The Journey to Find Mimir

Chapter Forty: A Sligᚺt of ᚺand

I groaned. Through the fog of sleep, I tried to figure out why my body was so achy, and why my legs couldn't stretch. I opened my eyes. My heart jumped.

The net.

Hearthstone and I were still trapped, swaying slightly in the morning breeze. I made the mistake of looking down. I groaned, feeling dizzy. We were so far from the ground. I forced myself to keep my eyes on things directly in front of me. Like my knees. My hands. The backpacks. Hearthstone. 

The elf was fast asleep. The peaceful expression on his face made him almost unrecognizable. He looked different. Younger, maybe. Less stressed, for sure. His head rested lightly on my arm, and I tried my best not to move.

Slowly, I began to take in the rest of the surroundings. The sun was back, hanging in the sky like a white egg on a bright blue towel. Brokkr had told me the sky was blue, but I figured it would be a darker, more natural shade of the color. Sunlight sliced through a variety of holes in the foliage, hitting the ground in long, dangerous beams. I began to sweat. One particularly thick beam was getting close to us. 

I turned to Hearthstone. I hated to wake him, but panic made me tap his shoulder repeatedly. He blinked at me, disoriented. 

The sun. Can we switch places? I signed.

Hearthstone sleepily nodded.

Do you have a plan? I asked once we had settled. Any runestones that would work?

Hearthstone shook his head. Gone was that peaceful look he wore in sleep -- he was worried. I regretted not letting him sleep for a little while longer. But how was I supposed to know how fast the Midgard sun moved? What if a sunbeam jumped over here and onto me?

I can't think of anything besides... Hearthstone made a sign that looked like a violent explosion.

Not that, I agreed. I looked out at the trees, trying to think of something. 

The branches rustled in quiet whispers. A gentle wind continued to sway us. It really was a pleasant place to be trapped.

The weather is nice, I tried. Too bad it is so cramped.

Good thing you are so small, Hearthstone signed.

I laughed. No one had ever called me small before. 

I am one of the biggest dwarves in Nidavellir! I signed back, which made Hearthstone grin.

Hearthstone put on an air of seriousness. Then he began a long series of signs that clearly meant things like tiny, small, miniscule, puny, and microscopic.

My mouth dropped open.

Rude! I signed, which only made him smile bigger.

It's not my fault elves are huge, I signed. Hearthstone shrugged.

Actually, in my family, I am the smallest.

I guffawed.

You're lying.

Hearthstone eyes flicked away from mine. He shrugged again, smiling softly.

Nope. I am very small. I was always the shortest elf my age. Father was not pleased.

I remembered Hearthstone's father, Alderman Alderman, and scowled. I was about to make a cutting comment when I heard it. My heart began to pound.

Voices. And not human. Their words echoed throughout the forest, shaking the leaves on the trees. The sound of giants.