Page 13 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)

Warrior Wolves of the úlfhéenar

Elfi was chatting with her grandmother Oda, Jarl Rikard , Varg, and Bjarke at the high table in the Great Hall of Chateau Blanc, enjoying the náttmál night meal of roast boar, grilled fish, pottage, and fresh vegetables, when a servant ushered in six massive Vikings dressed in wolfskin cloaks of various colors over their glistening chain mail armor. Among them, Elfi spotted a giant blond warrior in an impressive grey pelt, flanked by an even taller Viking in an astonishing black wolfskin with glowing amber eyes, and a bulky brute with red hair and long red beard, clad in wolf fur of the same vivid color. Behind the trio was a shorter, slighter warrior in a wolfskin cloak of blended colors, a stocky man in a dark brown pelt with a pronounced limp, and a towering Viking clad in white wolfskin that made Elfi’s heart flutter.

Her betrothed, Njord ívarrsson.

Wolf of the Nordic Seas.

His riveting gaze found hers, inundating Elfi with waves of anticipation.

The wolf warriors of the úlfhéenar. As fierce in battle as the bearskin clad berserkers. Legends say they are capable of shifting into lupine form to kill the Dark Elves of the Dokkálfar. And Njord is one of them!

As a stunned silence swept across the Great Hall at the astonishing sight of the unexpected guests, Bjarke—the First Knight of étretat who, despite his injury, was still her father’s second in command— arose from the table and strode across the vast chamber to greet them. Count Sk?rde, Varg, and Jarl Rikard, the regal Duke of Normandy, quickly joined him.

As Elfi watched in breathless wonder, her pulse pounding in her parched throat, Sif rushed up to refill her goblet of mead and whispered in her ear. “The warrior in the brown wolfskin is Bodo—the stonecutter that I told you about. The one called Bodo le Bo?teux because of his maimed foot. He’s the man I danced with—and kissed—at the Welcoming Feast. Elfi, he’s one of the úlfhéenar, like Jarl Njord!”

Oda leaned forward to speak to Elfi as well, her wrinkled cheeks crinkling into a gleeful grin. “With a half dozen úlfhéenar warriors among our Viking army, , étretat—and the entire coast of the Pays de Caux —will be even better defended against the Count of Soissons. And the Frankish King Lothaire.” Eyes twinkling in the candlelight, she reached across the table and squeezed Elfi’s hand. “Here they come to meet you, Heiress of étretat.”

While thralls scrambled to make room at the high table to accommodate the honored guests, Elfi arose, legs trembling, as Bjarke and Varg led a beaming Jarl Rikard, a grinning Count Sk?rde, and the beastly úlfhéenar to her side.

“Lady Elfi, I am delighted to inform you that we have six úlfhéenar warriors among our Viking army. Your betrothed would like to present them to you as the future chatelaine of Chateau Blanc and Countess of étretat.” Jarl Rikard gestured for Njord to come forward and introduce the elite band of wolf warriors.

Njord took Elfi’s hand, brought it to his bearded lips, and bent reverently to kiss it. “My lady, I am honored to present the members of the úlfhéenar warriors of étretat.” Rising to his full towering height, he indicated the even taller blond brute in the grey wolfskin. “This is úlf, our leader. And Njáll, his second.” While úlf bowed before her, Njord gestured to the Viking wearing the black wolfskin with glowing golden eyes. He was undoubtedly the tallest man Elfi had ever seen. Njord then introduced Hrólf Redbeard, Flóki, and Bodo, each of whom bowed before her as their leader had done.

úlf’s deep voice reverberated across the room. “We will defend you, Lady Elfi of étretat, as well as le Chateau Blanc , the Pays de Caux , and the entire dukedom of Normandy. As Viking warriors with inimitable skill. And as wolves, should we encounter the Dark Elves of the Dokkálfar.”

Senses reeling in the presence of the otherworldly úlfhéenar , Elfi’s pulse hammered in her throat. She smoothed the sides of her dress and inhaled deeply to regain her composure. “We are most fortunate to have you defend étretat,” she stammered, her voice quavering. “Please, join us at the high table for the náttmál and a tribute in your honor.” She gestured to the available seating and waited for servants to escort the úlfhéenar to the high table.

Njord took his place beside her, while Jarl Rikard, Count Sk?rde, Bjarke, and Varg returned to their respective seats.

Still standing, Elfi raised her goblet of mead, prompting others to do the same. “To the úlfhéenar warriors of étretat. Odin be praised they have joined our Viking army!”

Amid hearty cheers of “ Skál!”, Elfi grinned at Njord and the astonishing úlfhéenar , breathlessly seating herself beside her future husband.

Njord grinned and helped her settle onto the elaborately carved wooden bench. “You will be a fine Countess of étretat,” he murmured softly in her ear, leaning over to brush his lips against hers. “I cannot wait to make you mine.”

While Elfi struggled not to swoon out of her seat, servants arrived with trenchers of salted boar dripping with honey, grilled salmon, and roasted vegetables with fine herbs to serve the new arrivals.

The úlfhéenar attacked their heaping plates with loud, appreciative enthusiasm.

“After we’ve eaten, I’d like to walk along the shore with you in the moonlight. I have so much to tell you about what happened today.” Njord leaned back, withdrew a parcel wrapped in leather from a scabbard at his waist, and opened it on the table before Elfi.

“These are from the same white wolf as the fur of my cloak,” he said, pointing to two large bones that were each several inches long. “They will be used to craft Light Elven weapons for your defense. And this,” he said, withdrawing a loop-shaped iron amulet suspended from a black leather cord, “is a trollkors talisman , which you must wear at all times. I had planned to give it to you tomorrow when we trained in the sacred grove, but I’d rather give it to you now. It will protect you from Dark Elves and shapeshifting trolls.” He took hold of the ends of the leather cord and leaned forward, as if to place it around her throat. “May I?”

Elfi nodded, lifting her long hair so that he could tie the amulet behind her neck. She smoothed her locks over her shoulders when he’d finished, running her fingers over the intricately carved Nordic runes and the trio of lapis lazuli gems, which she recognized, for they were the same stones as those in the necklace Njord had given her as a bridal gift. Palpable power thrummed beneath her touch.

“I’ll tell you about my visit today with the volva when we walk on the beach. She’s the one who imbued the trollkors with galdr magic to protect you. Be sure you keep it on, even when you sleep.” He dove into his meal, humming with approval. “This is delicious.”

Elfi smiled and sipped her mead, admiring the spiral curves at the ends of the looped amulet around her neck. The etched runes were a deep red, sending a shiver up her arms as she touched them. “Is this blood?” she asked, with a morbid blend of horror and fascination.

Njord washed down a mouthful of salted boar with a gulp of mead, wiping his dark beard with the back of a swarthy hand. “ Já. It’s mine. The blood of the wolf to protect you.” His deep blue eyes washed her in waves of longing.

I can’t wait until we walk together in the moonlight. I yearn to be alone with him. I want him to kiss me like he did when we danced by the fire .

When the náttmál meal was finally over, thralls cleared away empty trenchers and arranged the eating benches against the walls, setting up beds for the warriors who slept in the Great Hall.

The úlfhéenar shook hands with Jarl Rikard, Count Sk?rde, Bjarke, and Varg, bowing before Oda and Elfi as they said goodnight. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Elfi.” úlf kissed her hand and turned toward Njord. “See you in the morning. Tomorrow night—we train again as wolves.” The tall blond clad in the great grey wolf cloak led the úlfhéenar toward the enormous wooden exit door.

Elfi noticed that Bodo lingered behind, his eyes following Sif, who quickly finished her nightly chores and approached the high table to whisper again in Elfi’s ear. “I’m going to walk with Bodo, if that’s alright? I’ll be back later to dress you for bed. He’ll see me to the castle door.”

Elfi nodded and whispered back, “Of course it’s alright. Enjoy your time together. I’m going to walk along the shore with Njord. There’s no need for you to rush back. I can certainly undress myself and unbraid my own hair.”

Delight danced in Sif’s dark eyes. “Thank you, Elfi. I’ll tell you all about it when I come home.” With a soft squeal of utter joy, Sif turned away and rushed to Bodo’s awaiting side.

Njord chuckled deeply. “Looks like those two are smitten with each other. Bodo mentioned earlier how eager he was to get back to the castle and see your pretty thrall.” He rose from the table and grinned down at Elfi. “Would you like to walk along the beach now? The moon is full, and the light dances on the sea.”

Elfi’s heart soared at the thought of being alone with him. Near the sea that had brought them together and linked their souls. “I would love that.” She smiled up at him as she stood, turning to speak softly to her grandmother. “Njord and I are going for a walk along the shore. He’ll bring me back to the castle in a little while.”

Oda’s knowing eyes gleamed in the candlelight. “Don’t be too late. Bjarke and Jarl Rikard will want the castle secured for the night.” She clucked like a mother hen as Elfi bent down to kiss her crinkled cheek. Oda smiled up at Njord as Vilde approached, ready to help prepare the aging chatelaine for bed. “Take good care of my granddaughter, and bring her back soon. Goodnight, Jarl Njord.” Oda allowed Vilde to lead her from the Great Hall toward the stairwell in the foyer.

And Njord escorted Elfi out the castle door.

****

Moonlight glimmered on the gentle waves of the Narrow Sea as Njord held Elfi’s hand and guided her down the beaten path from the grassy plateau at the top of the cliff where the castle was perched to the pebbled shore far below.

Under a splendid starlit sky, with the lulling rhythm of lapping waves and the salty scent of the sea, Elfi hooked her arm through his, and they strolled along the secluded beach.

He told her about his childhood in Norway. About the white wolf in the woods near the cabin. How the otherworldly voice had told him to wear the wolfskin in battle and to keep the lupine bones to make weapons for his future mate. Njord shared the Norwegian volva ’s vision that his fate and his mate—the siren with the sea goddess eyes—would lead him to distant shores across the Nordic Seas. He told her of the prophecy—that he was destined to wield a Dwarven sword—and how the volva úlvhild had encouraged him to find Bodo, the crippled stonecutter who held the knowledge which he sought.

“Bodo knew my father,” Njord said, pushing the head of the wolfskin cloak back to reveal his thick mane of long, dark, braided locks. “Brokk was the leader of the úlfhéenar tribe in Norway. He and Bodo, along with the wolf warriors you met in the Great Hall tonight, were sent by King Harald Bluetooth to the Faroe Islands, where my father was gravely wounded in battle. Bodo and Njáll—the extremely tall úlfhéeinn in the black wolfskin—set sail for ísland, to bring my father to a gifted Ljósálfar healer. But Brokk died aboard ship during the voyage.” Njord kicked a pebble with his booted foot, sighed loudly, and gazed out at the starlit sea. “Bobo and Njáll intend to bring me to ísland, to reclaim my father’s Dwarven sword.” He stopped walking and turned to Elfi, incredulity blazing across his awestruck face. “From the Ljósálfar who is guarding it for me. My mother, the Light Elven healer íssla.”

Chills shivered through Elfi’s body. His mother was one of the Ljósálfar? Yet, she remembered what Njord had said at the welcoming feast—that he was the son of a fisherman’s daughter from Norway. And that she had died when he was just a babe. “But… wasn’t your mother named Hlíf?”

“That’s what I had always been told. But Bodo explained that the Dokkálfar —the Dark Elves who had mortally wounded my father— were desperate to seize his Dwarven sword. They would track, hunt, and kill me, to prevent fulfillment of the prophesy. So my mother íssla cloaked me with Light Elven magic, shielding me from the Dokkálfar. And she cast a spell on a fisherman’s daughter in Norway, so that Hlíf would believe I was hers and raise me as her own. Only Bodo and Njáll knew the truth. That I was Brokk’s son, destined to wield his Dwarven sword, úlfsongr. They are taking me to ísland soon, so that I may reclaim it from my Ljósálfar mother and fulfill the prophecy. But I still don’t know what that entails or what I am supposed to do with the sword once I have reclaimed it.”

A salty breeze gusted a strand of Njord’s dark hair, entangling it in his long beard. “Your mother will know.” Elfi brushed the lock away, gazing up into his tormented eyes. She swallowed a sudden lump of sorrow. She didn’t want him to sail across the Nordic Seas. What if he didn’t return? “When do you sail for ísland?”

Njord caught her hand, opened it, and kissed the inside of her palm. A surge of desire shot up Elfi’s arm and weakened her knees. “Not until after your father returns safely to le Chateau Blanc . Because you must sail with us, too. Although Bodo doesn’t know how or why you are involved, he did say that íssla told him your presence is essential for me to fulfill the prophecy.”

While her head spun at this startling revelation, Njord pulled Elfi into his strong, sinewy arms. “I think you and I should visit úlvhild together. Perhaps she can cast her runes… or foresee your future in a seier vision. We could go into the village tomorrow morning. Then come back to the castle for our training session in the sacred grove.”

Elfi’s mouth went dry as adrenaline spiked in her veins. “That’s an excellent idea. After the visit, when we return to the castle, I’ll slip up to my room to don my armor and grab my shield. And the bow and quiver of arrows you gave me. I’ll come down the hidden stairwell and meet you at the bottom of the castle keep—so no one sees me with weapons.”

Her heart pounded furiously against her ribs. Tomorrow, the volva would foresee her future. Elfi would train with Njord in the sacred grove. Soon, she would sail with him across the Nordic Seas to the distant land of ice known as ísland. And help him fulfill the prophecy to reclaim his father’s Dwarven sword!

Wrapped in Njord’s fierce embrace, the wolfskin cloak encircling them both, Elfi nuzzled the dark hair at the base of his throat. She deeply inhaled his alluring scent, her essence inexorably entwined with his. My betrothed. My mentor. My mate. We belong together. I feel it in the very depths of my soul.

He swooped down to plant warm, soft lips upon hers, parting them with a possessive, probing tongue.

She moaned into his mouth and melted in his arms. Waves of liquid warmth flooded her, engulfing her in irresistible desire.

He stepped back, shook his dark mane like a stallion, and blew a forceful breath through his bearded lips. With a regretful smile, he said softly, “Come, I’ll take you back to the castle. It’s getting late.”

Taking her hand, he led Elfi across the pebbled beach, back to the path leading up to the grassy meadow at the top of the cliff. He walked her through the fragrant wildflowers, to the enormous oak entrance door where two castle guards nodded in acknowledgment upon recognizing Njord.

The pair stepped back to grant them privacy, yet still kept watch under the starry night sky.

“I train with the knights first thing in the morning, so I’ll meet you in the castle foyer after our drills.” He pulled Elfi close, crossed his arms behind the small of her back, and kissed the top of her head. The wolfskin fur bristled against her skin, raising tingles at the touch. “You and I will ride into town to see úlvhild. Then come back here to practice in the sacred grove.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her goodnight. “See you tomorrow, elska minn . Sleep well. And dream of me, as I will of you.”

When Njord turned away, Elfi watched him stride across the castle courtyard toward the longhouse which Jarl Rikard had converted into a royal hall for Njord and his men. Her heart fluttered wildly with eager anticipation of tomorrow’s events. She slipped inside the castle, where a smiling Sif appeared to escort her up the stairs.

Inside Elfi’s private chambers, as Sif unbraided her mistress’ hair, the young thrall who was like a sister—for Sif’s mother Vilde had been Elfi’s wet nurse—voiced her barely contained enthusiasm. “Bodo kissed me again tonight,” Sif whispered with breathless excitement. “Oh, Elfi, I can’t wait for the wedding celebration this Frigg’s Day! He promised to sit at a table where I will be serving mead… And dance with me—as best he can with his injured foot.” She wrapped a slender arm around Elfi’s shoulder and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “He told me tonight that he’s raided and traded in distant lands, and that he would give me as much silver as I needed to purchase my freedom. That is, of course, if your father Lord Thorfinn agrees.” Sif crossed her hands over the bodice of her gown and swirled in utter delight. “I hope Bodo asks for my hand!”

Elfi stood and hugged Sif close. “I’m sure he will. Just think—one of these Frigg’s Days, the wedding celebration will include your own.”

“I pray that Freyja will make it so.” Sif helped Elfi into a soft cotton shift for sleeping, tucked her into bed, and blew out the candle. “Goodnight, Elfi. Now you and I can dream about our wolves.”

As Elfi gazed out her window at the full moon, she relived Njord’s passionate embrace. And—as he had bidden— dreamt of the Wolf of the Nordic Seas.