Page 27 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
Return to étretat
Elfi withdrew Dag’s flute from her leather satchel and played the lyrical notes that would summon Lugh. Soon, a radiant glow illuminated the dark tunnel, and the towering, silvery blond Ljósálfar emerged into the cave portal where she now stood. A gildir starstone glimmered in the ornate silver brooch which fastened his dark green cloak upon a wide shoulder. Incandescent and pearlescent, Lugh’s dazzling smile was as brilliant as his bright emerald eyes. As Elfi had experienced when she encountered the Gallizenae mermaids on the ?le de Sein , her sjóv?ttir spirit stirred in his otherworldly presence.
Overcome with exuberant joy, she wanted to fling her arms around his corded neck and kiss his luminescent cheek. Unsure of how he would respond to such an amiable attack, she restrained herself and gripped his enormous hands instead. “I can shift into a mermaid!” She nearly squealed with enthusiastic delight. “And hurl giant waves to sink enemy ships.” Her breath came in ragged gasps. “I can call forth the sea dragon Mélusines with le Chant des Sirènes . Or summon my grandmother, the Sea Goddess Rán!”
Lugh raised her trembling hands to his smooth lips, his searing kiss spreading warmth like sunlight up her quivering limbs. “You exude magic from your very essence, Elfi. I sensed it the moment I entered the cave.”
“The Gallizenae awakened it. They took me—as a mermaid-- into the sea of a secluded cove. A tremendous wave washed over me, like the surf that crashes against the white chalk cliffs. From that moment on, sjóv?ttir magic thrummed in my veins.” Elfi touched the glittering gems at the base of her throat. “I learned this necklace once belonged to Rán. She had given it to her lover, a Persian king, so that he could present it to his daughter. When the king and princess both died of a plague, the necklace ended up in a Byzantine market, where Njord purchased it for me. He said he knew immediately that it was meant for his mate. The siren with the sea goddess eyes . And here I am—a shapeshifting mermaid, with my mother’s sjóv?ttir eyes. The Norns have woven the threads of fate to join my future with Njord’s. He and I both inherited the shapeshifting magic of our parents, which we will wield together in ísland.”
Lugh released Elfi’s hands and eyed the úlfblad dagger strapped across her hips. “You will also wield that wolf bone blade. To kill the troll I saw in my Elven Mirror.”
Dread shuddered through Elfi’s shaking body. She wondered if the troll would follow them to ísland. Or attack her in étretat. Perhaps the Count of Soissons had ordered the troll to abduct her, since his capture of her faeir had failed. Thank the gods—and úlvhild— I have my trollkors talisman…
Lugh’s mellifluous voice interrupted Elfi’s disquieting thoughts. “Come, let’s return to the castle. Oda and Njord have planned an elaborate feast to welcome you home.” He offered Elfi the crook of his elbow, and she linked her arm through his. She couldn’t wait to be alone with Njord. To hug her amma, Sif, Vilde, and úlvhild. She was anxious to tell them about the Gallizenae. And how she now wielded the power of the sea .
****
Fragrant églantine roses, dried lavender, and mauve blossoms of wild thyme were tucked into deep green ivy garlands woven with pine-scented juniper branches and dark purple berries. Secured to hooks in the wooden beams and rafters of the expansive Great Hall, the festive floral decorations draped the stone walls and windows of le Chateau Blanc . A blazing fire flickered in the massive stone hearth, and sweet-smelling rushes with rosemary, mint, and sage covered the bare earthen floor. Dark green linen covered the trestle tables where sumptuous platters of roast pheasant, stuffed with mushrooms and fresh herbs, complimented vegetable pies filled with leeks, onions, and garlic, topped with flaky crusts and melted Norman cheese.
Elfi savored the rich sauce of the roasted fowl, the delightful flavors of garlic, rosemary, and thyme lingering on her appreciative tongue. She sampled the sweet, crisp cider made from ripe apples of the recent fall harvest, swallowing a spoonful of frumenty pottage composed of barley and salted pork, sweetened with honey. While castle attendants served the dessert course — wild plum tartes aux mirabelles, hazelnut pastries topped with cinnamon, and pears poached in white wine, ginger, and cloves—Elfi shared her fascinating voyage to the ?le de Sein.
She told them how she could shift into a mermaid with shimmery scales and green hair who could breathe underwater. How she’d learned to hurl giant waves to sink enemy ships and had summoned the sea dragon Mélusines with le Chant des Sirènes . Elfi shared how the necklace which Njord had bought for her as a bridal gift had once belonged to the Sea Goddess Rán, the immortal grandmother she’d met in an astonishing underwater cave whose granite walls were embedded with crystalline quartz and shiny ribbons of silver. She explained how Rán had enchanted the gems in her necklace, so Elfi could summon the wrath of the goddess with the sjósongr song of the sea.
A while later, as Oda chatted with úlvhild, and guests in the Great Hall finished the sumptuous feast, servants cleared the tables, and musicians began playing lively notes on lyres, lutes, vielles, and flutes. Elfi seized the chance to speak privately to Njord. “We must leave for ísland before my father returns.”
He spluttered his mead and spun toward her in astonishment. “Why? I thought you wanted to be here to welcome him home. And have the burial tribute for Dag.”
Elfi’s heart hammered in her chest. “My faeir is against women warriors. He forbade me from training with a sword. If he discovers that I have Ljósálfar weapons and that I inherited my mother’s sjóv?ttir magic—something she always kept hidden from him—he might very well lock me in the tower again. Like he did the last time the Count of Soissons attacked.”
“He’ll be furious if he comes home to Chateau Blanc, only to find you gone. He might forbid our marriage when we return from ísland. Perhaps even marry you to a Norman noble as punishment for betraying him.” Anguish blazed like blue fire in Njord’s desperate gaze.
“Not if you and I are already married.” Elfi flashed him a sly, seductive grin. “The Gallizenae foresaw that you and I must have a Ljósálfar wedding in ísland.”
Njord stared at her, mouth agape, with a blend of utter disbelief and unabashed delight.
“We’ll have Oda and Bjarke tell him that we needed to set sail right away, before the seas became too icy for travel. That you had to claim your father’s sword in order to fulfill the prophecy. And that úlvhild foresaw another Frankish attack by the Count of Soissons — to force a marriage with me.” She brushed a dark brown lock away from Njord’s beloved, bearded face. “But Amma will also explain to him how úlvhild’s vision revealed that if you and I were already married, we could foil the Count of Soissons and save étretat. So that’s why I went to ísland with you.” Elfi leaned forward and kissed his soft, irresistible lips. “We’ll bring a pagan goei with us, so our Ljósálfar wedding will also be a Viking ceremony, blessed by the Nordic gods.” Spirit soaring, she whispered with breathless excitement. “In ísland, I’ll wield the white wolf weapons. My sjósongr magic. And my sword, Shadowbane. And when I return to Normandy as your wife , I’ll no longer be my father’s property, something to lock in a tower. I’ll be free to fight at your side to defend étretat. As Shieldmaiden of Chateau Blanc.”
Njord beamed at her, pride aglow in his pensive gaze. He took a long pull of mead, staring at the jubilant crowd dancing in the Great Hall. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he drained his goblet and nodded, as if he’d arrived at a conclusion. “We’ll take a trio of ships— Drakkúlfr, Hrafnvarg, and Skollrok r . I’ll have each crew load the cargo, check the hulls and riggings. The úlfhéenar will sail with us. We’ll depart for ísland in three days.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “You’ll meet íssla, my Ljósálfar mother. I’ll reclaim my father’s sword and fulfill the prophecy. We’ll have a beautiful Ljósálfar wedding. And—gods willing—return to étretat to welcome your father, honor your brother, and celebrate our marriage during the Nordic Yule.”
Heart soaring, hand clutched in Njord’s, Elfi beamed as she scanned the festive Great Hall, absorbing the revelry to welcome her home. When her gaze rested on Bodo dancing with Sif, she remarked again how his limp was totally gone, his maimed foot no longer hindering him in the least. As she swayed to the music, blissfully content to be back home and reunited with Njord, she was delighted to see Bjarke dancing with the pretty daughter of a widow who had lost her husband in the recent attack on étretat. Perhaps he, like many of Njord’s Danish warriors from Ribe, would soon marry in a mass Viking wedding on Frigg’s Day.
Oda, escorted by Vilde as she headed to bed, came over to say goodnight. “I am glad you are safely home, elska .” She brushed soft lips against Elfi’s cheek and smiled at Njord, who had risen to his feet to greet Oda and kiss her gnarled hand. “Tomorrow, we’ll prepare to welcome Sk?rde, Ylva, and their daughter, Vivi, who should arrive in the next day or two. Perhaps with their son Skjold and the vitki , Haldor Falk..” She grinned at úlvhild, seated at Elfi’s side. “I know someone who would be overjoyed to see the Falcon of the Faroe Islands .”
The volva —without the ominous blue woad paint and black runes streaked across her striking face—actually blushed as she stifled a laugh and concealed a smile.
“Goodnight, Amma .” Elfi stood, kissed Oda’s crinkled cheek, and hugged her tight. “See you in the morning.” She sat back down beside Njord, watching Vilde guide her aging grandmother across the rush-strewn floor of the Great Hall and out into the vestibule which led to the stairwell and the bedchambers on the second floor.
“I’m going home now, too.” úlvhild rose from the table. “Don’t get up,” she said, placing a hand on Elfi’s shoulder. “I’ll join the others who are headed back to the village.” With a jut of her chin, she indicated the procession of celebrants preparing to depart with an escort of castle knights. “Tomorrow, come to my cottage after dagmál and I shall cast the runes. And seek a seidr vision for the upcoming voyage to ísland.” Her golden eyes glowed in the flickering flames of the tapered beeswax candles centered upon the trestle table.
“And I shall tell you more about the Gallizenae . And their vision of the prophecy.” Elfi embraced úlvhild as the volva bent to say goodbye and joined the group gathering near the exit. When they left the Great Hall, Elfi asked Njord if he wanted to go the volva’s hut with her tomorrow.
“ Nei , I’ll need to help prepare our ships for the voyage, since we are leaving so soon. You go to visit úlvhild—with an escort of armed castle guards.” He kissed her hand and rose to his feet, as if to lead her toward the dance floor, just as Sif and Bodo rushed up to join them.
“It’s so good to have you home, Elfi.” Sif gave her an affectionate hug.
Bodo took hold of Elfi’s hand, bent at the waist, and placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. He clasped Njord’s forearms, his expression conveying that he knew how glad his lupine brother was to be reunited with his betrothed.
Sif spoke quietly to Elfi. “I’ll escort you upstairs, prepare you for bed, and tuck you in. But, with your permission…I’d like to slip back down here and go with Bodo to his cottage. He’ll escort me back through the tunnel in the morning. I’ll knock three times on the door at dawn, so you will know it’s me and unlock the hidden door to let me in. Would that be all right?” Sif held her breath, wide eyes imploring as she searched Elfi’s face.
“Of course it’s all right.” She spun toward Njord, thrilled at the unexpected opportunity to spend the night with him. “You and Bodo—leave through the front exit, but come back into the castle through the tunnel from the sacred grove. Sif and I will go up to my room, so everyone sees me retire for the evening, exhausted from my trip to the ?le de Sein .” She smirked, flashing a conspiratorial grin at Sif, and continued speaking to Njord. “We’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs. Sif and Bodo can go home to his cottage…” She rose on tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “And I’ll sneak you up to my room.” Elfi kissed him, as if saying goodnight, squeezed Bodo’s swarthy hand, and watched with Sif as the two men exited the Great Hall.
Sif led Elfi up the stairs, the dutiful servant guiding her mistress to bed.
Elfi’s legs shook, weak with desire as she imagined a naked Njord in her bed. She hooked her arm through Sif’s, pulling her close. “I am so glad that you and Bodo arranged this. I cannot wait to spend the night with Njord!”
Sif hummed. “And I can’t wait to be with Bodo. He’s such an attentive lover…” A shy smile curling the corners of her full lips, she selected a torch from the metal wall sconce in the corridor, unlocked the heavy oak door with a key at her waist, and led Elfi into the private chamber where moonlight shone through the open window and the saline breeze wafted into the darkened room. With the torch, Sif lit the candle on the bedside table, handing it to Elfi to hold while she tossed a log into the hearth and stoked the flames with a long metal poker. As the fire leapt to life, she grinned at Elfi. “Now you and Njord will be warm all night long.”
She took back the torch while Elfi lifted the embroidered tapestry on the wall, unlocking and opening the hidden door. Sif lighted the way down the stairwell, and Elfi followed, unlatching the bolt at the bottom of the castle keep. When she opened the thick oaken door, her heart fluttered at the expectant look on Njord’s beloved face, his amorous eyes shining like sapphires in the torchlight.
Sif handed Bodo the torch and turned to kiss Elfi’s cheek. “See you in the morning. Listen for three knocks.” Delight danced in her dark eyes as she smiled up at Njord. “Enjoy your time together.” When Bodo offered Sif his arm, the two lovers disappeared down the dark tunnel.
Elfi grasped Njord’s warm, calloused hand and led him up the stairs into her room. She slid the bolt behind the tapestry, crossed the pinewood floor, and locked the door to the antechamber which connected her quarters to Oda’s chambers. She rushed back, threw her arms around Njord’s neck, and melted into his welcoming embrace.
“Odin’s eye, I missed you.” He nuzzled her neck, wrapping his arms behind her waist and pulling her against his hardened body. His eager lips moved up her throat, covering her face with ardent kisses, finally claiming her mouth and penetrating with a probing, possessive tongue. As his hands skimmed over her hips and gripped her bottom, his guttural groans reverberated through her body and thrummed into her throbbing core.
Thrusting her tongue to dance with his, she savored his taste, drinking his essence as he unlaced her gown and slid it down her arms to puddle on the floor. She ran her hands across his muscled back, pulling him toward her, wanting him inside her.
While he quickly shed his clothes, Elfi removed her trollkors talisman and necklace, setting them upon the bedside table where the fragrant beeswax candle illuminated Njord’s magnificent body in a soft, golden glow. She stood nude before him, trembling with want as his feral lupine gaze devoured her with a raw, ravenous hunger.
Like a wolf, he pounced, devouring his delectable prey.
He suckled her elongated neck, greedy lips seeking her breasts, the tug and pull on her nipples making her insides clench and contract with an emptiness that she longed for him to fill. As warmth and wetness pooled between her quivering legs, he laid her down upon the feather bed, trailing kisses down her belly. With calloused fingers, parted her soft curls, moaning as he lowered his wicked, wonderful tongue to lap at her tender folds. While the tip twirled and circled her sensitive bud, he thrust two fingers inside her in a relentless rhythm until she climaxed in his mouth .
“Mmm,” he hummed, licking his moustache and slick fingers. “Nectar of the gods.” He crawled over her, positioning his knees between her quavering thighs. Njord slid his hands under her hips, tilted her up to receive him, and impaled her with a guttural groan.
She wrapped her limbs around him, kissing his taut arm and tense shoulder. Her sjóv?ttir spirit soared. reveling in his salty taste, so very much like the sea.
He arrowed into her, convulsing and shuddering, moaning with pleasure as he filled her with his seed. Njord lifted his head from the side of her neck and leaned down to softly kiss her lips. She tasted herself on his tongue.
He whispered into her open mouth. “By the gods, I missed you, Elfi. Heart, body, and soul.” Lowering himself down at her side, he pulled her into his arms and cradled her over his thundering heart.
Elfi caressed the dark hair across his virile chest, inhaling his tangy scent deep into her lungs. She longed to tell him she carried his child. Share the incredible joy. But the Gallizenae had foreseen a battle in ísland, and that Elfi’s sjósongr magic would prove essential for Njord to succeed. If he knew about the babe, he’d be distracted, concerned about her welfare, perhaps make a fatal mistake. Or he might insist that she remain at the castle for her safety, instead of making the voyage with him. She nuzzled the dark hair that she loved so much and kissed her favorite tuft at the base of his throat. “I missed you, too. I cannot wait until we are wed and can sleep in each other’s arms every night.” She snuggled against him, pulled the woolen blankets over them both, and gazed out the window at the waning moon and twinkling stars.
In three days, they would sail to ísland. She would wield her inherited magic. Summon the Mélusines. Perhaps even her goddess grandmother, Rán. Njord would meet his mother. Reclaim his father’s sword. And slay the Dokkálfar Blacksmith of Dorestad to fulfill the volva’s prophecy. Gods willing, they would prevail. Have a glorious Ljósálfar wedding. And return to étretat so she could honor her sworn vow to her brother. And bury Galadir alongside Dag in his haugr of the sacred grove.
As Njord’s limbs twitched and his breathing slowed, Elfi rested a protective hand over her lower belly, whispering a prayer for her unborn daughter. “Hail Frigg, Freyja, and Eir, goddesses of fertility, motherhood, and healing. Please protect the child in my womb. The thrice-blessed daughter of the Wolf of the Nordic Seas. May she flourish and thrive. And be born alive. Hale, healthy, and strong.” Elfi gazed up Njord, his braided beard tickling her cheek, his beloved face relaxed in peaceful sleep. “Odin, Blessed Allfather, please heed my heartfelt prayer. Defend and preserve this man that I love, the úlfhéenar wolf who carries your Volsung blood. May your divine wisdom guide his sword and grant him the strength to fulfill his destiny. May the gods of ásgard and Vanaheim assure us safe passage to ísland and a swift return to étretat. May we triumph in the victory of battle. Or bask in the glory of Valhalla.” Elfi closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, secure in Njord’s sinewy embrace.