The Journey to Find Mimir

Chapter Forty-Three: An Apple a Day Keeps the Giant at Bay

My mind raced as Utgard-Loki guided us through a series of twisting halls. What had Hearthstone been trying to say about my needle? There was nothing wrong with it. I had just been nervous. My hand must have been shaking under the pressure. Failing the challenge had been all my fault; there was no one to blame but me. 

We were led past the game of mead pong (there were more ping pong balls on the ground), then ushered outside to a beautiful outdoor garden. The place was gorgeous. Despite the patches of snow on the ground, I could see that it was truly summer in Jotunheim. A collection of brightly colored flowers bloomed through the snow. I didn't recognize any of the plants, but I was mesmerized by their colors: a pale green bush covered in delicate lavender blossoms, vines bursting with strange pink fruits the size of cars, collections of blooms with petals dipped in indigo, periwinkle, and evergreen. I could have stopped and stared at the plants forever, but Utgard-Loki kept us moving. Hearthstone seemed unphased by the magnificent garden. His shoulders were still tight; his eyes were still squinted. 

Utgard-Loki brought us to a flat part of the garden, near the edge of his property. Off to the left was a little stone well, with a wooden roof over it. In the distance we could see the Jotunheimen trees. 

With a wave of his hand, Utgard-Loki transformed the flat snowy ground into a single lane of ice. It was much shorter than a Nidavellir skee-ball alley. In fact, it was barely five feet long. Where the board with skee-ball holes usually sat, materialized a single, giant wooden bucket. I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't familiar with Hearthstone's level of skee-ball skills, but I was confident that even I could successfully complete this task. 

Hearthstone, son of Alderman, signed Utgard-Loki. Your goal is to roll the ball down the lane and into the bucket. Good luck. 

A black skee-ball materialized out of the air. It landed at Hearthstone's feet with a heavy thud. But Hearthstone did not bend down to pick it up. His eyes were trained over at the well. He walked over and picked up something I hadn't noticed: one of the giant ping-pong balls from inside.

I turned to Utgard-Loki and laughed. Your friends are not very good at mead pong.  

But the giant's weathered face was frozen. Only his eyes moved, following Hearthstone as he brought the big ping-pong ball back to us. 

Can I use this for the skee-ball game? Hearthstone asked. 

Utgard-Loki unfroze, but his eyes were still fixed on the ping-pong ball. It was much bigger than the ones from inside; it was about the size of a grapefruit.

Of course, he signed somewhat stiffly. It looks... like a great choice for skee-ball.

I thought the plastic ball looked quite the opposite of what you'd want for a skee-ball game, but I didn't speak up. Hearthstone signed again, looking directly at the giant. 

May I keep this if I win the game of skee-ball?

Utgard-Loki's eye twitched. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. But soon he was smiling again. 

Of course. You may keep it if you win. 

Hearthstone gave him a little nod and turned towards the skee-ball set up. That green vein had popped out in his head again. I was growing worried. How was he going to roll that giant plastic ball all the way to the bucket? 

Utgard-Loki rolled his eyes and signed, any day now! But Hearthstone was in a different world, his face twisted with concentration. 

Finally, Hearthstone's expression changed. I watched a flurry of emotions dance across his face: widened eyes for surprise, a little upturn of the corners of his mouth, the straightening of his shoulders.