Bragi: Poetry, Music, Eloquence, Performance Arts (lingobard) wrote in deities_dot_com, @ 2012-07-21 14:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~bragi, ~idun |
When Night Is Almost Done (Tag: Idun)
Bragi could find his way home with his eyes closed if he needed to. He only had to follow the faint smell of apples. It was very late by the time that Bragi made it to the orchard and started walking along the path through the line of trees towards their hall. When Hermod had summoned him for the family meeting, Bragi hadn't called Idun to let her know that he would be home afterward. Partly because Bragi liked the idea of surprising her, but mostly because he wasn't sure he'd want to linger in Asgard after the meeting ended. He'd suspected bad news. Bad news and the lollygagging old memories that varnished an eternal unchanging setting were never a good combination. Not one Bragi liked to subject his wife to if he could help it. But the news had turned out too big for Bragi to help it.
He walked a soft leaf covered dirt path, but in his head, Bragi climbed sand dunes to get to their hall. His feet kept sinking. He took his time. By the time he reached the door, Bragi knew Idun would probably be sleeping. His hand closed around the cold metal in his pocket, but after a seconds hesitation, Bragi dropped the key back into it. Now that he was so close it seemed silly to put up with the unnecessary distance that navigating the hall would create. Instead he stepped away from the door, and climbed the tree they'd planted near the wall. From the tree, he jumped to the wall itself. The places where the stones jutted were worn where Bragi had scaled them before. He climbed up the wall to the balcony, and entered through the wide open window.
The light from the window shined on Idun asleep in the bed. Curmudgeon's sprawled form took up the whole other side of the bed, and part of Idun's. One of the snow leopard's paws lay draped over her. Bragi smiled, and stood still for a moment. The weight of the meeting still weighed on him, but it wasn't quite so bad as before. Bragi liked their hall. He liked their orchard. But settings didn't really have staying power for him. Other poets often talked of the warm feeling that returning home provided. Bragi didn't know that he'd ever found a place that he felt that way about. He didn't know that there was a place that could ever draw that sort of reaction from him. No matter how many hours he spent in the orchard, it didn't feel like home. No matter how many rooms in their hall he filled, it didn't feel like home. But he did know this feeling that the other poets wrote about very well anyway. He felt it when he saw Idun. The hall and the orchard didn't feel like home. But Idun did.
Bragi tiptoed around them, careful not to disturb Mudgey's slumber. He placed the seashell he'd found for her on top of her nightstand, and then sat on the ground alongside the bed. He took Idun's hand that dangled over the side and gently kissed her fingers. It got a bit darker still, but Bragi didn't mind. He could find his way home with his eyes closed if he needed to. He only had to follow the faint smell of apples.