Loki waits patiently.

"I don't know," she says eventually.

"I hope you will try," says Loki earnestly.

Thor looks uncomfortable and shrugs.

Loki decides to quit while ambiguously ahead, and goes off, looking for Father.

Her father is working at his loom.

"Father?" says Loki. "May I talk to you?"

"Of course, child," he says, glancing up at her with a smile. "Come here."

Loki approaches, and sits, and puts her scepter down. "I asked Thor to stop teasing me for falling, but I don't think she understood me, and anyway I don't like to fall. Is there magic that would make it stop?"

"There is no such magic, my dear," Frigg says affectionately. "I have done what I can for you already."

Loki thinks about this. "Could more magic be invented?"

Frigg shakes his head.

"Then where did the magic that already is come from?"

"I don't know, child," he says. "It is far older than I."

"If I learned it perhaps I could find how it is made and how to make myself stop falling."

"The magic I work is men's magic, and not suitable for a young warrior," says Frigg, kissing the top of Loki's head. "And you are young and do not know it, and I am old and know it very well."

"I can't be a good warrior if I keep falling," points out Loki.

"Why not? I could defeat my enemies with them!"

"...My daughter," says Frigg, "warriors do not use magic in battle. It is unwomanly."

"Why?"

"Because it is dishonourable," he says firmly.

"How is it dishonorable, though?"

"Battle is a contest between women that measures skill at arms, not a contest between men that measures skill at sorcery."

"Okay, so I guess I won't defeat my enemies with sorcery," says Loki, "but I won't be able to defeat any enemies at all if I keep falling. I want to try to fix it."