Author's Note: Well, here it is, the final piece of Asgard's Twilight. I have no excuse as to why it took so long to post this...laziness? Lack of creative inspiration? In any event, I sincerely apologize for not getting this to you guys sooner! Thank you so much to all our faithful readers and followers of this huge epic story! We had no idea when we started writing this how long it would take (3 years! Yikes!), or how epic the story would end up becoming. It was as much of a character building story as it was an action-adventure tale! And don't you worry; we have plenty of other related stories we are planning to get out there hopefully soon. So be on the lookout for those! Please enjoy this last little nugget of Asgard's Twilight, and please leave reviews for us! As always we love hearing from all of you!

EPILOGUE

"So Frodo and Sam set off on the last stage of the Quest together. Frodo paddled away from the shore, and the River bore them swiftly away, down the western arm, and past the frowning cliffs of Tol Brandir. The roar of the great falls drew nearer. Even with such help as Sam could give, it was hard work to pass across the current at the southward end of the island and drive the boat eastward to the far shore.

"At length, they came to land again upon the southern slopes of Amon Lhaw. There they found a shelving shore, and they drew the boat out, hight above the water, and hid it as well as they could behind a great boulder. Then shouldering their burdens, they set off, seeking a path that would bring them over the grey hills of the Emyn Muil, and down into the Land of Shadow."

Loki came to the last page once more and slowly closed the book, a thoughtful expression on his face. In the month since his recovery began - and now it was nearly complete, he knew - he had read and reread the book that his son gave him at least twice. He would never admit it to anyone other than his immediate family, but he quite envied Midgard for having such a written tale readily available for perusing. The plot this J.R.R. Tolkien invented was undoubtedly one of the most intricate and entertaining plots he had ever read before. Not even the greatest Asgardian scholars could have dreamed up a tale of that magnitude. Loki had found himself, with every page he read, being drawn deeper within the world of Middle Earth, through all its histories and intricate details, down to the maps that were placed with great foresight into the back of the book. The characters, from the Hobbits to the Men to Gimli the Dwarf to Gandalf the Grey . . . all were so complex and well-rounded that Loki could actually believe that there could have been a time on Midgard where magic was prevalent and these events really could have happened. He had also been pleased to find that magic was not only appreciated in this tale, but that it was near the center of all the conflict and power the book possessed.

And it had been different every time he had read it. With each new reading, he had discovered other tiny details he had not noticed the first time, from the dialogue to the environment surrounding the characters. It was not often that a book could entertain him every single time he read it; most of the works he had studied had quickly bored him when he tried to read it again. Loki smiled ruefully; what a pity that he had never met this Tolkien - he had a feeling he would have been a wonderful conversational companion.

And yet . . . for all its intricacies, Loki felt there was something missing. He frowned, glancing back and rereading the final paragraph of the Fellowship of the Ring. The book seemed . . . incomplete; there were too many hanging threads, the most obvious one being that the Ring had not been destroyed . . . Gandalf was dead . . . Aragorn had not been crowned king . . . Sauron had not been defeated . . . was it possible Tolkien had not finished his great tale? That was a disappointing thought; Loki could not help but crave more of the story.

He closed the book once more, setting it on the cushion beside him, and glanced towards the open window with a small sigh. Late afternoon sun streamed through the open panes and across the floor beside his couch. Spires and pinnacles from the very tops of the city were visible from where he was sitting, but the city below was hidden beneath the balcony. The sounds wafting up from below were strange and alien to him, and he sat for a few moments and just . . . listened.

The voices were the first thing that Loki noticed clearly. The sounds of alien voices speaking in different dialects - Spanish and French, he thought he heard clearly - was something completely foreign to Asgard. The Aesir had always been a united people, with one language and one way of life for thousands of years. The fact that the mortals not only had hundreds of different dialects and cultures but somehow stayed united in spite of their differences was no small feat. Another curiously charming trait Loki had (begrudgingly) come to appreciate over the years. Whether or not the rest of Asgard would come to understand the usefulness of that trait was still to be seen.

A distant roar, growing louder by the second, pulled Loki's attention away from the voices. This sound was even more foreign to Asgard; it was the sound of three Quinjets streaking passed overhead. Loki rolled his eyes in amused exasperation. Mortals seemed to take delight in projecting the appearance of their so-called "military might" by sending out patrols across the city every few hours. Of course, Asgard had their own version of airborne defensive crafts . . . but they only patrolled the skies when Asgard was in dire straights. The armored machines - like the voices heard from throughout the city - would certainly take some getting used to.

He knew the mortals would be on Asgard for quite some time, after all.

That thought gave him pause, and a momentary feeling of guilt needled its way back into his consciousness. He shrugged it off quickly. The past was the past, and it could not be changed - therefore it should not be dwelt upon. Asgard had, for the moment, forgiven him for the part he played in the war against Surtur, and had at last accepted him as a warrior equal to that of Thor or Sif or even the Alfather. It was a feeling he was unaccustomed to, but one he reveled in. He would not allow his guilt to now sour this brief time of approval - for he knew it could not last forever.

His gloomy thoughts were yet again interrupted by a new sound, this one from outside the doors to his family's home. But this was a sound very familiar to the Trickster, and a smile slipped across his face. It was the pitter-patter of small feet in the corridor outside. A moment later the handle turned and the door was pushed open by tiny hands.

Breathless and giggling, Vali rushed into the room, the door closing softly behind him.

"Father!" he cried, catching sight of Loki. He traipsed forward and flung himself at the couch Loki was lying across, grasping with his little hands to try and pull himself up. After a moment or two of struggling, Loki reached down and pulled his son up onto the couch beside him.

The boy threw his small arms around Loki's neck, still giggling excitedly.

"And where have you come from, young man?" Loki asked when Vali had caught his breath. Vali's smile was wider than his father's.

"From the Weapon's Vault, Father!" he said excitedly. "Grandfather took me to see the treasures kept down there. Did you know there is a suit of armor there that looks exactly like yours? It is broken and burned in places, but I know it's yours! Grandfather said it has become Asgard's most treasured possession! Why is that father? Why is your armor so special?"

Loki paused, seeing the excited, naive expression on his son's face as he waited expectantly for an answer. For a moment - one brief, selfish moment - Loki almost told his son about how his father was now the hero of Asgard, how the realm was nearly destroyed until Loki the Son of Odin saved the Alfather from the evil Surtur and brought an end to the war.

Almost . . . but that Loki, the selfish, embittered Loki, had for the moment retreated to a far corner of his conscious self.

So he simply said,

"When you're older, Vali, I will tell you."

Vali looked disappointed for a moment, but his frown vanished quickly enough when he saw the book that lay beside Loki's elbow. He picked it up eagerly and turned it over in his hands.

"Have you finished it, Father?" he asked. Loki ruffled his son's hair affectionately.

"Yes, I have - twice, in fact."

"You liked it?"

"Very much. Mortal storytellers have vivid imaginations."

Vali studied him for a moment or two, his head cocked to the side in an expression meant to imitate deep thought. It was rather amusing look for a child as young as he, and Loki found himself struggling to keep a straight face.

Finally Vali spoke up.

"Did you real like it, Father? You seem . . . almost disappointed about something."

Loki marveled once again at his son's perceptiveness. How could a child as young as he see the Unseen so clearly? He smiled ruefully, holding his son closer.

"No, Vali, I did enjoy it, very much. It is a wonderful story . . . but I admit it seems . . . incomplete. There were many questions left unanswered, and it feels as if their Quest is unfinished. I only wish there was more to the story."

Vali suddenly pulled away and nearly collapsed in a fit of giddy laughter. Loki watched with bemusement as his son rocked back and forth, clutching his stomach with his little hands, struggling to stop the laughter long enough to reply. When he had at last caught his breath, he managed to gasp out,

"Why Father? Didn't . . . didn't you know?"

"Know what, Vali?" Loki asked. He felt very sure that his son had played some kind of prank on him, and he was very interested to learn what.

"This book?" Vali said, tapping the cover with his finger, "This book is only the first part of the story! There are three altogether: The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King. There is more to the story, Father! Much more!"

"Indeed," Loki replied softly, feeling an odd excitement stirring inside him. He should have known better; a story on a scale such as this one had to be longer than one book. "Did you happen to bring the other two with you?"

Vali's smile changed from gleeful to scheming in mere seconds.

"Oh . . . I'm sorry, Father, but . . . I think I forgot it with Lady Pepper and Mr. Stark on Midgard."

Loki stared at his son for a good long while. He couldn't smile; he shouldn't smile. Vali was manipulating him into letting him go back to Midgard to visit his mortal friends. He had to admit, it was a trick worthy of the Son of Mischief.

But he shouldn't laugh. He wouldn't laugh.

But he could smile.

"Clever, Vali," he said quietly, slowly clapping his hands in applause. "Very clever indeed. You thought that by "forgetting" the other books on Midgard you would allow me to visit your friend Howard much sooner. Is that right?"

Vali looked very pleased with himself and nodded enthusiastically.

"I thought of it myself! Was it a good joke?"

"Oh, a very good joke, son," Loki agreed, surreptitiously tightening his grip on the boy's waist. "But I think you shall soon see that your father is far cleverer than yourself. Since you have forgotten the books with the Starks, you shall simply have to tell me how the story ends."

"I couldn't do that, Father!" Vali seemed almost shocked. "It would spoil the story for you!"

"Ah, but I think you will tell me," Loki disagreed with a mischievous chuckle, "or did you forget that I still owe you a good tickle?"

Vali squealed and tried to leap from the couch but Loki was quicker. Pulling the boy into his arms, he poised one hand over Vali's feet, while the other kept a firm grip around the squirming child's waist.

"How does the story end, Vali?" Loki asked sweetly, threatening with his fingers. Vali bit his lip and tried to curl his feet under himself to avoid the inevitable tickling.

"I won't tell," he muttered stubbornly, trying hard not to start laughing.

"Tell me," Loki repeated, wiggling his fingers closer.

"No!"

"Tell me, Vali. There is no escape."

"I won't tell!"

"Then you asked for it!"

As promised, Loki unleashed a furious storm of tickling such as he had not been able to do for too long. Hearing Vali's hysterical giggling and breathless refusals was a sound Loki had not heard for five long months. For a moment it was as if the war had never happened, as if he had never been away, as if things had remained unchanged forever. His family made it worth all of the suffering and hardship and pain he had to endure for those long months.

"Honestly, which one of you is the child? I certainly cannot tell the difference!" an amused voice called out over the chaos in the room.

Father and son looked up from their battle to see Sigyn standing in the main doorway, an exasperated look on her face. Loki relinquished his grip on Vali and allowed him to tumble harmlessly off the couch.

"This child of yours has played a very cruel prank on me, Sigyn," Loki gestured to Vali, a look of mock-hurt on his face. "You must punish him most severely for his insolence."

"It seems you have already done that, Loki," she answered with a smile, bending down to embrace Vali as he ran up to her. "And there's another thing; if Vali commits any sort of trick or prank, that makes him your son, not mine."

Loki cocked an eyebrow, nodding his head at his wife.

"Touché," he admitted.

"Mother, can I go back to Midgard soon? I promised Howard that I would," Vali asked eagerly, tugging on Sigyn's skirts.

"Yes, Vali, but not just yet. Your father and I have missed you very much while you were gone. Can we not have you to ourselves for just a little while longer?"

Vali considered this very carefully for a few minutes, then gently touched Sigyn's growing belly.

"Alright, Mother. After my brother is born, may we go back then?"

Sigyn sighed in motherly exasperation.

"Yes, Vali. After that, perhaps we shall all visit Midgard together."

Placated for the moment, Vali turned and skipped back to the open balcony door, pulling himself up to just peer over the side of the stone railing to the city down below. Sigyn and Loki followed after him, the latter keeping his movements slow and deliberate; he was nearly healed but he knew he mustn't push himself too hard too quickly. When he reached the place where Vali stood he gently scooped him up in his arms, and the three of them looked silently out over Asgard.

The suns were beginning to slowly make their way into the western sky, their rays reflecting off of polished spires and pinnacles of the city below. Overhead, darting in and out of the sparse clouds, the black specks of Quinjets and other aircraft were just visible against the golden backdrop. The roars of their engines were faint now, merely a low humming that could be easily ignored. Away to the left, beyond the glittering Bifrost and Heimdal's outpost beyond, a large black shape was just visible, hovering just over the sea like a giant bird. SHIELD'S mighty Helicarrier had taken up residence on Asgard's southern border some days ago and had not moved since. Yet another odd sight in the Golden Realm.

"How long are the mortals staying, Father?" Vali asked quietly. Loki paused for a moment.

"It may be for some time, son," he admitted.

"They are helping us to become strong again?" the boy inquired further. Sigyn smiled and kissed his check softly.

"Yes, Vali. They have offered to stay until Asgard is as it was before the war."

"That is good," Vali said firmly. "Midgard is strong. They have many heroes to help them stay strong. Together, no one will try to hurt Asgard again."

Loki smiled, gathering his family closer to himself.

"Let us hope you are right Vali."

For who could know how long peace would last?