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"Clouds from the mouth and rivers from the eyes."
Baldur opens his eyes and looks at the girl, who has begun to sing something strange. His head was on her thighs. She gently ran her palm through the god's hair, occasionally going over the strands. But he could not feel it.
Nothing.
"Everything you do is not in vain."
Baldur closes his eyes. He can't feel, but he can hear and imagine. Her gentle and calm singing could, for a moment, overshadow his problems and troubles.
And Baldur imagines.
He imagines, as if he could feel her stroking his hair. Like he feels the warmth of her hands as she gently and reverently runs her palm over his face. As if he can feel the soft bed of animal hair on which he lies. As if the warmth emanating from the fireplace warms his body.
And Baldur drowns in these illusions. As he drifts off to sleep, he hears quiet lines from a strange song.
"You are so beautiful when you are miserable."
"You are so beautiful when you are extinguished."
The last lines were spoken in a whisper and, Baldur realized, next to his face.
Guided by the sound, he assumed that she had kissed him.
But he could not feel it.
Baldur wanted to howl in despair.