I pantomimed thumbing the striker on a pretend Bic lighter, and a small flame sprouted at my fingertip. The tinder caught and roared to life. I shivered, shaking away the lingering cold in my blood, and went to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.
Thorin moved away from the fireplace and slumped in the corner of the couch, eyes closed, arms loose at his sides.
The cork slipped out with a satisfying thock, and I poured a glass for me and waved the bottle toward Thorin. “Want some?”
One eyelid peeled open, followed slowly by another. He struggled to focus on me.
“Wine?”
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Sure.” I turned to the coffee machine and babbled as I measured grounds and filled the carafe. “How about food? I know you don’t usually eat, but you look a little malnourished. I have soup, or I can make you a sandwich, or if you rather—”
“It’s fine,” Thorin said. “Coffee is fine.”
I started a pot brewing and, when it finished, brought a tray of coffee, wine, and a plate of cut fruit and cheese for a picnic on the living-room floor. Crossing my legs first, I lowered to the rug, putting the fire to my back and Thorin at my front. He worked to maintain lucidity, and the strain showed around his eyes. He deserved to be left alone, but I was selfish. I needed to see him alive and physically present, not in Asgard but in my world. I needed to hear his voice and relish the relief of it.
“Do you remember who I am?” I asked.
“A daughter of Sol, evidently.” Thorin shook his head. “But no. Nothing recent. Not yet.”
“Do you remember why you were up on that mountain?”
“Baldur told me it was because I was rescuing you from my brother.”
Guilt weighted my heart, and it thudded heavily. If I hadn’t gone looking for that stupid sword… If I hadn’t taken Val along with me… If I hadn’t… If I hadn’t…
“You remember Grim?”
“I don’t remember fighting him recently, but we’ve rarely agreed. It doesn’t surprise me.”
“He wanted Mjölnir.”
“That also doesn’t surprise me. Baldur also told me Grim wanted to kill you.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“Helen Locke is trying to reinvent Ragnarok. Grim thought your death would prevent that.”
“And you have no idea what happened to Grim or Surtalogi?”
Thorin’s chin dropped to his chest. “Nothing.”
I put my hand on his knee. He raised his eyes to meet mine.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It must be a horrible feeling.”
Thorin made no indication either way. He stared back at me, unblinking. I reached behind my neck and unfastened Mjölnir’s chain. Thorin’s eyes lit the moment I brought the weapon free from the collar of my sweater. “I’ve been keeping it for you.”
“You?” he asked, markedly curious. “How did you come to have it?”
“You gave me the lanyard a while back, said you could use it to track me.” I smiled at the memory of him finding me in the cave, his beauty, his warmth. “It’s how you found me, how you saved me from Grim.”
“But you have the hammer, too.”
“It showed up a few nights ago. I woke up to find it on the pillow beside me. Baldur said it returned to its lanyard when you lost your ability to command it.”
I held the necklace out to Thorin. He set his coffee mug on an end table, took the chain from me, and cupped the gold Mjölnir charm in his palm. He flicked his wrist, a gesture older than his memory loss, and brought the full-sized hammer to rest on his knee. “You must be someone special to me.”
Heat flooded my cheeks.
Thorin saw my reaction, and a smile spread across his face. How stunning, how dazzling was his joy. “I guessed right?”
I shook my head and turned away to bury my attention in the plate of food. “Not special. Important, maybe. You were dedicated to preventing my death. You gave me Mjölnir to hold for you after I recovered it from Helen. You said I was the only one you could trust with it, and it might be good for others to think it was still lost.”
Thorin’s brow creased as he thought about my words. “But my brother knew I had it?”
“You had to use it once, to protect us, and he said he could feel its power. I don’t understand how that works.”
“The hammer speaks to Thor’s blood kin. We all hear its voice. But why did I use it if I wanted to keep it a secret?”
“You fought Skoll with it.”
“I did?”
I told Thorin what had happened in the desert. He listened, enraptured, but nothing I said ignited his own memory of the event. His brow creased again. “If I was protecting you, how did my brother get you?”
“Long story. You sure you’re up for it? You probably need to rest.”
