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During the jǫtunn’s recuperation Thor doesn’t visit the shelter again. The great tournament that Odin hosts every decade is only months away and every warrior is preparing for it, eager to win. The crown prince has been the unbeaten champion six times in a row now. He usually does not spend this much time on training, but Sif has been getting stronger and stronger. She actually manages to defeat him from time to time in their sparring sessions.
He is at the training grounds when a young squire leads two æsir to Thor. Behind them, led on a chain leash, follows a slender blue figure. Only when the two men step aside, can he see that it is the jǫtunn mongrel he bought for a pet.
“Continue without me.” Thor wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm and steps away from the fighting, closer to his new companion. Up close he can see that almost none of the wounds, that he had received in a hunting accident, left scars behind. There is a puckered line down his leg, where a deep gash all the way to his bone had previously been, but other than that there is little evidence of the state the ice giant had been in. “Thank you for your service.”
He nods at the two escorts from the shelter and with a bow, Thor is handed the leash. “His blood work has been done and it was established that he is part vanir and part jǫtunn. He has seiðr too, but as you can see my lord he was fitted with a collar.”
A frail looking golden circlet rests on the jǫtunn's clavicle. His previous dirt caked skin is of a vibrant blue shade that looks like a sunny day’s sky. There are symmetrical lines tracing his face and body and the eyes that had been infected and in one case even swollen shut, are open and of the vicious red all ice giants favour. In the daylight the reflective shining is not visible.
Thor slowly reaches out, ignoring the flinch his movement triggers, and lets his fingers trace over the polished horns that curve from the jǫtunn’s temples. They are still a bit chipped in some spots but on the whole they are smooth and Thor imagines their glory when decorated with coils of gold. The biggest change and most pleasant surprise though, is the shining soft cascade of black hair falling down over the jǫtunn's shoulders. He continues the exploration with his fingers, burying them in the dark silk that reaches down to the small of the ice giant’s back.
“I think, with your sky blue skin and your hair light as a breeze, I will call you Loptr.” Thor smiled at the cautious look his pet sent him. “Yes, I think ‘air’ is just what you are to be called.”
“Thank you again for bringing me my pet.” The two æsir bow once more and then they leave. The jǫtunn pet has returned to studying the ground, but Thor can see the growing tension that has it ready to bolt or fight should there be any attack or threat. The staff at the shelter had explained to him when he made the purchase that taming a feral is much different from getting a docile pet. There will be attempts of escape, defensive actions any time the pet feels threatened or stressed, hiding from its Master and even attacks should it feel like being crowded into a corner.
Thor strokes softly over Loptr’s cheek and down its neck. It does nothing to ease the tension in the jǫtunn’s frame, but at least it doesn’t attack or even growl. So far his new companion seems to be trying to gage the situation and the degree of danger it is in.
“So this is the pet you got at the shelter?” Sif and the Warrior’s Three have come up behind him. The new additional ‘threat’ has the jǫtunn trying to get further away, pulling at the leash with the attempt of getting away. When the cuffs around its wrists cut into the flesh with the force Loptr uses to distance itself from the æsir, the pulling gets stronger and more frantic.
“Hush. Calm down.” Thor hands the leash over to Sif to hold and takes a step closer to the distraught pet. With every tiny shuffle he moves closer the frantic tearing and the fighting gets worse, until the jǫtunn starts growling and hissing. The previous flight mode switches into an offensive one and suddenly Thor finds himself facing a snarling ice giant with extended claws and bared teeth. He stops his approach and thinks about the best way to proceed. He could just wrestle his pet to the ground and subdue it like that but then again he might injure it. This is not really a prospect he favours. It took months for the jǫtunn mongrel to recover from its last run-in with æsir; it might in the long run prove to be counter-productive.
"Maybe it would be better to tie it to a post and let it calm down before you take it inside or anywhere close to people?" Sif tugs a little on the leash, jerking the enraged jǫtunn forward. "I've heard that feral and wild ones take some time to trust their master.”
Thor stops his approach and watches his pet and its desperate attempts on fleeing. “You might be right.”
Ideally he would put Loptr in his kennel to make sure he can’t escape and he can’t hurt anyone or destroy anything but the state of mind the ice giant is in, it would need brute force to get him anywhere. The risks hurting the rebelling companion are too high.
With a tactic of alternative pulling and relaxing of the leash, they get close enough to a post of the fence around the practice area that they can tie the jǫtunn securely to it. Following her advice Thor and his friends return to their training, avoiding any eye contact with the new royal pet.
Thor wrestles Volstagg and Hogun and then fences with Fandral. He takes a break and lets Sif take over, resting against a tree. A flash of blue captures his attention and he looks away from the fighting and focuses instead on Loptr. The slender jǫtunn has considerably calmed and is crouching just behind the fence of the training area, watching the wrestling and fencing æsir closely. He is still tense with the readiness to start fighting and trying to get away at any moment, but at least he has stopped hurting himself with useless attempts of freeing himself.
Thor refuses to join the training again and continues observing his pet instead. He keeps his distance and makes sure to never let the ice giant catch him watching. As time passes, the tense frame relaxes somewhat and when the afternoon comes to a close, Thor notices the red eyes drooping, blinking tiredly occasionally.
“So, how do you plan to get him inside?” The question has Thor turn around to find his friends right behind him. They are looking from him to the jǫtunn and back. “I don’t think he will take to being led on a leash and being close to you any kinder than he did before.”
He had been contemplating the same question during the time spent observing his pet. “I will leave him here. I’ll spend the night outside as well. Camp out close to him and let him get used to me.”
His answer seems to startle the Warrior’s Three but Sif just nods her assent and there seems to be something like amusement in her eyes. “I will keep you company.”
His other friends don’t want to be excluded from the plan and all with the exception of Volstagg, who returns home to his wife, start to prepare for a night outside. A squire is sent to get bed rolls and nourishment. While their provisions are being fetched Thor, Fandral, Hogun and Sif pick a spot close enough to the jǫtunn to keep a good eye on the pet, but also far enough away to unnecessarily distress him.
Loptr watches them warily. He has turned his back on the training area and crouches next to the fence post he is tied to, his eyes following the æsir that are setting up camp under a tall tree. Whenever someone comes closer he bares his teeth and growls lowly but on the whole he doesn’t get too worked up.
The squire they sent out for food and their bedding returns and behind him follows Queen Frigga. She smiles indulgently at her son and his friends. “Now Thor, I’ve been told you are planning to camp out here on the training grounds? Wouldn’t it be far nicer to do so in the gardens or in the forest?”
“Mother!” Thor embraces her enthusiastically, almost lifting her off the ground. “Welcome to our warrior’s camp.”
Frigga gently touches his face. “What a great welcome it is. So, why the night time adventure?”
Before he can answer his mother’s question a loud hiss and threatening growl has them turn towards the commotion where they find the squire frozen with uncertainty, holding a bowl with food and one with water and halfway to an enraged and tense jǫtunn pet. Thor sets his mother down and slowly approaches the servant.
“Set the bowls down and slowly move backwards.” His instructions are cautiously obeyed and only when the æsir lad is as far back as the improvised camp, the growling and hissing stops. Loptr still has his teeth bared but he is no longer voicing his complaint but panting, his eyes flitting from one of the æsir to the next, as if assessing them individually. They all stay this way for a couple of minutes and only when the pet sits down from his crouch and relaxes a tiny bit, do the others relax as well.
“Well, that wouldn’t be your new pet, would it?” Frigga’s voice is full of amusement. “He is a lively one.”
“Alas mother, taming him will take some time.” Thor returns his attention to his mother and his friends, content to let Loptr calm down further. “I wonder how we are to feed him if he keeps on acting out like that. How did they handle him at the shelter?”
“Well, Thor this is all strange and new to him. Let him get accustomed to his new surroundings and then get him used to your presence.” She pats his cheek. “Even a docile trained pet is nervous when it arrives at a new home and this one isn’t used to being a pet at all. It takes time and patience. But believe me; if you succeed to tame him you will have the best pet you can wish for.”
He glances once more at the leashed ice giant. Loptr is watching them with hooded eyes, pretending to own an air of indifference that is belied by the claws scratching the dirt next to him. It has Thor grin with amusement to see the attempt at bravery.
“He is rather a pretty pet, I have to say.” Frigga stops next to him and joins him in watching. “What have you decided to call him?”
“Loptr.” The glare he receives from his pet has Thor laugh out loud. The jǫtunn bristles at the noise but otherwise does not react. “Although looking at him like that something like ‘storm cloud’ would be better suited.”
Loptr growls softly as if warning Thor to take care of what he is saying. But then again pets rarely are able to understand æsir speech. They have their own languages, some lilting and melodious, some rumbling and deep, but they almost never learn to speak the tongue of their masters. There is no way the jǫtunn knows what they are all talking about.