Floriography // A Loki Fanfiction

Chapter Two: Thymus Praecox

This new village that Thor had chosen had a much better grasp on their language than the last, perhaps their language had more time to flourish in the time they were away. Though there were still many terminology and cultural barriers to be overcome. His dense brother only had to flex and show off how he could make it rain for their crops and not just the women were ready to worship him.

"How come, every time we find another mortal settlement Thor. You perform a mere trifling feat and they fall to their knees but I can give them their greatest desires and they shy away?" He stood next to Thor as women laid crowns of dandelions and daisies upon the blonde god of thunder while they were hesitant to do the same for him.

"I'm not sure what to tell you, brother, maybe they do not like your scowl?" He knew it was tongue in cheek but the way Thor teased only served to make him scowl.

Loki gave a roll of his eyes and took the crown gently from his head, laying it on his brother's head instead and he turned. Vanishing from sight in a puff of smoke. A dramatic exit would do to his godly status among these simple people. In reality, he walked away unseen, winding through the small crowd without touching a single one of them. Taking the dirt pathway to wherever it may lead. He was in no mood to be showered with cautious praise and frightened prayers. The dirt path turned into stone and log steps up a hillside, a cliff that overlooked the village is where it ended.

He did not look out over the longhouses. Rather a woman was sitting on a rock with a basket of colorful herbs next to her, she was watching the crowd below. He crept curiously over. She was humming.

Humming a tune he remembered very well. And well, he could not help himself from a bit of trouble after all. As the time came for it he stayed behind her and allowed his magic to fade as she hummed he sang the part, "Ymir, Jotun, skaber aser."

She lurched forwards unsteadily, nearly falling over herself her head turned to look up at him. It was indeed the same woman. He noted a now-healed scar that ran across her nose and just under her eye that had not been there last time. Her lips changed from a partly parted shock to a mildly pessimistic look forming a frown. "Elskarðu mig eins og bölvun?" Her voice was full of caution.

The word bölvun he knew to mean curse. She had asked if he was her curse? Loki sighed, perhaps he would never get to ask his question. Especially if she feared him like the rest. It was not that important anyhow. The woman could have learned it from Thor for all he knew; though he doubted his dear brother had such a tale memorized. He made the motions that she had given him the last time they met, a gesture of shooing. Then he took seat on the rock that she had been sitting on prior, looking out over the crowd himself.

She'd moved slowly around, but she had not left. Rather she had picked up her basket, taken a few steps only to turn around, placing it back next to the rock. She seemed to be waiting or thinking and she spoke when he looked over to her, "Ert þú... Skelfist?"

Skelfist... Trouble? It was not the word used for the god of trouble. His brows knitted to show his confusion.

She wound her hands together, her expression was that of thought. He wondered if she kept it up would steam come out of her ears? Eventually, the woman looked to him then made it a point to look down at the crowd of people still showering his brother with gifts and praise then her eyes went back to him.

"My brother?" Her head tilted, of course, she did not understand so he spoke any way to get it off his chest without regret, "I am simply tired of being in the shadow of my brother with your kind. He receives nothing but worship, praise and song, babes born named in his honor and I... I receive ire for things that are out of my control. A crop fails to hungry wildlife, a lover betrays their spouse, a damn bucket goes missing and it is Loki's mischief to blame." He took a long breath in. He did feel better saying his worries aloud after bottling them up for some time.

Her form crouched down to pluck a bundle of herbs from the basket and she held it out gingerly towards him. It made him think for a moment she had understood him – he knew that was not true. This time it was a tightly wound bunch of pale pinkish-purple flowers. They seemed to grow more commonly as he had seen them all over near rivers and sandy ground. He casually held out his hand after a moment and she laid them in his palm.

She perhaps understood now that words were pointless, she made gestures instead. One hand cupped and her other pinched together then stirred in the cupped one, a symbol for mortar and pestle. Her hands changed as if she was holding something that she could bring to her face and drink. She had given him herbs to drink. Her hands went back to fetch the basket, and when she lifted it her head gave a bowed nod to him. She turned to leave down the pathway.

Later that evening he rejoined the boisterous group of Asgardians drinking the stores of mortal mead in the name of the Aldafaðr, the Alfather Odin.

"Brother!" Loki was having Déjà vu as Thor sat surrounded by women pouring mead and lavishing him with roasted foods, "Glad to have you join us at last." His grin was almost too wide for his face.

Loki sat and took a mug offered but he did not drink it. Instead, he set the flowered herbs on the table and looked down at them silently.

"Ohho, another gift?" Thor had selective memory for certain. Hardly a being that could remember what he had for breakfast could recall a trivial conversation more than a year ago between them.

The others zeroed in on the flowers but paid the trinket not much mind. They were all covered in crowns of dandelions and daisies. One of the women who had been lavishing Thor stopped to look at the flowers Loki had set down, she spoke with another woman and pointed to them. They both looked up at Loki and gave cautious smiles. He raised a brow. While one of them instantly shied away Thor encouraged the other to go over to Loki.

She smiled and made the same gestures that the woman who had given him the herbs did, "Þeir eru notaðir í drykk þegar þeir eru bundnir svona." While he cared not at the present to try and understand the words her actions spoke volumes. As if asking to make it for him. His hand laid gently on the bundle and he pushed them over to her. She returned shortly with a tea that smelled strongly of spiced thyme with a delicate taste of the alpine.

He enjoyed it.