The Journey to Find Mimir

Chapter Forty-Five: Afterwards

After we finally pulled away, we moved away from the well. I could go my whole life without seeing another one of those things.

I decided to make camp alongside a little snowbank; a dip in the ground the protected us from the wind. I tried not to look at the expansive whiteness of our new surroundings. Nothing but the white swirl of snow in every direction. Where had Utgard-Loki abandoned us off?

 Thankfully, the giant has not magicked away our supplies. A large stone served as a chair, and I put Hearthstone on it. I wrapped my coat around him and quickly got to work pitching the tent, starting the fire and laying out our one sleeping bag. As soon as the fire started, I began to make dinner. Hearthstone had not moved an inch since I had first sat him down. I couldn't blame him. Flashes of the memory played as I worked. Blue fur and sharp teeth. The bloodied body of Andiron. The rage of Hearthstone's father. The smell of the rotting carcass in the blazing sun. Visions danced behind my eyes as I worked. 

Dinner was ready as night fell. I passed Hearthstone his soup and a spoon. He refused it. I didn't push him. I poured his serving into my bowl. The two of us sat side-by-side in our own little worlds.

Hearthstone pulled out the notepad as I finished my final bite of soup. His normally neat handwriting was shaky.

Now that you know I killed my brother, I understand if you want to leave me here. 

I stared blankly at the notepad. Shock and confusion coursed through my body. I took the pen from his hand.

What? I wrote. 

Now you know it was my fault. I killed him.

No, it wasn't. 

Hearthstone's face was blank. I continued writing.  

You are deaf and couldn't hear him. You fought the beast and got your father. 

I should not have let him go near the well. 

Did you know the well was dangerous?

No.

Then you did everything you could to save him. 

A single green tear dripped onto my words. I kept my eyes on the paper. 

You did not kill your brother. He was killed by that beast. You were a little boy. 

I remembered the way little Hearthstone looked at his younger brother, telling jokes and laughing. How his brother looked up at him with such adoration in his eyes. My heart cracked. I continued to write.

You loved your brother. You would never do anything to hurt him. His death was not your fault.

I took my pen and wrote, in big letters at the bottom of the page: IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT

I snuck a look at Hearthstone's face. His eyes shone with tears. The tracks down his cheeks gleamed in the fire's glow, like he was crying light. He reached down and touched the underlined words I had written. Then he took the pen.

Father always said it was my fault. He says the wrong son died. 

Anger roared in my chest. I wished my hands were still fluent in ASL so I could sign to Hearthstone exactly what I thought of his father. Instead, I resorted to the notepad, pressing my fury onto the page. 

Your father was mean and cruel and wrong. Even if you could hear, there was nothing you could do to save him. You were a little boy facing a beast. You did everything you could do to help your brother.

I reached out and gently grabbed his shoulders. I looked deep into his eyes.

"It is not your fault. I was there and this is the truth."

He sat there for a long time, looking at my mouth. Then his hands made a single sign: his right hand pointing at his chin, five fingers facing me, then his open hand resting on top of the fist of his left hand. His eyebrows moved along with the sign, indicating a question.

Promise?

Immediately, I responded.

I promise, I replied.

I took the pen. I did not expect to swear on my troth a second time, but it came so easily. 

I swear on my-

Hearthstone put his hands over the paper. I looked to him. 

I'm writing, I signed. 

Hearthstone shook his head. I tried to read his face, but all he looked was tired.  

I know what you are writing. You don't have to swear again.

But it's the truth. 

Hearthstone shook his head.  

Your promise is enough. 

He looked away from me and stared deep into the fire. His hands covered the bottom half of his face. The conversation was over. 

We sat there for a few more moments, neither of us moving. Then, I realized that I should leave him alone. I wrote one last note, then stood up and showed him the paper. 

I am going to bed. I will try and be asleep before you come. 

Hearthstone nodded blankly, still looking at the flames. I awkwardly patted him on the back, then left, taking the notepad with me. With one last look behind me, I saw Hearthstone sitting by the fire, lost in thought. 

I fell heavily into the sleeping bag. In the dark, the visions burned brighter, searing the violent images into my memory. I shuddered and rolled over. Watching the brunnmigi kill Andiron had already been horrific. But it also provided unwanted answers to the last moments of my father's life. Did he try to run away? Did he shout my name? What were his last words? Did Fenris Wolf rip him apart in the same way the brunnmigi killed Andiron? I rolled over again, trying to leave those questions on the other side of the pillow, but to no avail. Soon, I was crying. I wiped my face and hoped Hearthstone would not be coming in anytime soon. 

Dad's dead, said my brain. 

I know, I know.

My heart ached for my father, for Andiron, for all the unjust deaths in these Nine Worlds.

Eventually, exhaustion pushed away everything. I fell into a fitful land between wake and sleep. 

Utgard-Loki moved with Junior's walker. The golden apple was a purple grenade. I watched the brunnmigi transform into a snarling Fenris Wolf, who turned to face my dad, his face twisted with fear, the green cloak still perfectly intact...

In the middle of the night, I momentarily surfaced from a pool of troubling dreams to Hearthstone zipping himself into the sleeping bag. Even half-asleep, I was thankful that he came in and out of the snow.

Good, I thought drowsily to myself. 

As I drifted off, slowly slipping into that unconscious realm of sleep, I thought I felt Hearthstone's forehead lean lightly against my cheek.