Title: Fara í Víking: Fyrsta
Characters: Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Iceland, Netherlands, Finland, Estonia, Russia. Cameos by Germany, Prussia.
Pairings:Finland/Estonia, Sweden-Finland
Warnings:Alternate universe, sexual situations, violence, language.
Summary: The paths of five misfits from across the galaxy converge. Two young men searching for a home, two running away, and one wandering lost form an unlikely partnership that turns out to answer all of their prayers.
Notes: Prequel to my previous work, Fara í Víking. Reading that is not necessary to understand this, but will give a head start on understanding the world.
Non-Canon Names: Denmark – Mathias Andersen; Norway – Aleksander Nilsen; Iceland – Eiríkur Nilsen; Netherlands – Jan van den Berg
Chapter 1 - Midgard
Mathias was like him. That was what his current 'parents' said. All of his 'parents' had said that about all the other children Berwald had lived with, always encouraging him to make friends. In this case, they could not have been more wrong. Berwald and Mathias were polar opposites. Maybe that was why it worked out this time.
Berwald had never had any family to speak of, and that was fine with him. He had never cared much that he did not have a mother, father or siblings. Certainly, when he was younger he had wondered. Who were his parents? Where were they? What happened to them? The simple answer was that no one knew, and while that had been disappointing at first Berwald eventually accepted it. This life was what he was used to and all he had ever known; and there was no sense in wishing for things you could not have. After all, he had a pretty good life for a parentless child. He had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, and warm meals every night, all provided for him by the government.
He had lived many places in his fairly short life; some for as long as two years and some for as little as a few weeks. Some he liked better than others, but Berwald knew not to get attached, that was something that you learn quickly. For as long as he could remember Berwald had been shuffled around from home to home. In the beginning sometimes there were only one or two other kids that he lived with, others like him who had been stuffed into the foster system rather than end up on the street, but still no more than a number in a computer to the people who had put them there.
Of course, it probably helped him stay detached that he could barely make out the faces of his caregivers and housemates. For as long as he could remember Berwald's world had been fuzzy around the edges. For a long time he had not realized that everyone else saw things clearly. But Berwald's perception of the world was blurred, and getting worse every day his eyes fought unaided to bring the world into its proper focus. But no matter how many times Berwald bumped into tables or stubbed his toes on things left out of place none of his many caregivers had ever put the pieces together. They put it down to clumsiness. A tall, gangly, awkward boy like him was bound to be clumsy. So Berwald continued to squint at the world and nurse headaches at night.
With no friends and completely unable to see anything more than an arm's length in front of his face, Berwald interested himself in the things he could see properly. Books, small trinkets, and whatever gadgets his temporary guardians happened to leave around for him to find. With a screwdriver and a pair of tweezers Berwald took apart anything he could get his hands on, and then put it back together, often multiple times.
He was almost free from this life. Almost old enough to leave behind all his temporary caregivers and head out on his own. Although how he would manage on his own in this world, half-blind as he was, was still a mystery to the teenage boy. Berwald assumed it would always be this way. Always fending for himself, with no family or friends. No one had ever wanted to be his friend; he was tall, awkward, hard to understand through a thick accent picked up at his earliest homes and his habit of mumbling, and Berwald was downright frightening. Or at least he assumed so; the younger kids always seemed to run away from him for no reason.
Mathias was different, though.
"This is Mathias," his current 'mother' had introduced them. "He's going to be staying with us now. You two are the same age, so maybe you can be friends."
Berwald thought she must not have been paying much attention to him if she thought he could make friends with any of the other orphan children. None-the-less, he nodded and, as she left the two teens alone, turned to face the new arrival. Immediately he knew that this time it would be different. Even as only a blur in his eyes Mathias was distinguishable from the others. He was shorter than Berwald, but that was not unusual, even at fifteen Berwald towered above his peers and some adults. What made Mathias stand out in the teen's blurry world was his hair. Though it was the same yellowish blond as almost everyone else around here Mathias' hair was completely untamed. It stuck out at every angle in a way that seemed to mock the laws of physics.
"Man, you're tall," Mathias whistled in amazement as he stared up at Berwald. It did not seem to bother him that the taller boy did not speak a word, nor that Berwald favored him with his usual squinting glare, the expression his face had adopted years ago in a futile attempt to bring the world into focus. "I bet you're nearly two meters, huh? I always hoped I'd hit two meters. You think there's still hope for me?"
There was, Berwald would have admitted. Mathias was average height for their age but there was always the chance his last adolescent growth spurt would give more than a couple centimeters. Berwald did not say that, however. Mathias did not give him a chance. Instead, the other boy just continued talking. Mathias babbled inane observations and asked questions without ever giving Berwald a chance to answer. He liked the sound of his own voice, Berwald assumed, but never did anything to shut him up.
When he finally stopped long enough for Berwald to get a word in the taller boy was not even sure what to say. He could not remember half the questions that had been asked of him, and honestly had not been paying attention to a lot of Mathias' monologue. But somehow this strange introduction worked. Mathias stuck with him for the entire rest of the day and Berwald did his best to show the new arrival around their shared home.
The current home housed five children, six now that Mathias had arrived. Berwald was the oldest. The kids and their two guardians were crammed into five bedrooms, three bathrooms and one small kitchen. It was not nearly enough space for so many, but Berwald spent most of his time cooped up in his room anyway, so it made no difference to him. At least he had his own room this time. And they were in the heart of the city now, a larger house would be hard to find but there was plenty of places to escape to if Berwald felt the need. He rarely did.
"She say which room's yours?" Berwald asked after a very brief tour of their limited living space. There was not much to see even for those that could see.
"I'm rooming with you," Mathias announced happily.
Great. So much for his privacy. Berwald suspected that their current 'mother' was trying to set them up. He was doubtful it would work. Berwald fully expected his new roommate to become as bored and creeped out by him as everyone else seemed to me. If he were completely honest, though, Berwald would appreciate that she was at least putting in the effort. It was more than most of his other guardians would have bothered to do.
"S'this way," Berwald said with a sigh, and turned to lead his new roommate to his room. Maybe if he was lucky Mathias would get shuffled off to another home soon, or he would. As long as Berwald got left alone again.
Berwald's room was on the third and highest floor of their home. It was not terribly large, which was why he did not want to share it, but it had a big window with a nice view of the streets outside. Despite what Berwald thought, his room was furnished for two, with a bunk bed, two desks and one large dresser.
It was not a large room, but kids in their situation rarely had many possessions. There was plenty of space for the two of them.
Mathias waltzed right in like he owned the place, and he had just as much right to it as Berwald, but still the action annoyed him. This was his room, and he had enjoyed having it all to himself for so long. Now here was Mathias, ready to mess that all up. He was now even more certain that his 'parents' had planned this on purpose.
"Not bad," Mathias commented, "Which bunk's yours?" he asked.
"Top," Berwald answered. Until now he had been using the bottom as a sofa, but he supposed those days were over. And he would have to cram all his things into half of the dresser, which he could certainly do, but it was annoying.
"Aww," Mathias said, obviously disappointed. "I've always wanted a top bunk. Oh well," he shrugged, not easily deterred, it seemed, and went over to test out the mattress. This was done by flopping down onto it bodily and stretching out as far as he could. When he deemed it acceptable, Mathias sat up and looked at Berwald, who was still standing by the door watching him. "So how is this place?" he asked curiously. "The last home they had me in, across town, they made us do chores all day after our lessons, it was horrible. Do they do that here?"
"No," Berwald replied. He had lived with his share of slave driver foster parents, though, and he knew what that was like. "Let us do whatever as long as we finish school work."
"Great," Mathias said with a smile. "I hated doing chores. Why does the floor need to be cleaned every day if we're just going to walk all over it again?" Berwald did not bother answering because he did not think it was worth the effort, nor did he care about the motivations of some other foster parent. At least Mathias did not seem to mind his silence. "You don't talk much, do you?" the other boy asked, as though sensing Berwald's thoughts. Berwald answered simply with a shake of his head. "Huh," Mathias laughed to himself, "I guess not. Why's that? Nothing to say, or are you embarrassed of your funny accent?"
"My accent's not funny," Berwald protested, frowning. He was well aware that he had one, along with a habit of mumbling.
"Yeah it is," Mathias chuckled. "What is it, Swedish?" he guessed.
"Yeah," Berwald replied.
"How'd you pick that up?" Mathias asked. "I thought everyone these days just spoke Norse."
"Grew up with a Swedish couple," Berwald explained. "Spoke that before I spoke Norse."
"How old fashioned," Mathias said curiously. "Did you have to take classes or anything? Man, no one speaks a second language these days."
Berwald shook his head. "Just listened," he replied.
"Bet you're good at that," Mathias said, and Berwald could not tell if he was being condescending or not. He chose to take it as a compliment, because it was true. Then suddenly Mathias hopped to his feet again. "Well, guess I'll unpack."
Berwald had to move around quite a few of his own things in order to make room for Mathias'. It was annoying to have to share his space with someone else, but he supposed he would get used to it. If he could ever get used to Mathias' constant talking, that is. And he definitely talked constantly, undeterred even when Berwald completely ignored him. Berwald was used to silence, for the most part, but now he had to listen to Mathias yammer on about absolutely nothing. Even when Berwald left the room to try and get away from it, Mathias just stopped what he was doing and followed after him like a lost dog. There was no escaping Mathias' annoying voice and unending chatter.
So Berwald was very glad when that first day finally ended and they shut off the lights and climbed into bed. Mathias could not talk while he was sleeping. But Berwald was not used to sleeping in the same room as anyone; not anymore. It was probably just paranoid thinking, but Berwald could not get to sleep for fear that Mathias might do something. What, he had no idea. Just, something.
"Hey, Berwald?" Mathias asked into the darkness. Berwald thought he was asleep by now, he felt like he had been staring up at the black ceiling for ages. Berwald did not answer. Maybe he could pretend to be asleep. Maybe this was just another of Mathias' hypothetical questions just asked to prompt the Dane to talk about himself. "What happened to your parents?" Mathias asked after a long moment of silence.
Still Berwald remained silent. He had not talked about his parents in years, ever since he found out about them. Or rather found out that there was nothing to find out. He had no intention of talking about them now, either, but the words came out of his mouth of their own accord. "Don't know."
"What do you mean?" Berwald could hear the confusion in Mathias' voice.
"Don't know," Berwald repeated. "No one knows. Been in the system m' whole life."
Mathias did not reply right away. Obviously he was thinking over this answer. Berwald imagined it was just as disappointing to him as the news had been to Berwald when he found out. "I don't know what happened to mine, either," Mathias said when he finally spoke again. "I mean... I know who they were. I knew them. But they just... left."
Berwald swallowed. He had no idea what to say. He had never been able to sympathize with the other children about their lack of a family. Some had been orphans all their lives, like he had, and did not mind, but others had known and lost their families. He did not know what it felt like to have a mother or a father, and the various adults who had taken care of him throughout his life could hardly be called such. Parents were supposed to love you. None of his ever had.
"I was seven," Mathias continued. Berwald had no idea why he was telling him all this. "I went to school one day and mom never came to pick me up. I thought she just forgot, so I walked home. But no one was there. They never came home."
That must have been hard, Berwald thought, though he could not imagine the feeling itself. He had been abandoned by plenty of people in his life and it had stopped bothering him. He was not sure if it had ever bothered him. Maybe when he was a baby, but he could not remember.
"I kept waiting for them to come home, but they never did."
Why was Mathias still talking? Berwald did not understand him at all. What was the point in talking about it? What was the point in wishing for something that you could not have?
"Hey, Berwald," Mathias said again, and his voice was hesitant. "Do you think they left because of me?"
Berwald froze, his breath caught in his throat. How in Hel could he know why Mathias' parents had abandoned him? What did the other boy expect him to say? Why was he dumping all of his personal problems on Berwald? But while Berwald could not remember what it felt like to be abandoned, he knew how disappointing it was to not have answers. What had happened to his own parents? Were they dead? Had they abandoned him also? Were they out there somewhere? Did they even know he was alive?
"No," Berwald said. Again the word was out of his mouth before he could think about it.
"Thanks, Berwald," Mathias said softly into the dark, and then Berwald could hear shifting in the bunk below his. A few minutes later he heard soft snoring, signaling that Mathias had finally fallen asleep.
It was the third day of their friendship, if it could be called that, when Mathias asked what had probably been an inevitable question. "So what's up with your face?"
Tact was not something that Mathias had been blessed with. Berwald could not help being slightly offended even though he knew the other boy did not mean any harm. "What d' you mean?" Berwald asked.
"You know," Mathias said, waving his hand dismissively. He spoke as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, and as though discussing all the faults in Berwald's appearance was not rude in the slightest. "Why do you always look like you're about to murder someone?"
Was that what he looked like? Berwald honestly had no idea. He rarely looked in mirrors, or spent a lot of time preoccupied with his appearance. Even if he had, it was not as though he had much to compare it to. "I do?" he asked curiously. If it was true, then no wonder so many of the others avoided him.
"Yeah," Mathias nodded. "You never noticed?"
"No," Berwald answered honestly.
"Did you're face get stuck like that, or something?" Mathias asked. He sounded genuinely curious, which was a surprise to Berwald. For all that Mathias talked, he usually talked about himself, and he rarely showed genuine interest in other people. "My last foster kept warning one of the younger kids about that."
Berwald hoped that Mathias did not honestly believe that was possible, but he just shrugged. He was not particularly aware of what his face usually looked like or how it compared to other faces. He usually could not make out the details of other peoples' faces.
"That's why the little kids are scared of you, you know?" Mathias continued, unfazed by Berwald's silent reply. "Because you look really mean and scary. You should try smiling sometimes. Let 'em know you're friendly."
Smiling. Berwald didn't know if it would actually help. Maybe Mathias was right. He had always expected there was something about his appearance that drove other kids away. They seemed unwilling to try and make friends with him. Not that it bothered Berwald, he liked his privacy. And what if smiling just made it worse?
"Try it," Mathias encouraged, pushing forward even when Berwald did not reply. "Give us a smile," he laughed.
Mathias laughed easily. Berwald rarely saw what there was to laugh about; what was so funny. That was the reason he did not smile much. He was not depressed or angry, he just did not have anything to laugh about. For a moment, Berwald's usual frown deepened even more, and then he attempted a small, weak smile.
He could not see Mathias' reaction, but his words were not encouraging. "Aww, man, is that the best you can do? You won't be winning any girls with that face."
Immediately Berwald was frowning again. "Girls?" he asked in confusion.
"Well, yeah," Mathias said. "Don't you want to talk to girls someday?"
Not really, Berwald thought. He realized that boys his age were supposed to start being interested in that sort of thing, but he was not, and he did not see the appeal. He heard the girls in the house talking; they did not seem like anyone he wanted to spend time with. But Berwald did not want to admit that to Mathias. Surely it would make him look even stranger than usual. So he just shrugged again.
Mathias seemed surprised with this answer, if only because he did not immediately have a witty reply ready to tear Berwald down. "Oh," was all he said. "Well, so you can make friends, then. Or get a job someday, or something. You seriously never look at girls?"
Look at them? What was the use in looking at them when Berwald could barely make out their faces. "Can't see 'em anyway," he commented.
"What do you mean you can't see them?" Mathias asked in confusion.
"What I said," Berwald replied.
Mathias was silent for a long while. "Shit... Are you blind, or something?" he asked, voice hesitant.
Berwald shook his head. He could see. "No, just... my eyes're really bad."
"Seriously?" Mathias asked. "So bad you can't stare at people? Why don't you have glasses or something?"
Berwald shrugged again. He did not actually have an answer for that. Probably, if he had mentioned something, one of his parents would have taken him to get his eyes checked and bought him some proper glasses. But Berwald never said anything. He was used to living this way, and he hated to be a burden on anyone. They would complain about the hassle or the cost, and Berwald did not want to listen to that.
"Well, we'll have to do something about that, won't we?" Mathias said with determination in his voice. "Can't have my best buddy going around half blind. Think of all the things you're missing!" With that said, Mathias slung an arm around Berwald's shoulders, which forced the much taller boy to slump down slightly until he was on Mathias' level. "Come on, I have a friend you need to meet."
The only thing that Berwald and Mathias had in common other than their age was their lack of parents. Where Berwald was quiet, shy, awkward, Mathias was loud, brash, and quick to befriend almost anyone he met. Where Berwald preferred solitude, Mathias thrived as the center of attention. He was the sort of person Berwald usually avoided, but there was no avoiding Mathias. Mathias pressed friendship upon you by sheer force of will.
Mathias was like a tidal wave, and Berwald was quickly being pulled out to sea.
Mathias brought Berwald out into the city. Berwald did not like the city, it made him nervous. The streets were crowded, full of strangers and unfamiliar landmarks. It was a place Berwald usually avoided at all costs, but he was helpless as Mathias pulled him along by the arm, weaving them effortlessly through the crowd. Mathias did not bump into a single person no matter how closely he squeezed between the masses. Berwald found himself stumbling into many and getting complaints from more than a few. Berwald had lost track of their location. If Mathias abandoned him he did not think he would be able to find his way back to the house on his own, and that frightened him.
"Where're we going?" Berwald asked not for the first time as he was pulled along through the streets. The air was chill, it was late autumn. At a previous home in the countryside this season had brought with it the smell of wood fires and pine trees and early morning frost. The city smelled the same all year round, like people and smog and garbage. The only thing that changed was the temperature of the air.
"We're going to meet a friend of mine," Mathias replied, the same as he had all the other times Berwald asked. It was not a satisfactory answer, and in fact told Berwald exactly nothing.
They wound their way through streets and down alleys for several minutes more before Mathias finally came to a stop. Hoping they had reached their final destination Berwald raised his eyes from the pavement where he had been staring to keep from tripping in pot holes or over garbage. They were standing before a building as nondescript as all the rest, set apart from the ones crowded on either side only by its street number and a sign above the door that Berwald could not read. Mathias walked right up to the door, still tugging Berwald along behind him, and knocked. There was no immediate reply, but after a while there came a voice that Berwald could barely make out through the wood and above the bustle of the crowd. "Who is it and what do you want?" The voice was gruff and deep.
"It's Mathias," the teen replied. "I've come to collect on a favor."
When there was again no reply Berwald thought they would be turned away, until he heard the click of a lock and then the door opened. Standing in the threshold was a man as tall as Berwald, a surprise in itself, and surrounded by the smell of tobacco smoke. "I don't recall owing you any favors," he commented.
"You don't," Mathias admitted with a laugh. "But I need to ask one anyway."
The man sighed, "What is it?"
"This is my buddy Berwald," Mathias said, pulling Berwald up to his side and slinging an arm around his shoulders once more. Berwald was quickly becoming annoyed by this action, he hoped Mathias would hit a growth spurt soon if it was going to become a habit. "Berwald, this is Jan. If you need something, Jan can get it for you. No matter what, he can get it."
"Nice t' meet you," Berwald mumbled, but he still had no idea what they were doing here.
"Jan," Mathias continued, "Berwald needs some glasses."
"Glasses?" Jan asked skeptically. "What for?"
"To see, of course," Mathias said. "Apparently this poor sod has been going through life half-blind and the foster system doesn't even give a damn. And, well, seeing how he's the first person who's been nice to me since I got picked up, I thought I owed him one."
"Mathias performing random acts of kindness," Jan muttered. "Never thought I'd see the day. Come on in." The man stepped out of the way and Mathias quickly pulled Berwald inside. The two boys were lead through the house into a living room, where Mathias sat down on the sofa as though he owned the place. Berwald sat down beside him and looked around nervously. There was not much he could make out, though. White walls, the sofa was well worn and the coffee table might have been real wood, but Berwald doubted it. The whole place stunk of smoke. "Wait here, I've got some stuff to finish up, then we'll talk," Jan informed them, before he disappeared deeper into the house.
"How d' you know him?" Berwald asked, rather uncomfortable with this whole situation.
"Jan helped me out when I was living on the street," Mathias replied.
Berwald frowned; Mathias had never mentioned that he had lived on the street. Thankfully the other boy seemed to realize this before Berwald had a chance to try and ask the question in a tactful way. "When I figured out my parents weren't coming back I tried to find them, and I knew I would've run out of food and stuff at home anyway if they didn't come home soon. Wound up homeless, trying to steal food just to get by. Almost got caught once, that's how Jan found me, and he helped me out. I might be dead or in prison now if it weren't for him. He managed to keep me out of trouble, at least until the system found me and picked me up a couple years ago. That's how I wound up with you," Mathias chuckled and nudged Berwald, but if there was a joke somewhere in his speech Berwald did not see it.
Mathias did not seem at all bothered by this story, and Berwald found that curious. The other had obviously been upset the night before when talking about his parents, but he seemed completely fine discussion years of homelessness. Jan did not sound like he was that much older than the two of them, but Mathias spoke of him as though he was wise beyond his years. Maybe he was, Berwald had only just met the man.
A few minutes later Jan returned to the living room and took a seat in a chair on the other side of the coffee table. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag before leaning forward on his knees to stare at the two teens. "Berwald how old are you?" he asked curiously.
"Fifteen," Berwald replied. "How old 're you?"
Jan laughed. "Twenty," he replied. "You don't talk much do you?" he assessed, "But you've got some lip, I'll give you that. So how long's your eyes been bad?"
Berwald shrugged. "Long 's I can remember," he replied.
Jan gave a whistle of amazement and sat back in his seat, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Damn. And you've never had glasses? Those fosters are even worse than I thought. I swear you'd both be better off on the streets for how much they care."
Berwald frowned, disagreeing. He had a home, clothing, schooling and food. Just because they did not notice his bad eyesight did not mean they were neglectful. But he did not say anything. He did not want to start a fight.
"Well, I'll see what I can do, but no guarantees," Jan said. "How bad's your eyesight?"
"Pretty bad," Berwald replied, not knowing how else to describe it. He got around well enough, but it certainly made life difficult. He would not mind having it fixed.
Jan chuckled softly. "Well can you see far or close? Or is everything fucked?"
"Can see close," Berwald said.
"Right. Well that gives us somewhere to start, doesn't it," Jan said thoughtfully. "Doctors are expensive and I assume you have no money. You're lucky you've got me."
Jan sent them off with a promise that he would be in touch when he had anything to give them, and Mathias dragged Berwald back out of the house. Berwald still was not certain he believed this was real, or if he should hold out hope that anything would happen. How could a stranger who had never given an eye exam find glasses that could help Berwald's vision improve? He would not keep his hopes up, and as time went on even forgot about the visit to Jan's home all together.
Mathias did not forget, though. At least, he did not forget about Berwald's terrible eyesight, and he had taken to describing in great detail anything that he thought Berwald would find interesting. He would take Berwald by the wrist and lead him about the home and the streets, pointing out and describing things to him as though he could fix Berwald's eyesight by sheer force of will.
Of course, fixing Berwald's vision was not that easy, though Berwald never complained for one second when Mathias hauled him around the city. Though he would not admit it to Mathias, Berwald thought that maybe it was fun to have a friend after all. And he certainly could not call his life boring anymore.
One day when Mathias dragged Berwald out of the house against the Swede's protests that he had school work to finish, the wild-haired boy seemed far more excited than usual. "Where're we going?" Berwald asked as he was pulled down the street by the sleeve of his jacket. Winter was coming soon, they grey of the sky was not entirely from pollution and a chill wind whipped through the streets. The weather station on the radio said it would snow that week. Berwald wished Mathias had given him time to grab a scarf, but Mathias was practically running as he dragged Berwald along, dodging them between people and vehicles on the streets.
"Come on, hurry up," Mathias kept saying. "You've gotta come, this is really important," he added whenever Berwald protested against being manhandled or when they had barely missed being hit by a car or bike. So eventually Berwald shut up and let Mathias pull him through the streets until they stopped in front of a house. A house like all the other houses, crammed between two other identical buildings, but somehow Berwald felt like he should know where he was. Mathias pulled him up the steps and knocked urgently on the door until it was pulled open, and then Berwald knew why Mathias had been so excited.
Jan stared down at them from the other side of the doorframe, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and looking like the pounding on the door had just woken him up. "What is wrong with you? I'm not deaf."
"Sorry," Mathias said hurriedly, "But I got your message. You really have them?"
The tall man looked from Mathias, to Berwald, and then back again, "Yeah, I've got some that might work. Come on in."
Although Berwald had completely forgotten about Mathias' crazy plan to get him a pair of glasses, it all came flooding back as Mathias pulled him into the house and back into the same living room he remembered from the last time. The air still smelled of cigarettes and other things that Berwald would rather not know about, but he sat down without protest on the sofa and waited patiently while Jan left the room. The man returned a minute later with a small box. He handed it to Berwald without a word but Mathias snatched it out of his hands before Berwald even had a chance. "You're sure these'll work?" Mathias asked. He'd opened the box and lifted out a pair of wire rimmed glasses.
"Maybe," Jan shrugged, "Best I could do without getting the kid to see a doctor. But no one sees a doctor without records, and I figured we all wanted to avoid that."
"How did you get 'em, then?" Mathias asked.
"Know a guy at the hospital owes me a favor, stole these out of the supplies," Jan replied, flopping in a chair on the other side of the room. "They're the generics they give out to homeless people, probably the best you'd get in the system anyway. Government doesn't wanna spend money on you. Anyway, let him put them on, see if they work."
Mathias was almost more excited about this than Berwald, the Swede could not help thinking as his friend finally turned to him and held out the glasses. Berwald could hardly imagine a world where everything was clear and sharp, so he did not know enough to be excited. But when the lenses slid onto his nose Berwald had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep his head from spinning. For a moment the change made him dizzy. It was so much different from the way he had seen the world his whole life. When he finally opened his eyes again it was with wonder. Who would have thought that two simple pieces of glass could do so much? Everything came into focus.
It was startling, almost horrifying from the sheer difference. For as long as he could remember Berwald had never been able to see anything more than an arm's length away from his face. The glasses were still far from perfect, they certainly were not the correct prescription, but they made enough of a difference that Berwald was glad he was sitting down.
It was amazing. There were so many things that Berwald had never seen before. The pattern on the wallpaper, all the tiny chips and scratches in the coffee table, the proper shape of Mathias' face. Berwald turned to look out the window beside the sofa and he could see the clouds in the sky, the distant buildings, street signs and birds and the faces of people around him. When he could finally tear himself away from staring at his surroundings Berwald looked back toward Mathias and Jan. Mathias was grinning from ear to ear, hands on his knees as he leaned forward eagerly and watched Berwald take in the world around him for the first time. Berwald probably would have punched him for looking so arrogant if he were not so horribly grateful for Mathias arranging this whole thing for him.
"They work?" Jan asked, watching him curiously.
"Yeah," Berwald replied.
"Good," Jan nodded to himself and even smiled a tiny bit. "Probably ain't perfect, but long as you can see that's what matters, right? You owe me one, kid."
Berwald just nodded. He knew he should thank them both, but he could not bring himself to speak right now. And he knew that a simple 'thank you' would never be enough. It had probably been simple, if Berwald thought about it, to get glasses for him, though he preferred not to think about how they had been acquired. But for Berwald it changed his entire world.
End Notes:
Fara i Viking – An Old Norse phrase meaning "to go on an expedition". The term "viking" implies raids or piracy.
Fyrsta – Meaning "first" or "beginning" in Old Norse.
Midgard - Earth in Norse mythology, the Human world.