"There were no symbols, just - concepts. I invented symbols for them so I could write notes of it but no corresponding pronunciations exist."

"Can you give an example?"

"Of the symbols I invented?"

"Yes, or how spells are invented from them. What's Asgardian for "house"?"

"House." She illusions up all of her symbols in neat rows in the air beside her. "My alphabet; mind it was only ever intended for personal use and invented by a young child."

"This is a house? This house is Asgardian? This Asgardian house is small? Those are very nice. Are there structural roles in the language that are only served by certain letters?"

"All are grammatical but the second and third are - unidiomatic. The magical language is very different from an ordinary language and I do not think many of your expectations about it will hold; I could get technical about what these symbols do do, but it is not what letters do."

"Please do."

"Your priorities are extremely odd and I do not wish to spend the next several years attempting to explain concepts I know by magical fiat and have never previously attempted to discuss with another soul."

He leans back. "If you have a specific request you should make it, rather than expecting I will guess it."

"The people of the inconvenient phrase," Loki says, "are at least making a convincing show of being willing to leave you and yours alone if left likewise, and I would like to request the reverse, as wars are unpleasant."

"I have no desire to interact with any of them ever again."

"That's promising. Are all your people agreed on that?"

"All of my people are loyal to me."

"So I've been told."

"You have my oath," he says, very deliberately and carefully, "that neither I, nor any of mine, will harm any person in this land who does not serve the Enemy, threaten us, or withhold a Silmaril, nor permit harm to come to them if it can be averted without significant risk to our own lives."

"Oh," says Loki. "Excellent. I was expecting this to be much more difficult." She has little paper on her person and has been using it only very sparingly, but she pulls out her notebook and takes down the exact words, as they might matter.

"Yes," he says wearily, "your error was to talk to them about me. I am grateful you did at least come speak with me also."

"I could not help where I landed, but I could refrain from immediately siding affirmatively with either of you," she shrugs.

"Is that all you desire of me? We've found time to be swift-moving in these lands, and I have little of it left. I'd rather not spent it with strangers."

"I don't know. This sort of injury is not known to our people, and while several of them offered to go out and suffer it so we'd have more information I...forbade that."

"Of course," she murmurs. "But how long have you had it?"

"Nearly a year now. At first I could move; now I can't. At first I could eat; I have not been able to for several months."