When I run into the cavernous room, my brother is slouched down in his ornate wooden chair, half-asleep with a glazed look on his face. His tutor is lecturing him about the tactics of some long-ago battle in his creaky old voice, seemingly oblivious to the fact that my brother is falling asleep from boredom right in front of him. I feel a little flash of annoyance—he doesn't care about anything but playing stupid games with his friends!—but I push it away and run straight up to the tutor, who abruptly stops and blinks down at me. "My mother wishes to speak with you," I tell him imperiously. His eyebrows contract skeptically and he opens his mouth. "Now!" I say commandingly. He closes his mouth, turns slowly, and shuffles towards the door. I watch his hunched back until he leaves the room, then turn to my brother, who is sitting up straight in his chair, watching me with a question on his face. "Come on," I tell him. "We're going to Jotunheim."
For several seconds, he just stares at me, slightly suspicious. Then, as the idea of adventure takes over his hesitation—his open face is always so easy to read—he grins and jumps down from the chair. He grabs the huge, blocky hammer from the floor next to him—he's obviously straining to lift the ridiculous thing, it's half his size—but since Father gave it to him a few weeks ago, he's carried it everywhere.
We've hardly left the room when someone else comes out of another hallway and turns away to walk down the hall in front of us. Her shiny black hair ripples in the evening light streaming in through the high windows. I grab my brother's arm to warn him not to call out to her—Sif is his best friend, and I'm afraid he'll want to include her in our adventure. But she's always mean to me. I can just imagine it—she'll boss both of us around incessantly, and constantly taunt and tease me, and my brother will half-heartedly reprimand her but refuse to tell her to go away. Either I'll leave, or I'll play some cruel trick to get back at her and then they'll both be mad at me. I wish, just once, he would just tell her to go away—sorry, it's just me and my brother this time—but he stubbornly thinks we can all get along. He only sees the best in people, that's his problem.
All this flashes through my mind in a second, then I grab my brother's wrist and pull him sideways into a doorway, glaring at him urgently to warn him. He looks confused, and a little annoyed, but stays quiet, to my relief.
After a minute, when Sif has disappeared down the hall, we continue. As we approach the dining hall I hear Father's voice, loud and angry. A thrill of fear flashes through me, and I freeze and hold out my arm to stop my brother. He looks at me quizzically, and a moment later, hearing the loud, jarring voice again, I realize it's not real anger—he's telling a story, narrating an angry frost giant, or a gruff Midgardian, or one of thousands of other characters he's encountered on his journeys. His voice rises to a crescendo and there's a burst of laughter and applause from his assembled friends, the story seemingly finished. Imagining this—all of them gathered in the firelight, leaning back from the table, the remains of their dinner still scattered around them, these huge, rough, bearded men telling their dramatic tales of danger and glory—makes me hesitate, standing in the shadows outside the hall. What exactly am I hoping to gain by attempting to imitate them? I will never be one of them. I am nothing like them. No, but I am better, I tell myself, I'll show them all what I am…but…no, we'll never be able to do it….My brother is watching me, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open, his blue eyes confused, surprised at my sudden hesitation and fear. I stand still, stopped cold by indecision and doubt….
Later, as we run across the palace grounds silvered by moonlight, through the gates, and towards the dark, jagged mountains on the distant horizon, the stars spread out overhead and the night air cold and sharp in my throat, I'm still wondering at what I—we—have done and what we plan to do. My brother runs easily beside me, his face excited and determined, clearly impatient for the adventures ahead. Suddenly I wonder why my brother has come with me at all, without inviting his friends, without telling our parents. He'd never just run away like this with anyone else, not even Sif…but the sneaking away probably just adds to the excitement of the adventure for him….But why would he trust me, after all the times I've tricked him, lied to him, gotten him into trouble? Well, he sees the best in everyone, even me….We run on, under the dome of clear, bright stars, through the cold, silvery night, towards Jotunheim.