Then, as if in response to Loki’s words, the room erupted in applause. Standing at the opposite end of the throne room holding his hammer high above his head was Loki’s brother and the future king of Asgard, the mighty Thor.
As Thor kneeled in front of Odin, Loki watched, his expression unreadable. Today, everything would change. For better or worse, he could not tell. Would Thor be a good king? A wise king? Or would he be a rash and foolish one? There were times Loki doubted that Thor was ready—he didn’t listen and he was quick to judge. Would Asgard benefit from such a leader? Watching him now, as Odin spoke the words his own father had spoken to him thousands of years before, Loki had to admit Thor looked like a king.
Odin had just gotten to the final part of the ceremony when a chill filled the room. Loki shivered and rubbed his arms. Trying to ignore the feeling, Loki turned his attention back to Odin, who hadn’t stopped. But then, the banners that hung from the high ceilings suddenly crackled and iced over.
Up on his throne, Odin’s expression grew serious. He seemed to know exactly what was causing this strange behavior. “Frost Giants,” Loki heard him hiss.
And then, as he and everyone else watched in shock, Thor stood up and ran from the room. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif followed. Sighing, Odin went after them.
Loki turned and looked at his mother. “What is going on?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Frigga answered. “But I suggest you go and find out.”
Loki found the answer in the palace’s Vault. The large underground chamber held all of Asgard’s most dangerous weapons, and its spoils of war. It was not a place Loki visited as it was heavily guarded, cold, dark, and home to the Destroyer. The large armored creature was Odin’s greatest weapon. Filled with Odinforce, it could destroy anything that got in its way.
And apparently, something had gotten in its way.
When Loki arrived, he found his brother and father standing among the remains of a great battle. Thor’s body was tense and his eyes were filled with rage as he looked upon the dead bodies of two Asgardians.
“They must pay for what they’ve done!” Loki heard him say to Odin.
Odin looked defeated. The Frost Giants of Jotunheim, who were led by King Laufey, were strong warriors and fierce enemies. A truce had ended the war between Odin and Laufey, but Odin had not left anything to chance. He had taken Laufey’s greatest weapon—the Casket of Ancient Winters—and put it in the Vault, where it had remained safe. Until today.
Raising his eyes from the floor, Odin looked at his eldest son. “I have a truce with Laufey,” he said. “What action would you take?”
“March into Jotunheim as you once did and teach them a lesson!” Thor answered quickly.
Loki heard his father sigh. That was not the answer Odin had wanted to hear. If Thor were to do that, it would cause an all-out war. When Loki had been musing on his brother’s ability to lead earlier, he had never imagined that the day would come so soon. Yet Thor had not been made king—and Odin still remained ruler of Asgard. It was up to him to make the decision.
Suddenly, Loki felt his father’s gaze on him. The Allfather then turned his attention to Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. “Leave, now,” Odin ordered them. “I will have words with my son.”
As the Warriors left, Loki saw the anger and disappointment in his father’s eyes. Thor’s actions would plunge Asgard into a full-scale war. Odin would not tolerate such a thing, but Thor disagreed. And that’s when the yelling started.
Loki knew his father had been clear: Thor was not to act upon the Jotuns. But he also knew that his brother would not accept that command. Thor was not one to wait patiently. Later, when Loki entered the banquet hall, he was not surprised to find Thor raging.
His brother was pacing up and down, his long strides echoing like thunder off the walls. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif had just entered the room, their faces worried, when suddenly Thor walked over to the long table that had been set for his celebration dinner. He flipped it over as though it weighed no more than a feather. Food and drink went flying, as dishes clattered to the ground and glasses shattered.
The room grew silent.
“All this food,” Volstagg said, eyeing the remains of a large cake. “So innocent. Cast to the ground. It breaks the heart.”
Thor shot him a look so cold that Volstagg took a step back as if he had been hit. Glancing around the room, Volstagg’s gaze fell on Loki. He nodded at him as if to say, “Can you please do something about your wild brother?”
Loki doubted there was anything he could say or do. Still, he walked over, reaching out a hand to comfort Thor.
His brother stopped him. “It’s unwise to be in my company right now,” Thor said harshly.
“I think you’re right,” Loki said, not heeding his brother’s advice. “The Jotuns deserve punishment for what they’ve done. But there’s nothing we can do without defying Father.”
As Loki spoke, Thor’s pacing slowed, and a light gleamed in his eyes. Loki gulped. This was not good. Not good at all. It meant Thor had an idea, and while he may have been willing to risk the wrath of the king, Loki wasn’t so eager to do so. He had spent too many years trying to get his father’s attention, and he didn’t want what attention he finally did get to come from a foolish idea of Thor’s. His brother’s next words confirmed his fears.
“We’re going to Jotunheim,” Thor stated.
“It’s madness!” Loki cried, catching the attention of the others, who had been standing apart from the brothers.
“What sort of madness?” Volstagg asked.
“Nothing!” Loki answered, shooting his brother a look. “Thor was making a jest.”
“The safety of our realm is no jest,” Thor said, walking over to his fellow warriors and filling them in on his plan. “We’re going to Jotunheim.”
As Thor tried to convince the others, Loki moved to the side and absently listened. Why did he always seem to get into trouble because of his older brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wiser one? Odin had expressly forbidden that they enter Jotunheim. Yet it wasn’t the first time Thor had done something reckless. And it wouldn’t be the first time Loki was powerless to stop him. Anger shot through him. Did Thor not realize what could happen if they were caught? Or worse, if they did go to Jotunheim and were overwhelmed by the Frost Giants? They would be realms away. Who would save them?
Sighing, he tuned back into the conversation to hear Thor say, “My friends, trust me now. We must do this.” Then he turned to Loki and raised an eyebrow as if to say, “You are in, are you not, little brother?”
There was no choice. “I won’t let my brother march into Jotunheim alone,” he said simply.
Early the next morning, Loki met his brother, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif. The palace was quiet at that hour, with only a few attendants up and about, lighting fires in the hearths and working in the kitchen to prepare that day’s meals.
Silently, they walked across the grounds to one of the stables where their horses waited, already saddled. Their armor had been gathered and now sat at the ready.
The night before, Loki had made a decision. True, he could not dictate his brother’s actions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make plans of his own. As the others checked and double-checked that they had everything they would need for their journey to Jotunheim, Loki slipped away.
When Loki rejoined the others, they were just beginning to mount their horses. Hogun give him a curious glance, but he ignored it. What he had done was none of their business.
“We must first find a way to get past Heimdall,” Thor was saying, referring to the huge warrior who guarded the Observatory and controlled the Bifrost and who would allow them access to Jotunheim.
“That will be no easy task,” Volstagg observed, trying to get his bulky body comfortable atop his horse. “It’s said the gatekeeper can see a single dewdrop fall from a blade of grass a thousand miles away.”
Loki tried not to roll his eyes. Heimdall was not nearly as powerful as Volstagg claimed. He couldn’t be; or else how did the Jotuns manage to sneak past him? It would take a person with true power to make that happen. That was the type of person Volstagg should fear.
Fandral seemed to agree with Loki’s thoughts. “And he can hear a cricket passing gas in Niffelheim,” he said, his voice teasing.
“Forgive him!” Volstagg cried, raising his eyes to the sky. “He meaneth no offense!”
The others were still laughing at the big man’s even bigger superstitions as they finally rode away from the palace. Within moments, they were through the tall gate that surrounded the royal city and riding across the Rainbow Bridge.
The Observatory sat at the edge of the realm. Behind it, the dark cosmos spread out, a black sea of twinkling lights, which made the domed building seem to float in the sky.
When they arrived, Heimdall was waiting for them.
“Leave this to me,” Loki said, eyeing the intimidating man whose face was nearly hidden behind a gold helmet. “Good Heimdall—” Loki began to say.
The man held up a hand, silencing him. “You think you can deceive me?” he asked, and Loki took an involuntary step backward. How much did Heimdall know? He opened his mouth to protest, but the guard went on. “I, who can sense the flapping of a butterfly’s wings across the cosmos?”
Volstagg eyed the others knowingly. Turning to Loki, he teased, “Leaving it to you got us pretty far, didn’t it?”
Loki glared at him. “Get me off this bridge before it cracks under your girth,” he retorted.
Once again, Heimdall held up a hand to silence them. “You are not dressed warmly enough,” he said, causing Loki to breathe a sigh of relief. So that was what Heimdall knew—that they were going to attack the icy realm of Jotunheim. Heimdall must have heard about the attack in the Vault and was anxious to figure out how the giants had slipped past them.
With a nod, the group followed Heimdall to the Observatory. Loki looked up and around at the large domed ceiling, its sides covered with carvings and glittering with an unnatural bronze light. As they all looked on, Heimdall walked over to what appeared to be a large control panel in the middle of the room. He lifted up his sword and plunged it deep into the device. The room suddenly filled with a pulsating, vibrating energy—the Bifrost. Turning, Loki saw a large opening on the side of the Observatory. Beyond it, the cosmos spread out.
Heimdall plunged his sword even deeper into the device, and the Bifrost energy quickened, coalescing into a vortex of spinning rainbow light. It shot out into the darkness, creating a link with Jotunheim.
