Middle-Earth Meets Loki

Part 33

They moved swiftly, picking their way through the dense trees, Legolas, Loki, and Haldir in the lead, whilst Aragorn and Boromir flanked the back to aid the hobbits. Loki was tense and restless but did not let it show, not wanting to overwhelm anyone further. If he showed his reservations, it would only cause everyone else to get worried. It was different this time. These people were actually paying attention to him, listening to his words, and watching him for his reactions and to see what they would do. He did not really have to worry about this before. Half the time on Asgard he was not listened to and ended up having to save his brainless brother from doing something horribly stupid, and the other half of the time he was stuck begging for his brother to just listen and was ignored none-the-less before having to clean up Thor's mess. It always ended that way. As such, this was quite the unique position for him, and he would admit that it was definitely not one that he had been in before. Being in the lead, the leader of the team, and everyone relying on him, but also listening. Loki had to say it definitely made things easier when his teammates actually listened to his opinions. It was a nice change of pace. Rather than having to plead and beg for the others to listen to him, they did so without really questioning him. He was not really used to it, but he was glad that he could manage things better here.

Idly, he did wonder how it was that his family on Asgard was doing. It was a stupid thing to think on. He knew that. They did not care for him, and he would not be overly surprised to find that they had not contemplated his existence much beyond the celebrations of having Thor back and Odin once more on the throne. A part of him wished that they would morn him, truly morn him. Not as some side reference as he knew that they had undoubtedly done. He would not get the same mourning that Thor would. Nor would any really ruly care that much more of him. It was...pitiful, really. Though he had long since made peace with the fact that Asgardian Royalty disliked him, and the people in the palace held contempt for him, he had...gained some allies at lest on the other realms. Less rigid and more agitated with Asgard similar to himself. The common folk of Asgard liked him well enough, partially because he actually bothered to go into their villages and help them rather then send aid via horse or carriage. He interacted with them, treated them as more people rather than subjects. Thor...never really bothered with such things, claiming it folly and stupid.

Perhaps it was stupid. Loki knew that he was sentimental. Clearly, considering that here he was on the brink of what would likely be his death and he was thinking about the people that betrayed him, that mistreated him, that scorned and mocked him. Yet, a part of him knew that he would never be able to truly hate them. Not in the way that he wished. It was not as though it really mattered all that much considering he was stuck here. There was no way for him to get back to Asgard, though he was certain that he could find a doorway between this realm, and another realm, and possibly link himself between worlds, he had done multiple times before. Yet, he also found that despite the brink of death he was facing, he would rather die than see his family once again. To hear their mocking laughter, their sharply pointed insults. He did not wish that, he did not want that.

He would rather die here. On this pitiful island surrounded by abnormal beings that he had not encountered before ready to slay him, but also with people could at least tentatively consider allies, and perhaps even hedging into friends, with Legolas at least and possibly even Haldir. At least they had not mocked him or hated him, slighted him, was cruel and neglectful. He was not overshadowed by Thor here. Instead, when they looked at him, when they worried about him, when they came to speak to him or ask for his advice, it was for him. Not an attempt to gain his trust or get close to him, but because of him, himself. He was the reason. He had proven himself and they wanted to know more, or they trusted him on some surface level. He knew it was too early to really call himself fond of the group, but he was...not hating of most of them. They were...acceptable company for the most part. He did not want to wring his mind out and rend his soul to get away from them.

That...trust, though. The belief that they had in him, to have him find a solution even if it was not the best and even if the situation called for a rather rushed and hasty rush up an island to the topmost part. They followed him. They did as he had asked them to. They believed in him to be able to help him and trusted him enough to know that he would do his best given the situation and his ability. It was...far different, than what he had experienced before. It warmed him, at least a little, the amount of trust and faith that they put in him, if not a tad bit frightening.

He had decided, dying here, surrounding by these nigh strangers, would be better.

That was the sad part though, was it not? Loki contemplated to himself as he moved each individual to another area of the top crest. Trying to cover as much ground as possible and still keep them somewhat capable of locking any gaps that may occur. He was not an idiot, he knew the likelihood of at least one of them dying here. While he cannot say that he was fond of the plan, he knew enough to be aware of it. There was not much more that he could do.

Even still, the thought of dying here, while it struck a certain chord with him, given that he was not prone to dying and he knew that come a few moments, hours, days, or even months he would likely wake once his magic had managed to heal him-the curses of some forms of his magic really-stuck trying to find where they had all gone, or whether they were all dead. Despite all of that, it was a sudden realization that he would rather be here, than anywhere else.