The Journey to Find Mimir

Chapter Thirty-Five: And for a Moment, I Forgot to be This New Version of Myself

The next morning, I awoke early. Snow fell in flake outside the window. The fire was out, leaving the hearth cold and empty. I sat up on the couch and stretched.

"Good morning."

I turned to see Brokkr. He was sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas. A dark green blanket wrapped around his shoulders. In front of him was a cup of coffee. His eyes were downcast, but I smiled at him anyway. 

"Good morning," I said, feeling thankful. It still shocked me to see him sitting there. All of those years worrying about him being gone, and Brokkr was out in the world being happy. It made me feel light. 

Brokkr's expression was almost neutral. But even after a decade apart, I could read the look on his face. Something was wrong. 

Brokkr swallowed. "We need to talk," he said.

Nerves took over. 

"I'm not going to ask Hearthstone," I said hurriedly. "The two of us are going to Mimir. You can't stop us--"

"Blitzen--"

"Hearthstone needs to learn magic. There is no way that he can learn it on his own--"

"It's not about--"

"I mean, the guy fell out of the sky! Almost hopped in a Eddaborg dumpster to get his runestones back. He's not going to let some giants stop him from--"

"Blitzen," Brokkr said, this time a bit louder. "I'm not trying to stop you from seeing Mimir. I want to talk about Bilì."

All arguments died on my lips. His words petrified me. I fell inside of myself.

Dad. When was the last time I had thought of him? I had been so happy to see Brokkr, so worried about Hearthstone, so busy on this quest, that he had been out of my mind these last few days. 

For a fraction of a second, a tiny part of me was relieved. I was no longer haunted by the thought of his death every morning. But that speck of brief relief shook and screamed, rolling and expanding into that familiar weight of guilt and loss. How could I forget my dad? Shouldn't his absence always haunt me? Is the love I have for him already disappearing? 

"Blitzen!" Brokkr's voice was quiet and urgent. I hadn't noticed him standing in front of me. I stared at his now empty seat; the green blanket draped over the back of his chair. I realized now the coffee was untouched. He had been waiting for me to wake. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I looked him in the eye. To my shock, tears dripped down his cheeks. 

"How did you know?" My voice was barely there. 

"The paper," he replied softly. 

Somehow, the obviousness of the answer startled me. My brain let out a sharp, fast laugh. Embarrassed, I turned away, my eyes staring without seeing.

"Of course," I said. 

A new thought appeared. My heart hurt, but I had to ask. 

"The Journal... I can't remember... Was it one of the papers... One of the ones that--"

"No," said Brokkr firmly. "Eitri Junior came with the bribe. Angela turned him away. We cancelled his subscription. Banned him from the property."

The headlines returned to me, sending me back to the time after the dwarven patrol arrived at my front step. How long ago was that? I was beginning to feel dizzy. Brokkr reached out and grabbed my arms.

"Okay," I said. "Good. The Journal sent him away. Good."

"Blitzen," Brokkr said. "I am so, so sorry. Bilì didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve that. And the papers... And Nabbi's bar..."

"You know about that?" I asked. 

The shouts of the patrons filled my ears. I could see purple again. I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted it all to stop. 

Brokkr winced.

"A work friend was at the bar that night," he said in a rush. "But that's not important. The most important thing is that you are okay."

Again, I couldn't speak. My breath was gone. My heart pounded in my ears.

"I..."

But that was all. I could not put to words that black and molten pit of grief, the one behind my ribs. All the love I had for my dad could only be summarized by the word "love" -- his loss could only be represented by the word "hurt". And this is hardly the way we are meant to speak. 

Brokkr pulled me into a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around me. 

"I have to see Mimir," I said into his shoulder. "Please. Don't stop me."

"I won't," Brokkr said. 

The coffee was cold. The blanket untouched. The hearth empty. 

The two of us stood there in the stillness of it all. 

But his arms were warm, steadfast, heavy and secure around my shoulders. 

We stood there nine years.

Like the World Tree, we grew roots.