The Friend
After the Second World War, new concerns for Midgard plagued me. Starting with climate change.
As I swam in the form of a black carp, my scales gracefully moving through the tumultuous waters of the Hudson River, an unexpected encounter awaited me. The once majestic and pristine watercourse had been tainted by the imprint of industrialization and human neglect. The polluted waters now reflected the sad reality of a lost modern society.
Just like the seed
I don't know where to go
Through dirt and shadow I grow
I'm reaching light through the storm
I sang to the rhythm of the waves.
Just like the seed
I'm chasing the water
I unravel myself
Growing in slow motion
As I swam through the darkness and mud that surrounded me, my body moved gracefully, in harmony with the turbulent currents. I tried to cleanse the river with my magic, hoping to restore its former splendor.
Despite the polluted waters reflecting the sad reality of a misguided modern society, I sang my melody into the wind. Suddenly, a cruise ship emerged in front of me, an incongruous display of luxury amidst the tainted environment. The frivolous laughter of the passengers and the jazz music enticed me, drawing me closer against my will.
It was there, near the railing, that I first laid eyes on Anthony. In this sea of adults with their formal manners, he stood as a lonely child. Sheltered from the troubled waves of the river, I was captivated by the depth of his brown eyes. They shone with an inexplicable melancholy, belonging to an old soul. He looked in my direction as well, but seemed unfazed by the sight of a living fish in these poisoned waters.
An irresistible urge welled up in my heart, a desire to awaken a spark of wonder in him. My scales transformed into smooth, white skin, taking on the appearance of a child his age. The boy seemed to snap out of his trance, his eyes widening in astonishment at my transformation.
I gave him a conspiratorial smile, and we stood there, enthralled by each other's presence. Slowly, he approached the edge, leaving only a few meters between us. Then, without hesitation, he dove into the dark waters.
In disbelief, I quickly joined him, our fingers instinctively reaching out to intertwine. Our hair floated around our heads, gently caressed by the water's currents. Our eyes sparkled with childlike excitement as the sun's rays penetrated the depths, creating shimmering patterns of light.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted on the surface, disturbing our peaceful immersion. A warning bell echoed through the waters, shattering the harmonious silence that surrounded us.
Agitated movements could be heard as several humans rushed into the water to rescue the boy. Their strong hands grabbed his body, pulling him away from me and out of the water. I remained alone, silent, in the depths of the river. When I heard the boat's engine start, I resurfaced to cast one last glance at the vessel.
The boat was quickly moving away, carrying the boy with it. I caught a glimpse of the torn expression in his eyes as he turned to look at me. His gaze was filled with a complex mix of farewell and gratitude. I remained suspended between the deep waters and the surface. For the first time in centuries, tears streamed down my face.
*
I still occasionally roamed the banks of the Hudson River. I had never lost the crazy hope that the child would find me. I didn't even know his name, but something inside me relentlessly pushed me back to the place of our encounter.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, I spotted a teenager perched on an old wooden dock. Knowing that the boy was too old to see me, I approached without fear of surprising him with my presence. He held a bottle of whiskey in his hand, gazing out at the waves with a distant look in his eyes.
A bald, imposing man dressed in an elegant suit suddenly joined him on the dock.
"Ah, there you are, Tony! I was looking for you!"
I was taken aback hearing the name "Tony" spoken by the man, and my heart warmed at the thought of finally knowing his identity.
"I need some time alone, Obadiah," Tony sighed, taking another sip from his drink.
"Don't be foolish, my boy!" the man insisted, sitting down next to the teenager. "No one deserves to be alone at such a tragic moment."
Tony, in a raspy voice, murmured, "Between the reporters constantly hounding me about my inheritance and you pushing me to take up the mantle of Stark Enterprises, I don't know where I stand anymore..."
Obadiah placed a comforting hand on Tony's shoulder. "I know it's painful, Tony, but you don't have to go through this alone. Your parents were remarkable people, and they left you a legacy that must be preserved. You have the potential to carry on their vision and do great things..."
The boy looked away as the man continued his lecturing monologue.
I felt as if his brown eyes were piercing right through me. He seemed focused on me, as if he could distinguish me in the dark waters. But I was invisible, wasn't I? Then, as if nothing had happened, the young man redirected his attention to his interlocutor.
"Listen, Obadiah, I understand that you want to help me," the boy interrupted firmly. "But please, give me some time to think."
"If you insist, Tony," Obadiah replied with a slightly irritated tone.
He abruptly stood up, a troubled expression on his face.
"You know where to find me if you need someone to talk to!" he added before walking away.
Silence hung heavily, and the twilight gradually enveloped the landscape with a golden hue. Lost in his tormented thoughts, the boy surrendered to pain and anger. His trembling hand found the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He brought the neck to his lips and drank until the last drop of alcohol.
With a tight throat, I watched this grieving boy from my hiding place, wishing with all my heart to bring him comfort.
Then, in a fit of rage, the intoxicated teenager threw his bottle into the river.
My blood boiled in my veins. I swiftly dove into the deep waters, cursing like a madman as I searched for the object among the pile of garbage. Dammit! The river was already polluted enough, no need to add more to it!
Once back on the surface, I angrily threw the bottle, this time aiming it towards the young man.
I knew I had a certain talent for hitting my mark. However, when the projectile struck his head with a dull thud, knocking him unconscious on the spot, I wasn't very proud...
Even less so when the boy fell unconscious into the cold waters of the river.
Afraid that he might drown, I rushed to his aid. Being nothing more than a specter in my divine form, I couldn't directly touch an adult human. I had to use my magic to bring his unconscious body to the shore.
Creating magical ripples around me, I gently pushed Tony out of the water. I quickly knelt beside him to check his breathing and pulse. The young man's steady breath somewhat reassured me. He seemed more knocked out by the alcohol than by the blow to his head.
For a moment, I gazed at Tony's peaceful face, soothed by the calming sounds of the river. As he began to snore quietly, a combination of empathy and exasperation washed over me. On a whim, I leaned towards his ear to whisper:
"Since you seem to enjoy throwing bottles into my river, here's your punishment, Tony: every drop of alcohol you drink from now on will turn into apple juice the moment it touches your lips..."
Once the words were spoken, I felt a mix of satisfaction and guilt. I wanted to help him break free from his alcohol addiction, but I strongly doubted this method was very ethical. I simply hoped that this benign curse would make him reflect on his choices and find a healthier path to overcome his pain.
I then moved away from Tony, allowing the effects of my "punishment" to take effect. His face slightly wrinkled in his sleep, as if he already sensed what would happen during his next bender.
Time seemed to stand still, minutes stretching slowly as I remained by his side, in attentive vigil. I was saddened to see such a young and handsome boy drown his sorrows in alcohol. Softly, a song escaped my lips:
Suffocate me
So my tears can be rain
I will water the ground where I stand
So the flowers can grow back again
The sweet melody blended with the night breeze, creating an atmosphere of gentleness and comfort.
Cause just like the seed
Everything wants to live
We are burning our fingers
But we never forget
Tony's face gradually eased as the song enveloped the nocturnal air with a comforting gentleness. The lines of tension on his forehead relaxed, giving way to a more serene expression.
Feed me sunlight, feed me air
Feed me truth and feed me prayer
Feed me sunlight, feed me air
Feed me truth and feed me prayers
My words resonated in the atmosphere, and nature itself seemed to listen, offering its silent echo to our improvised symphony.
You cannot eat money, oh no
You cannot eat money, oh no
When the last tree has fallen
And the rivers are poisoned
In the early morning, I observed with a smirk as the boy woke up, groaning, clearly afflicted by a terrible migraine. Before leaving, swaying slightly, he cast a final glance at the river, furrowing his brow as if searching for something or someone among the murky waters. To my surprise, he then retraced his steps to pick up the bottle left on the ground.
As the boy walked away, I followed him with my gaze, torn between the desire to follow him and the respect for his need for solitude. Finally, I tried to convince myself that our paths would cross again.
After that episode, I continued to regularly wander along the banks of the Hudson River, hoping for a new encounter. There was something special about this boy that attracted and intrigued me. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long to see him again...
*
It was in all the newspapers. Tony Stark, the teenage billionaire genius, was taking over Stark Industries, venturing into ... environmental protection?
I stood there in awe, gazing at the picture of the boy shaking hands with environmentalists. The article highlighted Tony Stark's bold vision, as he had developed revolutionary technology to clean the waters of the Houston River.
Indeed, his solution was at the forefront of innovation, utilizing advanced filtration systems and innovative depollution methods. Through this technology, pollutants in the river could be effectively removed, offering a glimmer of hope for the preservation of the ecosystem and the protection of biodiversity.
The positive impact of this invention had been so significant that Tony Stark was set to receive an award, an official recognition of his service to the country and the environmental cause.
The ceremony was scheduled to take place by the river, and I eagerly awaited this event.
In the meantime, I delighted in the beauty of the purified waters of the Houston River. Lying on the shore, I felt the sun's rays caress my skin, warming my body and soothing my spirit.
As I gazed at the landscape, a thought crossed my mind: what if, in some way, Tony had heard my song that night by the river?
When the day of the ceremony finally arrived, the crowd had gathered in great clamor. As Tony stepped onto the stage to receive the well-deserved recognition, I felt an indescribable sense of pride. My song may have been a small contribution to this immense project, but it had, in a way, helped inspire and guide Tony on this path.
Later, after the ceremony, I saw the young man linger on the old pier, just as he had done a few years before. He seemed different, more confident. With a graceful motion, he then threw something into the water, creating a perfect ripple on its surface.
"Oh no! Not again!" I exclaimed as I went to retrieve the object.
I then discovered it was a glass bead. The same glass that had once belonged to the whisky bottle, I realized.
But how? Without even officially meeting me... How could he offer me a bead, just like Steve had done before him?
"Oh river god, accept my offering!" the boy shouted in my direction, without truly seeing me.
Then he fell to his knees, adding, "For pity's sake, free me from this curse now that I have made amends. I want to drink mojitos !"
*
Of course, I saw no reason to bother releasing him from my curse. I was a sorcerer, not an undoer of spells.
However, I felt genuine joy as I observed Tony's progress in his ecological quest from a distance. For a time, I truly believed that his determination to make a positive difference in the world would turn him into a hero.
Unfortunately, my hopes were cruelly shattered by the subsequent events. While ecology represented a noble cause, it seemed that profitability took precedence over fundamental principles.
A deep bitterness took hold of me when I discovered that Tony had decided to create military weapons, transforming his company into a global leader in defense and armament.
Over the years, I watched helplessly as Tony Stark transformed into a man I struggled to recognize. His evolution, far from the melancholic-eyed child I had once met on the riverbanks, was marked by greed and an obsession with power.
A group of American soldiers had gathered in the desert with a mix of excitement and nervousness, drawn by the promise of a spectacular demonstration. At the heart of this assembly stood the Jericho missile, a destructive creation of unparalleled scale. Majestically positioned on an imposing transport vehicle, it evoked the power and dominance of a sovereign on the battlefield.
Silence reigned, with everyone holding their breath, as the soldiers' eyes were fixed on this formidable creation. The Jericho missile had become the epicenter of a fascination mingled with terror.
Then came the long-awaited moment when Tony, dressed impeccably, stepped forward with confidence to present his creation. His voice carried by the desert wind resonated with natural authority, capturing the attention of all spectators.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the Jericho missile, a masterpiece of technology and power."
The missile was then released, and the devastating spectacle began. Whispers of fascination gave way to a forbidden silence as the earth shook under the force of the explosions. Flames and flashes illuminated the sky, dancing a macabre choreography of destruction.
Then Tony resumed his speech, describing with calculated passion the impressive features of the missile. He emphasized its extended range, capable of reaching distant targets with deadly precision.
Deep sadness took root in the depths of my heart. I felt torn by the loss of the man I had once cherished. The path he had chosen left me perplexed. How could a man so brilliant and once filled with compassion stray so far from the path he had initially set out on?
The answers to these questions eluded me, and I now found myself facing a man who seemed increasingly unfamiliar.
Without looking back, I left Tony to his madness, abandoning the hope I had once held for him...
*
The coronation of that idiot Thor was fast approaching, and I had set myself the goal of finding a way to delay the event. My brother was far from mature enough to rule. His childish attacks on other realms were proof of that.
Determined to demonstrate my brother's incompetence to rule, I immersed myself in my spellbooks, searching for incantations and rituals that could disrupt the preparations for the coronation.
That's when a daring idea sprouted in my mind: to guide a few Jotuns to Asgard.
At this stage, I was unaware of my connection to these beings from the icy depths. The revelation came during the battle on Jotunheim, when a giant grabbed my arm and my skin tinged, casting doubt upon me.
Events unfolded rapidly after this discovery. Thor was severely punished for his disobedience, stripped of his divine powers and exiled to Midgard as a mere mortal.
But my quest for truth did not stop there. By placing my hand on the Casket of Ancient Winters, I understood that there was no room for doubt. I decided to confront Odin, to ask him why he had lied to me all these years about my true parentage.
Odin's gaze hardened as he attempted to explain the complex reasons behind his choices, invoking the necessity to preserve the fragile balance between the realms and maintain peace. Despite his explanations, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of betrayal.
"So, that's it? I am nothing more than a stolen relic? Why did you raise me as your son if I am the child of your enemy?" I retorted bitterly.
"You were an innocent child, Loki. I couldn't let you die..." the Allfather simply replied.
"How generous of you... raising a monster within the realm of the gods! Do you even know how difficult life has been for me in this realm?" I exclaimed with anger.
"You have been among the most privileged, my son. Do not expect me to pity you!" Odin retorted sternly.
"Privileged? Me? The Aesir despise me and have constantly reminded me of how different I am!" I shouted, the resentment burning in my words.
"Perhaps if you didn't spend so much time with those mortals, our people would appreciate you for who you truly are."
"It is on Midgard that I found the chance to be accepted for who I am, not in Asgard!"
"Silence!" Odin thundered, his voice resonating as he struck his staff against the ground. "Show more gratitude, Loki. I believe I have given you too much freedom. Do not dare to return to Midgard to aid your brother. My wrath will be terrible if you disobey me!"
A mixture of rage and frustration seized me in the face of Odin's inflexibility. Once again, his concerns seemed to revolve solely around his precious son, Thor.
Without a word, I turned away from this Allfather who seemed to be mine no longer.
A sense of loneliness enveloped me as I wandered through the dark corridors of the palace, lost in my thoughts.
Suddenly, a piercing whistle shattered the silence that prevailed.
My heightened senses immediately picked up on that familiar sound, emitted by my beads when a child's distress was expressed. My heart tightened in my chest as I identified the source of that whistle: Tony's glass bead.
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