Chapter Text
III.
Loki pulled down his shirt while the healer sat back and began to speak, "Your back has healed well, and I can find no sign of the toxin in your blood, but you will need to rest to regain your strength. I would recommend waiting to attempt a long journey for another week. Were you one of my usual patients I would recommend longer, but because I am unfamiliar with your healing capabilities, I can only estimate."
Tucked away in the corner of the room, Thor was just far enough to offer a bit of privacy while still making sure the healer knew her trade. He watched as the she began to pack up her paraphernalia. After she left to collect her payment, some of the choice bits of meat from the game Sif and the Warriors Three brought back, Loki and Thor stared each other down, waiting to see who would speak first. In contests of this type, however, one of them was the uncontested winner.
"Loki, are you still angry with me?"
After a moment silence, Loki spoke, "No… It seems to me a little unnecessary for a whole party to stay. You and the others should return, I'll be well enough on my own."
"Loki—"
He shrugged, "All I'll be doing is sleeping and eating soup, hardly a worthy adventure."
"Mother would prefer to hear word of us directly, even if father has sent Huginn and Muninn…"
"Yes, and you lot could cease to impose on this… obliging farmer."
Thor nodded as he stood, speaking as he opened the door, "You are right, Loki. I will go tell the others to prepare to leave."
Loki's eyebrows lifted, "You'll be going, then?"
"Of course not, I'll stay with you brother, never fear!"
Thor stepped through the door so quickly he missed his brother's scowl.
Outside Sif and the Warriors Three had built a fire and were now roasting their game. Volstagg was overseeing the turning of the spit, and judging by the wonderful smell things were going well. The farmer's wife was cooking vegetables over her own fire near the house, and the farmer and his children were busy with chores. Even so, he could see the young farm maid eyeing Fandral as she carried a bucket from the barn. Thor chuckled to himself; the farmer would probably be more than pleased to have the current company off his hands.
As he approached, Thor could hear his friends laughing loudly, and he was curious to find out what was so amusing. They seemed to be discussing the killing of the wormbjorn. Volstagg was using his best story telling voice, describing the creature attack, but he seemed to be having trouble.
" …and the valiant Loki was, er… slashed in the back…" he trailed off, loosing his momentum.
"How about struck from behind?" offered Fandral, only half paying attention.
Thor could hear Sif's raised eyebrow in her voice, "While fleeing, is what that sounds like."
Frandral made another attempt: "The valiant Loki turned mightily and was viciously rent from behind—No. I am afraid no amount of adjectives can save that sentence."
"Well," said Volstagg hopefully, "maybe the next part will make up for it."
"What part?" Sif's voice oozed sarcasm, "Where he boldly bled behind a bush?"
Fandral let forth a loud crowing laugh, "Sif, when did you drink the mead of poetry?"
"No, I meant—" but Volstagg never had time to finish his sentence.
Thor's rage boiled in his veins until it burst into a thundering roar
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"
His friends were taken completely by surprise, and his only reply was shocked and wary faces.
He wanted to destroy something, throw the roasting beast in the fire, but that would hardly be enough. Storming off to sate his rage, Thor walked a good distance away from the farm. It felt as if he were ready to burst in frustration, and there was only one way he knew to release the tension. Violence.
He hurled Mjölnir into the forest where she flew directly through the trunk of a tree with a mighty crack before returning to Thor's hand. The tree groaned and toppled over into its fellow, their combined weight uprooting the second tree and sending them both crashing into a third with a great groaning and clamor of leaves beating against each other.
When he was done watching the destruction, and feeling at least a little bit satisfied, Thor turned back to look towards the farm. That's when he saw Sif, standing and watching from atop the hill, near the barn. Her obvious weariness of his mood was almost enough to set him of again. Although always infuriating, he almost preferred Loki's disregard for his personal space when he was in a temper. He hated it when people decided to tip-toe around him. But it seemed Sif was satisfied he was safe to approach, and began striding down the hill towards him.
"What is it?" Thor demanded, surliness permeating his voice.
"I would like to understand what's made you so upset," she said, never one to dance around an issue.
Thor grunted and began pacing like a caged beast, though all the world was open to him. How to explain his thoughts to Sif? "I am angry because… Loki was right."
"Right about what?"
Thor stopped in his tracks and looked directly into her eyes, "About what people would say of his wounds."
Sif looked concerned, or confused, "Volstagg was trying to think of the best way to tell the tale. We were only speaking in jest. Although" she hastily amended when she saw Thor's expression darken, "it was perhaps in poor taste. You know we would not cast such aspersions on Loki's honor in front of others."
"I know," Thor's expression relaxed, the anger beginning to bleed out of him, "but not long ago we argued over that very subject. Loki was certain he would be called a coward. I said it was not so. It was startling to hear his fears confirmed.
"I am sorry, my prince; we did not know."
"Loki has asked that we leave out the location of his injury in the retelling, and I've agreed."
"As you wish."
Thor seemed to notice for the first time he still held Mjölnir tight in his fist, and he hung her back on his belt a little self-consciously.
"Thor," began Sif hesitantly, "there is something that worries me."
"What would that be?"
"I cannot help but wonder how the wormbjorn came to be in the forest at all, they are not usually found in this area," Sif hesitated before continuing, "It just… seems too convenient to have been an accident."
"What are you saying?" said Thor, his voice darkening.
"Merely that… it could have been deliberate. Someone… could have released it, though it would be difficult to transport and conceal. But it would be simple with magic…"
"Are you implying Loki had something to do with it?"
"Well, you must admit—"
Thor could feel his temper boiling to the surface once more, "That he deliberately released it so he could become grievously injured?!"
"No!" Sif shouted, then quieter, "no… but keep your guard up."
Thor tried to understand the look in her eyes, but could make nothing of it. It was obvious, however, that she was concerned, and that was something he could appreciate, "Thank you for the warning, Sif, but do not worry. I can handle any danger."
Thor smiled reassuringly, but Sif could only give a weak smile back.
"Loki merely needs to recover his strength, now. I have decided it would be best for the rest of you to return to Asgard—I know Mother would be glad to hear news of us from the mouths of friends, whatever Huginn and Muninn have told my father."
"I would ask to stay and assist you."
Thor gave her and indulgent smile, "You are a good friend, Sif, but it is not necessary. If I know Loki, he would rather be alone."
Sif looked at him out of the corner of her eye before nodding in assent; Thor could tell she left many things unsaid, "I will tell the others to make ready to leave by the morning."
"Thank you."
Thor grasped her by the shoulder and squeezed. He appreciated the offer, but Sif and Loki were sure to have an altercation if it were only the three of them.
"Sif?" Thor began to slyly grin.
"Yes?"
"One other thing, do not tell Loki I said he was right."
The shield maiden smiled back, "Of course not."
After exchanging conspiratorial smiles, Sif turned back towards the farmhouse to carry out her self appointed task. Thor was once more reminded of what a formidable woman she was. Where even most men would falter, she was not afraid to confront him. He was deeply glad to have earned her friendship and loyalty.
He tarried near the edge of the wood for some time, before returning to join his friends in their feast.