The Hermit Herbalist

Chapter 5 - The Village Meets the Mortal

"We're going into the village today," Loki announced one morning as they finished eating breakfast. Clint's head snapped up and she gave him a victorious smirk at surprising him.

"Why? You seem to be happy sitting out here by yourself," Clint countered.

"By myself? No! I have you now, Barton," Loki said smartly as she stood up and began to braid her hair. "And besides, I must put some rumors to rest and visit the village healer, Ogen."

"Rumors?" Clint asked as he put his duster on.

"According to Kael (not a reliable source), you are my little mortal pet. You don't want to be considered my pet, do you?" she posed as she put a shawl over her hair and grabbed a basket full of herbs and other plants. Clint shook his head, definitely not interested in being Loki's 'pet' in any way, shape, or form. "Now, remember to keep a civil tongue in your head. No quips or snarky remarks. I'm not going to play parent," Loki warned him as they left her house. She bolted the door and began to walk away, taking a different path than the one that led to the woods. Clint caught up to her and they wound their way through glens and a field. A stream stood in their path and Loki gathered up her skirts, preparing to make the leap. Instead, Clint swung her and her basket into his arms and jumped over. When they landed, Loki was quick to scramble down. She shot him a look but nodded her head. She was not ungrateful, but Clint could tell that she was not keen on being treated like a helpless maiden.

They continued their walk and soon, houses appeared. They were rural in their construction: wooden planks, with tar or a mortar covering to protect them from the elements. The roofs were rushes or reeds, also with a paint to meld them together. The streets were well trodden dirt that Clint knew would turn to mud in a heavy rainstorm. People were milling about booths and stalls; the market center and place of business. "Lot of travelers come here?" Clint asked, wondering if these people could leave Nornheim, and possibly provide him a means of getting home. Loki knew that was what he was really asking, and she nodded her head.

"We get merchants and adventurers from other worlds. But our village is rather remote, and they usually pass us by," she answered as she walked up to a booth where an older woman was selling cloth.

"Ah! Ikol! You finally left your hovel," the woman said merrily. Loki wagged her finger.

"It is not a hovel, Thura. It is my home. And, now it is his home as well," Loki said, putting her hand on Clint's arm and pulling him over. "This is Clint Barton, an archer from Midgard," she introduced. The woman, called Thura, eyed Clint up and down.

"Seems fit, for a mortal," she commented.

"Okay, I dare anybody else to make derogatory-" Clint started to say, before Loki elbowed him hard in the side.

"He is a skilled shot, I can assure you," Loki defended and Clint gave her a look. Of course, he remembered the arrow he had fired at Loki during the Battle of New York. Surely, the goddess remembered it too. Thura made a face and looked back at Clint.

"Is he good for anything else?" she teased, and a pink filled Loki's cheeks and Clint gaped at her.

"She is a lady and I would never assume something so vile," Clint answered, defending Loki's honor in his own way. Thura looked at him with a hint of respect.

"Well, good! Our herbalist deserves a chivalrous man!" she insisted.

"Thura! You embarrass me," Loki admonished. Clint found himself smiling along with her.

"Alright! Enough embarrassing our sweet Ikol! What have you brought me today?" Clint watched with fascination as Loki traded some of her rare herbs and concoctions for some new bolts of cloth. Nothing fancy, just some browns and greens, and a black or two.