Fic: Hide and Seek (MCU, Wind in the Willows xover)

[bookishwench]

“There there now. Everything is well, small one.”

The baby otter snuffled against Loki’s leg, quietly squeaking at remembered fear. He shushed him gently, stroking over his snout with surprisingly gentle hands. The little thing was still shaking, and he couldn’t blame him. He had very nearly met the god of death instead this night.

Loki had been taking a late evening, or perhaps early morning, stroll through the countryside of this rather topsy-turvy world. The soft wind was playing in the treetops, perfumed by the scent of summer flowers and free of the contagion of mortal pollution, at least for now. He remained invisible, but some of the animals of the Wild Wood and the River still sensed Something close at hand, raising their noses and tipping their heads curiously, but as they sensed no danger, they went about the business of animals.

Here, there was no cruelty. The animals might occasionally quarrel, and the bizarre fact that some of them had guns and knives was not lost on Loki, but they never seemed to use them for much. Until recently, he had been amused by the antics of the mischievous Toad, who was now jailed for stealing a motorcar and cheeking the police. Of course, Loki adored him, and there was an excellent reason why none of Toad’s driving accidents had ended in any real disaster. He wouldn’t permit one of his favorites to be damaged, and if a soft green glow had perhaps softened a few crashes, it went unnoticed by any except maybe a few rabbits who knew better than to say anything about it.

He had been enjoying the evening when he had stumbled across a quietly sobbing otter at ancient ford. Long since replaced by a bridge, the spot was only the memory of what it had been, a bit of gravel that disappeared into the shallows. The otter sat at the outmost edge, his eyes constantly scanning, obviously searching for something. At intervals, the creature would dejectedly cry out, “Portly!” then lapse into silence, all his muscles straining to hear a response. Loki silently followed the otter home and eavesdropped on his conversation, learning of his missing son. He felt no remorse over his intrusion into the private discussions of the otters; they could be construed as supplications, and he intended to answer them. Any father who so loved his wayward son and sought his return moved his heart to pity.

For a day, Loki wandered hither and yon, looking for some sign of the little otter, but it seemed as though the Earth had swallowed him like Persephone. Loki shuddered and wished he had thought of another comparison; a thousand horrible things might have happened to this Portly, and he could even now be standing at the gates of the Next World. Hel was not for animals, of course. They were far too sensible for their souls to be sent to such a place, unlike the Aesir or mortals.

Loki had just gone down a road near a human farm when something made him stop. A scrabbling noise, yes, there was that, but also a smell that was Wrong. The scent of fish was laced with death, a subtle perfume that made Loki’s nose sting. He followed the smell with swift strides until he came upon a small clearing not far from a barn.

There, on the ground, glinting in the moonlight like a ravenous silver demon, was a trap baited with fish, its cruel, sharp teeth barely restrained from snapping. Not three feet away was the little otter, tumbling over his own limbs to reach the treat, completely unaware of the danger.

“No,” Loki said, not raising his voice but merely sending magic towards the wicked contraption so that it snapped shut on nothing but air.

The baby otter looked terrified, realizing only now his mistake. In his surprise, he toppled over on the grass, crying for his mamma.

“You must be more careful, little friend,” Loki had said, allowing the animal to see him. “Fish stay in the River, not in the middle of a field. Don’t look for things where they should not be. But then, you should not be here, either.”

He carefully picked him up and cradled the animal in his hand, checking to be sure he was unhurt. No wounds marred him.

“Come along now,” he said. “Let’s get you back to your family. They have been looking for you with great worry. You have been naughty, but I believe they will overlook it as they love you so.”

The otter smiled up at him, choosing trust, and curling into his palm, fell fast asleep in a moment.

The precursors of dawn were beginning to tremble with the anticipation of light, and even the River was lapping at the grass with a soft, gentle excitement. Loki looked far and wide, and when he glimpsed the boat with Mole and Rat aboard, he knew he had found the right animals. Gently, he sent forth magic, the strange, inexorable pull that would draw their attention and follow their instincts towards the little island he chose, dappled in wild cherry and crabapple and sloe. He let his own green light bathe the glen, gently resting the still sleeping otter on the ground before him, and then waited, standing guard to keep him from harm.

Mole and Rat would not remember the encounter. It would be too much for their hearts to bear, so they saw one clad in green, smiling kindly in the rays of the sun that tipped the horns of his golden helmet with gold. Perhaps they saw a beard and goat legs. Perhaps not. He let them choose. Always one for a dramatic entrance and exit, Loki faded from their view but remained near at hand, watching to be sure all was well.

“Live long and happy,” he murmured in blessing as the boat skimmed down the River, heading towards the home of the otters. “May the lost always come home to those who love them.”

If there was perhaps sorrow in Loki’s heart over his own exile from those he loved, he buried it. He took a deep breath of the clean morning air and felt more alive than usual. Then, with a merry laugh, he turned his attention back to a lone washerwoman, who was not what she seemed, as she made her escape from jail.