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bookishwench“I suppose you must be the one,” Loki said, looking at the little pony uncertainly. “Exactly how did you manage to send out such a strong call for aid?”
The pony, predictably, said nothing at all, but he did nuzzle Loki’s outstretched hand, looking for all the world as though he was politely thanking him for his help.
“There now, small thing,” Loki said, his voice surprisingly gentle since no one else was around for miles. “The Wargs are gone, and you’re quite safe again, though I still don’t understand how you blundered this far into the wild alone without some horrid creature gobbling you up like so much fine bacon.”
Returning Loki’s curious gaze with sad brown eyes, the pony snuffled quietly, still shaken from his ordeal. Loki had been sitting in his rooms in Asgard, reading an especially fascinating volume on the history of Vanaheim, when he had felt an insistent pull from a different world. It was as though someone were desperately calling out to him, pleading for help. He hadn’t been particularly inclined to interrupt his book until he had decided he might as well bother enough to see who it was and lazily peered through a mirror in his room, casting a simple spell to bring the petitioner into focus. He had been very astonished to find the enchantment was coming from a pony, wild-eyed and terrified, encircled by a ring of huge Wargs.
It had taken Loki less than ten seconds to close his book, step through the mirror, and blast the attackers with a bolt of green-tinged magic so fierce that they ran off yelping, their fur singed. He was certain they would not return. What he was far less sure about was how a pony had summoned his attention in the first place. It was no small feat to bridge the gulf between worlds, and he’d never seen an animal who could do it.
“You’re a puzzle,” he said, stroking the pony’s nose. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I believe I shall have to investigate. Don’t be frightened. All will be well.”
He carefully put his hand on the pony’s head and let magic flow into the animal’s memories. Loki had done this with only two other creatures, and the results had proven boring both times. When he was barely more than a child, he had tried to read the memory of a household cat. What he got was a series of images of her favorite napping spots, the knowledge that she had killed three rats in the last week, and a clear understanding that he was annoying her by blocking the sunlight. The other had been a lizard he had found running around the palace garden. There had been a lot of flies in that one’s memories along with images of human ankles and shoes, but that was about it.
This pony, however, told quite a different story.
His memories were topsy-turvy, but Loki soon realized that spells of protection and guidance had been placed on him by Gandalf, which explained how the pony was able to attract Loki’s notice. Gandalf was exceptionally powerful. He also had no patience at all with Loki’s tricks, so they avoided one another. The enchantment had not been meant to summon Loki in particular, only to seek a willing defender, and in that, it had succeeded. Still, the mere fact that this humble little animal was somehow important enough to earn so much protection was intriguing.
Shifting further into the pony’s memories, he retrieved several images, and even a few words. His first owner had been very cruel to him, that was clear. The animal had then been sold, and his new masters were much kinder. Though the pictures in the pony’s head swirled around, Loki was eventually able to pick out Gandalf and even dear Legolas, his one-time paramour. But the animal’s focus was mostly on a set of hobbits, especially a very kind-faced one who had been gentle and given him food, attention, and soft words. While Loki knew in reality the hobbit was probably not impressive, to the pony, he was an object of adoration. The word “Sam” floated into Loki’s head along with a wave of affection, and he nodded.
“Yes,” Loki agreed, “I rather like that one myself.”
The pony whickered quietly, and one last word echoed through the connection.
“So, your name is Bill, is it?” Loki said, withdrawing his magic.
The pony looked up at him alertly.
“Good,” Loki said. “Thank you for showing me your memories. Now, I suppose I had better get you out of here. The Wargs are gone, but Middle Earth has more than its share of other dangers. Come along, Bill.”
The problem was Loki wasn’t quite sure where to take him. This Sam and the others, if they managed to survive whatever ridiculous quest Gandalf was undoubtedly pulling them into, wouldn’t be in any position to take care of Bill for many months, possibly longer, and as to that disgusting little man who had previously been his owner, Loki would sooner strike him dead than give him Bill back. He briefly considered Rivendell or Lothlorien, but he was sure he wasn’t welcome in either place after that debacle with Legolas an age or so ago. He might even be magically barred from entering. No, somewhere else had to be found. Asgard was possible as his father’s law banning Midgardian mortals didn’t pertain to animals, but he couldn’t imagine this humble beast feeling at home stabled with proud Einherjar warhorses, and he wanted the little fellow to be happy.
An idea suddenly struck Loki, one so utterly absurd that it made him laugh, which was always a good sign. He took Bill’s reins in his hand and guided him carefully through an opening between universes. The pony shivered a bit, but he followed obediently through the tumult of clashing realities. In less than a moment, they had arrived.
Frankly, Loki hated this place and almost everyone in it. The wild beauty of the moors and heather and endless dramatic wind were all well enough for a day or two, but the one time he’d bothered with the people in this reality, he’d been simultaneously bored and repulsed. Every last one of them was either a dunder-headed nitwit or a whining drama queen. If he wanted either of those, he could simply talk to his brother or look in the mirror. From the maid to the master of the house, the place was populated with thoroughly unpleasant figures.
Also, Edgar Linton had been spectacularly bad in bed. The mere thought of it made him cringe. He really must have been desperate that day. As it was, Loki had caught himself mentally listing off the major ports of the Nine Realms in alphabetical order in the midst of their coupling out of sheer, unadulterated boredom.
However, hidden among all the petty scheming and pointless overblown passion in this place, he had noted exactly one being that stirred in him a sense of pity and fondness: Minny.
No, this was not the name of a pathetic scullery wench or a pretty townswoman or a gifted crone who dabbled in magic. Minny, his sole concern here, was that prating brat Catherine Earnshaw’s long-suffering pony. He had accidentally stumbled upon her existence one day and had spent over seven hours playing with her, letting her trot around the paddock and even, when he was certain the mortals were out of earshot, bespelling her to float through the air, letting her chase after flabbergasted birds as she whinnied in delight. She was a good, sweet animal, worthy of more thoughtful mistress and in need of companionship.
Loki and Bill arrived at Thrushcross Grange to find the house in mourning, which didn’t bother him as the death of any of the inhabitants was likely to improve the place. As he passed the graveyard, he spied Heathcliff, wild to the point of madness from grief, attempting to prise Catherine’s corpse out of its new grave. Loki gave a tired sigh and shook his head. How gauche! Still, one of Loki’s few scruples was disgust over anyone tampering with a grave, even if it belonged to a Midgardian shrew with a penchant for histrionics. To put his conscience, what little there was of it, at ease, he wiggled his fingers the slightest bit and sent a subtle streak of green towards the man, cursing him. Heathcliff now wouldn’t have very long to mourn his beloved Cathy, so perhaps it was a mercy, though that rather defeated the original purpose.
As he came closer to his goal, a simple spell concealed Loki’s appearance to prevent anyone from remembering him from his last visit. He skipped going to the main house and instead walked directly to the stables. A brief conversation with one of the servants and an explanation that Bill needed to be boarded for a few months met with a pleased nod, and after Loki had paid him a generous amount of gold, the man went off to prepare a stall and food.
“There now,” Loki said, patting Bill’s side. “I can’t stay about here, or rather I could but I have absolutely no desire to, even for your sake. However, I’ll look in on you regularly, and I promise to return you to your Sam if at all possible once he is fully out of danger. Also, do you see that lovely little pony over there? The dark one with the pretty white socks on her forelegs? I think the two of you would get on splendidly.”
Bill did indeed look at Minny, who pawed the ground with one of her stockinged hooves, then back at Loki. He seemed pleased with his new companion.
“Go on then,” Loki said, giving him a swat on the rump. “Do as nature intends. I shall see you soon.”
Nigh on a year passed, and when Loki decided that by this time Gandalf really must be either dead or on his way back (it turned out both were technically true), he returned to Thrushcross Grange, chuckling under his breath as he saw a new foal leaping about the horse paddock and Minny and Bill standing to one side, chewing grass. Bill was now plump and seemed much less nervous.
“Hello again,” Loki said. “I see you took my advice, Bill. That’s a very fine foal indeed.”
Bill looked up at his old friend and trotted towards him gladly. Loki was pleasantly surprised. He had assumed the pony’s gratitude for saving him had been the reason for his affection before, but it appeared that the little thing really did like him.
“Oh, it’s you again, sir,” the same servant as before said. “I’m glad you’ve returned. We wasn’t sure what to do with your pony with things the way they are up at the Grange now.”
“I take it Mr. Heathcliffe has died,” Loki said, not bothering to sound sad.
“He has,” the other man said, and he didn’t seem overly burdened with grief either. “The young Mr. Hareton and Miss Cathy are to be wed and plan to live at the Grange now. I don’t know what their plans are for all the barn animals, but Minny’s to be sold. Her dead mistress’s shade keeps popping up on the moors, wandering about with Heathcliffe’s, and it’s put people out of sorts enough that they want nothing to do with anything she had when she was alive.”
Loki sighed. Even dead, the pair of them could do nothing but cause inconvenience. At least he could make the most of it.
“Bill here seems to have taken a great liking to Minny,” Loki said. “Would it be possible to purchase her and the foal?”
“Aye,” the man said. “I’d be glad to see her get a good home.”
Loki bought the two for a good price, being sure to tip the servant well, then led all three ponies down the road. He stopped at a windswept crag as the daylight faded. He was just about to open a portal back to Middle Earth when he caught sight of two figures beginning to take shape in the darkness, like mist rising in the moonlight given human shape.
“Shoo!” Loki scolded them, flicking his hands. “You’re not wanted here. Go bother someone else!”
For a moment, the ghostly apparition of a woman’s hand appeared by Minny’s head, and it seemed to gently stroke the pony’s mane in farewell before dissolving into nothing.
“Well, she had one redeeming quality after all,” he said. “I’d be moved if the mere memory of her voice didn’t set my teeth on edge. Come along, the three of you. Let’s get you lot to Bree.”
They still managed to beat Gandalf and his charges back from their journey. Barliman Butterbur just happened to find the three ponies wandering conveniently near the town. Taking it as a good omen in troubled times, he took them in and cared for them in hopes that Sam and the others would soon return. Loki was pleased to see Butterbur hadn’t even considered returning Bill to Ferny. He would have hated having to kill the comfortable old innkeeper. Still, Loki stayed in Bree invisibly for over a month, keeping an eye on the now aptly named Prancing Pony.
Finally, the day came when the hobbits appeared once more in Bree. Grinning, Loki directed Bill’s attention to the little group.
“Look now, there’s your own dear Sam,” Loki said, nodding towards a familiar hobbit who was already running towards the barn and looking overjoyed at seeing Bill again. “Go greet him.”
The little pony neighed in delight and trotted right up to the hobbit, who threw his arms around Bill’s neck.
“Bill! Bless me, it’s so good to see you again!” he cried. “Gandalf’s charms must have protected you.”
With a bit of help, Loki thought.
At that moment, Minny and her foal shyly joined Bill and began to explore their new visitor, sniffing his pockets for sugar lumps.
“Now who are these two?” Sam said, stroking Minny and the foal. “Why, you’ve gone and got yourself a family, Bill! Once the Shire is back in order, we’ll have to have a proper celebration under the Party Tree.”
Sam led all three of them out of the barn and back towards their home, though their struggles were not yet done. But on the wonderful day when the last vestiges of darkness were defeated in Hobbiton, Bill the pony got his long-sought revenge on Bill Ferny, kicking him squarely on the seat of his britches and sending him sailing a good ten feet through the air to land in the river. Loki, who had of course been watching, hooted with laughter and invisibly patted the pony’s head.
“Well done, little friend,” he said. “May you enjoy your victory in peace and harmony.”
And, being a very wise pony, that was exactly what Bill did.
