So my favorite character in Magnus Chase is Hearthstone. For. Ever.

This is my take on Hearth's past in detail and I added a little bit more… something. You'll see. *evil grin* So enjoy and get some tissues incase you want to cry.

Slight abuse, heartbreak, bitter-sweetness, and you get the idea.

~Apollo'sChillax/NonChillaxDaughter

What are they doing? They're… speaking. What are they saying?

He saw his father point to him and formed a single word with his lips. It was a word he used to often, especially when he and mother spoke like that about him.

Worthless.

He knew what it meant. In fact, he knew what every horrible word his parents used to describe him meant. It felt like they learned how to sign for the sole purpose of making him feel bad.

Mother pointed a perfectly manicured finger toward him, just like Father did. Her lush red lips formed words too rapidly for him to read. Father threw his hands up, screamed, and uttered another sentence- Stupid child! – and walked away with mother screaming profanities at his back.

Fighting. That's what they did. They fought. They were angry at each other when they did so.

Every day they fought. They fought about their son, about how imperfect he is, about whose fault it is that he's imperfect. At least, that's what Little Hearth knew.

The young elf tensed. He knew with Father gone, Mother would need someone else to be… angry at.

They were both constantly angry at him. He never really knew why until just a few days ago. It was the usual- Father came home late, mother started up another fight. But this time Father was swaying, his eyes seemed unfocused, and his yells seemed louder.

Drunk.

Father stalked into the living room and started screaming at little Hearth. Screaming and screaming, yelling and yelling until his cheeks and ears were bright green. He shook little Hearth by the shoulders and screamed a word he finally knew- Understand?

Despite his father's rage, he shook his head.

Right… can't hear.

Father let go of him and he crawled into the corner, but it wasn't over. He glared at him from the middle of the room where he'd previously been close to being strangled. Hearth stared back. Father brought his hands up and started to sign, pausing in between words as if remembering how to sign the next one.

You. Not. Supposed. To live.

Brother. Saved. You. Not. Supposed to.

You are. Not. Normal. Not like. Brother.

Then he paused, hands still raised in the form of the final word. He held them there, cold blue eyes staring at his son.

And it hurt him. Those words… they hurt him, and Father knew. Father wanted to hurt him, so did Mother. Was it because he hurt them too? Yes, that was it. He hurt them, unintentionally, so they hurt him.

The words Father had signed hurt. A lot. But not as much as the truth they held. When his eyes watered and his hands shook, Father signed the last words.

You. Don't. Belong.

Hearthstone watched the other elves run past him. They yelled, they grinned, they played… and they laughed.

He may not be able to hear or speak, but he could read. He loved to read. He loved the story books in the library. He loved the fairy-tale versions of the forming of Svartsalfheim. He loved the kiddie-version guide to the World Tree and the Smiley Face drawn of the topmost branch.

And he loved what the other creatures in the books were doing- they played and ginned and jumped up and down… just like the children. And they laughed.

The books said the sound of laughter is the best sound one could ever hear. Hearth wanted to laugh. He wanted to know how to laugh. He wanted to hear someone laugh.

All these children, playing around him, laughing and laughing but he could hear nothing. He wanted to know what that feels like, to hear someone laugh.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the same as someone laughing at you. He's been laughed at too many times to count. The children at the school, his parents, his teachers… all of them laughed at how he couldn't hear. And maybe that was a good thing. He figured hurtful words hurt more when you can hear them.

Maybe being deaf wasn't so bad.

Llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

He was a teenager, finally. He thought he might wake up one of these days and find that he could hear. He'd grown up. He thought that when he'd grown up his hearing would grow with him.

But as he did, he realized it wasn't possible. He would be stuck like this forever.

But never mind that. There was another thing he was sure he could achieve: magic. Old elven magic, like in the books he's read. No, not the fairy tales he used to read as a child- actual history books of elven past.

He figured magic might cure his ears. After all, Elvish Mages used to heal blind and deaf people all the time.

He spent most of his time in the back corner of the Library, where the shelves of the oldest books surrounded a lone, long table where nobody ever went, except Hearthstone of course.

So he was surprised when a girl sat in the chair right across from him.

He recognized her from school. She was Mildew, one of the normal elves with normal parents and a normal life.

She waved. Hi!

He blinked twice, trying to make sure someone actually noticed him. That this was actually a real live elf speaking to him.

Yes, she was Mildew: earth-brown hair with shimmering strands of green and eyes the color of forest treetops in autumn.

She smiled, a genuine, kind smile. Hello, she was saying. You're Hearthstone, right?

Hearth, still unsure if she was just a figure of his imagination, simply stared, mouth agape.

Mildew gave him a quizzical look and he was afraid she might make fun of him like all the others did. It wouldn't be any different. Everyone made fun of him, so why was he so scared that she might? Was he expecting anything different? Why was he expecting anything different? He's not supposed to… right? Why should he?

When Hearth didn't react, it dawned on her- eyes widening in realization. You're the deaf kid.

Hearth winced. No one had ever called him the deaf kid before. It was usually always direct insults and nicknames. No one had ever described him so literally, until now.

He tensed and forced himself to look away and back into his book, shielding his face from view. He expected her to laugh or feel uncomfortable and simply walk away. But then a hand gripped the top of his book and brought it down gently.

And there still was Mildew, smiling with a mix of curiosity and sympathy.

You're getting good at reading lips, Mildew said. In fact, he was. He could tell what she was saying by the sole movement of her lips without having to even think twice about it. She was always encouraging him and confirming his progress, yet she spoke carefully and slowly whenever she would talk to him, though not always.

There was one time when she was so frustrated with her younger cousin and she was ranting to Hearthstone about the little midget. She spoke so fast and angrily that her cheeks burned green and Hearth didn't understand a single word she'd said. Then she realized this and blushed an even brighter green, looking exhausted and embarrassed at the same time.

Then sight was so hilarious Hearth had to smile. He smiled broadly, lips parted, and he felt his throat… well, he felt his throat vibrate, though he didn't know if that was the right term. It was only for a moment, a brief tingle at the back of his throat, a gust of breath flown out his lips at the same time.

He found Mildew staring at him with something of awe and shock.

Hearth made a face. What? He signed.

You… she started. You laughed.

The two elves watched gloomily as the moving truck pulled into the driveway. Two men hopped out and started to load up the boxes and furniture laid out in the yard.

Do you have to go? Hearth signed.

Mildew looked at him and tried to force a smile. Hearth, she said. You know you'll always be my best friend, right? I won't forget you. Ever.

Me too. He smiled back.

They were moving. Mildew's family was moving. The only friend he's ever had and now she was leaving. He would never get to see her again.

Hearth, she spoke, he read her lips. Just keep up the fight, okay? Don't let others' insults get the best of you. You'll be fine, even without me there.

How do you know? He felt like crying, though he resisted the urge. It's not every day your one and only friend goes away forever and leaves you a scar that would bleed for a lifetime.

I know, she said. For I have trained you well. Then she bowed like a master to a student. Hearth smiled and bowed too. It would be the last joke they ever shared.

But trust me, she said seriously. You'll find some friends one day, I know it. They'll be as much family to you as I was.

He looked at her doubtfully, but nodded anyway. It seemed like a long-shot, impossible even, but somewhere in her words he found truth, if only a little. Then again, maybe it was just the reaction of hearing what he wanted to believe.

Mildew smiled and spread her arms, Hearth could see her parents calling behind her. He smiled and melted into the hug.

He liked her. He maybe was too young, but he liked her. He always thought that she might have liked him back, though he knew there was nothing to gain with him. He couldn't hear, he had ambitions of magic, and his parents didn't even bother looking at him as a son.

He couldn't really place his finger on the exact feeling, but he looked at her as something… more. She was always there for him, always encouraging him. She was the only real family he's ever had. Best friend seemed to do the trick most of the time, but sometimes he would look at her and think about it more. He liked her. Was it really just that?

Maybe it was for the best she left. Whatever he felt for her… it might get worse. That would be bad.

Hey, don't give up on the magic. She reminded him, picking up her yellow suitcase. It's real and don't listen to what the others say. You'll be an awesome mage one day. She hefted up the suitcase and smoothed down her brimmed hat. You'll find your place, I promise.

Hearth wanted to contradict her with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Promise was a big word for something so impossible. Sure, he could do some nifty tricks with rune stones, but that was all there was to him, nothing more. Still, he marveled at her determination. She was rooting, hoping, and being so reassured for his future, his dreams. How could she be more determined than him for his own goals?

I'll miss you. He signed as Mildew's parents started to get into the car.

Me too. She signed back. Sometimes she would do that. She would sign a few words in the middle of the conversation for the sake of getting better at it. Sometimes she even taught him a few gestures and phrases in Alf Sign Language.

Let me teach you new word. She signed again. Hearth nodded, eager to learn another one.

Do this, she held up one hand and brought down her middle and ring fingers, making some sort of rock and roll sign. Then, she tipped it to her mouth with the thumb end.

Hearth copied her and she smiled. Meaning? He asked her.

She thought for a moment then decided to spell it out. I L-O-V-E Y-O-U.

Hearth blushed. Why would she teach him that? It's not like he'd ever need to say those words to anyone. Who in the nine worlds would love him? He was just a bump in the road, a pest in the house, a waste of space, and just another picture in Mildew's huge album.

But looking at her, he felt like he knew the answer.

She hugged him, tears in her eyes threatening to fall. Then she was in the car, looking out the window at him.

He formed his hand in the specific way and tipped his thumb down. Mildew did the same as the car drove away. It was the last he would ever see her.

"Are you sure about this, Elf?"

Hearth was mesmerized. He could hear the head's voice. Well, not really. It was echoing in his mind, meaning his useless ears weren't actually picking anything up. But still… to hear someone else's voice? It was something… new. Different. Maybe even good.

Hearth nodded. The hideous floating head in the well, creepy, yes, but he was also an extremely powerful Norse god who can open a portal to the World Tree and had all the knowledge in the nine worlds.

"I can give you more ability and potential," Said Mirmir. "So that you can unlock that gate that keeps you from doing real magic. You may learn the Norse trade secrets, the basic ones, and know how to find a World Tree portal- that comes with being in my service of course, but it would give you huge benefits, and also a huge price." His head bobbed on the surface of the well's crystal clear water. "But know that you still have to work on your own tricks and discover new spells by yourself, I'm simply taking away the barrier, making it a little easier for you."

Hearth nodded again, despite the head's warnings. He knew Mirmir's help would increase his abilities tenfold, and that would be a lot. Right now the best he could do is make a flower float and spin in the air.

Mirmir sighed. "Very well then. But the price you have to pay… would you like to hear it first before you fully pledge yourself to me?"

Hearth nodded again. He though this awfully generous for an almighty Norse god who looked like something out of a horror movie.

"You must watch… or rather, stalk a boy." Hearth looked at him quizzically. "Yes," Mirmir deadpanned. "Stalk a boy. He lives in Midgard, about fourteen years old and his mother just died."

Hearth winced.

"He will play a huge role in delaying Ragnarok, the end of the world." The head continued. "But do not speak to him of his fate or parentage until I tell you otherwise. You will befriend him and protect him from certain dangers such as Norse monsters who might want to kill him and other mortal death causes. Keep him safe, keep him alive, keep him friends with you." He paused, reading the confusion on Hearth's face. "But before you do that and before I tell you who and where he is, you must meet another person who will help you on this mission. In fact, this is both your mission. So go find him, he'll be waiting for you somewhere in Nidavellir, the home of the dwarves. His name is Blitzen."

Somewhere?! Hearth signed, a little perplexed.

Mirmir closed his eyes and clicked his tongue several times as if trying to recall something. Finally, he open his eyes with a satisfied look. "Ah!" He said. "Myrtyl Park just a block down his apartment. He'll be wearing a golden bowtie. You'll actually be entering there through the Myrtyl Park entrance, so you should find him easily."

Hearth crossed his arms, but he wasn't quite saying no.

"But be warned," the head said. " Nidavellir is an underground realm. Meaning no sunlight."

Hearth shrugged. How bad can it be? But inside, his heart was racing. He was just going to pick up one dwarf, right? It'll be fast- in and out. But then again… if he spends too much time without sunlight…

He swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. Mirmir chuckled amusedly, as if he could read Hearth's mind (and he probably could).

"You'll do good." Mirmir said. "Now just kneel down, pledge yourself, then you can dive into that pond to your right and you'll plunge down one of the World Tree's trunks and land safely in Nidavellir's very own Myrtyl Park."

Hearth weighed his options. He could still back out. He could have no involvement in this whatsoever, be satisfied with the little magic he could do, maybe refine it every once in a while, and stay safe and cozy back in Alfheim, having no price to pay for anything (except maybe his groceries).

But what was there to go back to? His only friend is gone forever, every other person hates him, and his parents threw him out the house. No, he could never go back. There was nothing there for him. At least with this mission Mirmir was offering him, he could evolve his magic, explore the other worlds and make possible friends. He could find a place with this mission… he could be somebody.

Hearth knelt.

The head smiled broadly. "Now, drink from my waters."

WHAT?!

So that would be the first part of this mini-fic. The second part will come up later. So I'm not sure this result is exactly what I intended for this idea, but it's close.

Thanks for reading! Review! ^_^

~Daughter Of Apollo