Why not?
It was a good response, but not enough. As if aware of this, Echelon's words flowed freely and without rancor; she spoke openly about forgiveness - no, not forgiveness exactly, but stillness. To hold no grudges, to let the pain of previous experience simply be, for a time, and then drift with the winds. To no longer be plagued to them - held captive by them - seemed impossible to Njal. He listened to her explanation but found himself souring to it. Echelon reminded him in that moment of their age difference, of all the things that Njal and the Sveijarn had faced together (and apart) which now colored his view of the universe. Things that Echelon knew nothing about (and he hoped, for her sake, she never had to deal with the pain of missing children). She sounded ignorant from his own perspective. The wisdom of Tartok appeared to have missed a generation. But he held his tongue and did his best to keep an open mind, for she was here, as was Tonravik, and they were going to help him. They knew the value of family even if they did not subscribe to his style of love-bound devotion. Perhaps that was enough.
Do you fear returning to your glacier? That you may be welcomed with teeth rather than submission?
Yes, he wanted to say. To admit the weakness that ran through his veins, pumped by the man's aching heart. Yes. For he expected only sadness and grief, anger and hatred and all manner of ill-will to be thrust before him. If Tuwawi remained upon the peak - ruled it as its true queen, the solitary heart of the mountain - then he expected an army of her most devoted warriors to greet him at the door. Perhaps, and Njal turned towards the stars once more as the thought formed within his mind, perhaps even strike him down. His failures deserved nothing less than this; abandoning his family was the greatest crime he could ever commit, and he had done it quickly. Left the glacier so that Tuwawi could suffer in her own errors, alone, so alone. He would ask for forgiveness - beg for it, if need be - but Njal knew it would be no use. He knew he did not deserve it.
But all of these thoughts were held close, filling his heart with dread, but never being spoken. To Echelon he gave only silence — and that in itself was an answer. Gradually he did begin to speak again, to walk again towards the distant peak which rose like a fang in to the night. My heart - Tuwawi - my aokatti, she waits for the day of my return. But I do not expect to be greeted with open arms.
An open mouth, maybe. Njal flicked an ear back to catch anything that Echelon had to say to this, but continued to mosey. His gait was sluggish, no longer energized by the sight of the stars or his distant home - the kingdom he had forsaken. At this pace they would never make it.