The Journey to Find Mimir

Chapter Thirty-One: A Ghost and His Wife Give Me Special Treats

I spun through the murky darkness. Shadowed visions floated by. My father appeared, welding two pieces of metal together. Náinn was there next, handing me an envelope. Afterwards Freya fluttered by, covered in feathers, frowning in disapproval. Then there was Hearthstone, green and dying on the ground over and over again. I kept trying to run to him, but the world of blackened mist slowed my every step. 

Voices whispered in the dark. 

"You have to be certain. This can kill him if you're wrong."

"I am positive. Besides, we need him up. Maybe he can help the elf."

The elf? Did Hearthstone need me? I tried to wake. Instead, I spun into a new reality. 

I was back in Eddaborg, sitting at the kitchen table. Morning mossglow streamed through the windows. Dad stood by the stove with his back to me. His famous, chocolate chip waffles sizzled on the stove. The smell of coffee wafted by. My mouth watered. He was the only one who brewed coffee. I hadn't made a pot since he died. 

Dad turned around. He was wearing an apron I made him. In his hand was a steaming mug half full of coffee. 

Do you want ice in here? Dad asked. I know you like your coffee... cold. 

He made a face and shuddered. I laughed. It echoed.

Iced coffee is significantly better, I said. Far superior to hot coffee.

If you say so, it must be true, he replied. 

He crossed to the refrigerator and plopped in a huge chunk of ice before placing it on the kitchen table. He visibly shuddered. I grinned. 

"Sit him up. We don't want it going down the wrong pipe. Oh, I hope you're right."

"Don't worry, love. I know it's him."

Dad left to pull a chocolate chip waffle off the cooktop. I couldn't stop staring at him. He was right there. Humming Taylor Swift and wearing that old white pajama shirt, the one with the little hole in the shoulder. 

Dad caught me staring. I opened my mouth slightly, then closed it again. He raised an eyebrow, like he always did to invite conversations. 

I blurted out my question.

Where are you?

He laughed.

Why Blitzen, he replied, I'm right here with you.

Suddenly, the taste of Dad's iced coffee flooded my mouth. 

"Not too much!"

"Relax. I know what I'm doing. It's not my first time reviving someone."

The kitchen scene faded. The rest of my senses slowly returned to me. 

Soft, fuzzy blankets wrapped around my shoulders and legs. I could hear the gentle crackling of a fire, the noise much softer than the blaze at the giant's house. My eyes opened. At first, the world was a blur of blobs and colors. Then everything began to focus. 

I was propped up on a couch next to a fireplace. A worn, red rug was in front of the hearth. On the mantle were a series of knick knacks and framed photos. The walls of the place appeared to be made of wood.

In front of me were two individuals. The dwarf on the left was a tall and beautiful. Her kind eyes were dark and fringed with thick lashes. Her hair was pulled back into two braided buns. A thin scar ran across her left cheek. She wore a large winter sweater with an intricate, design on it -- a knitted outline of Jörmungandr, the World Serpent, circled her neckline, wrapped around her arms, and curled at the base of the sweater. I would have stopped to admire the design if I hadn't been so shocked by the dwarf standing next to her. My mouth dropped open.