The Journey to Find Mimir

Chapter Twenty-Five: Walking Through Jotunheim is Easy! I Can't Believe--

Dad's dead. 

I woke up with a groan. I shoved the grief somewhere deep inside my heart before opening my eyes.

Birds chirped outside the tent. I was alone in the sleeping bag. 

I got dressed and went outside. Hearthstone was squatted over the fire, making some sort of stew for breakfast. 

Good morning, he signed. He gave me a small smile.

I looked for any hint that he had slept poorly -- bags under his eyes, rumpled clothes, bleary eyes -- but he looked well-rested. With a start, I realized that I felt the same way. I had woken up freezing the first morning in Jotunheim and now I felt fine. Maybe sharing body heat was keeping us from freezing over.

What are you cooking? I signed. 

Hearthstone gave me a skeptical look.

You always forget your food words, Hearthstone signed. 

I pretended to be shocked, even though we both knew this was 100% true. 

"Try me!"

He pointed at the pot of oatmeal. Very slowly he signed: This is food. 

I pretended to look smug. I understand perfectly! 

Hearthstone rolled his eyes. 

Hearthstone had made just enough oatmeal for me. I tried to offer him some, but he told me he had already eaten. I nodded, but I felt uneasy. I had barely seen Hearthstone eat all trip. Something told me he was lying to me. But why not eat? I took a bite of oatmeal and pushed away the thoughts. Maybe elves eat less than dwarves.  

Snow sparkled in the morning light. Birds sang in the branches. The river sounded down the hill a way. Neither of us mentioned the sleeping bag situation.  I was happy to have a normal, pleasant morning after the awkwardness of last night. We packed up camp, falling into an easy rhythm as we condensed all of our items into the two backpacks, then began our trek along the river. 

It was another quiet day. We kept the Vimur River on our right as we walked but stayed near the tree line; this would make it easier for us to hide in an emergency, and less likely for us to be spotted. The valley slopes were white with snow and thick with trees. Occasionally, we would see one of those giant houses that looked both close and far away, and we would pick up the pace. Hearthstone and I walked side-by-side for most of the day. His walking was still loud, but it didn't feel as dangerous. There didn't seem to be a single soul for hundreds of miles.

As the sun began to head towards the horizon, I realized the two of us had covered a lot of ground. I smiled to myself. We would be at Mimir's place and out of Jotunheim in no time.

This is easy, I thought. 

I was about to ask Hearthstone if he wanted to set up camp soon when he grabbed my wrist. His finger pointed deep into the forest. 

A campfire shimmered brightly in the distance. Two figures were sitting next to the flames. Hearthstone's hand tightened around my wrist. 

I was about to sign, let's not go there, but something made me stop. 

A wave of warmth washed over me, defrosting all traces of Jotunheimen chill. It was the feeling of completing a sewing project or learning a tricky crochet stitch. It was sitting with Náinn and my dad throughout the night until mossglow began to softly twinkle. I imagined myself walking into Bilì's Best and sitting with my dad at the front counter, laughing and listening to Taylor Swift.  I turned to Hearthstone. All of the tension in his shoulders was gone. Even the tense muscles in his cheeks looked relaxed. His eyelids drooped slightly. He caught me looking at him.