Page 31 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
álfheim
With Ylva at her side, Elfi followed Luna through the darkened portal of the waterfall cave, emerging into what seemed like billowy clouds bathed in twilight. Lugh and Njord transported a senseless úlf on the straw pallet as the three healers led them across a radiant arc composed of countless clear crystals which glittered like stars and emitted a light golden glow.
They ascended, as if climbing into the clouds, arriving at a lush landscape of luminescent forests with towering trees whose foliage ranged in verdant hues from frosted sage to deep emerald green. High cliffs of pearlized rock sheltered a brilliant blue sea, with cascading waterfalls, glimmering lakes, and crystalline springs. Beneath a pale turquoise sky, the clean scent of pine mingled with the sweet floral fragrance of white flowers blooming amidst soft meadows and clear flowing streams. In the distance, tall spires of translucent stone and luminous crystal, intricately woven with dark green vines and snowy blossoms, revealed the clifftop dwellings where the Ljósálfar resided.
“Set him down here.” Luna led them to a thick, grassy area on the bank of a shimmering lake, fed by a swift flowing stream from a freshwater spring. Nearby, at the base of a forested ledge, a soft white sandy beach bordered the sparkling sea. “This is the perfect spot,” she beamed, as Njord and Lugh placed the pallet on the ground. “On the shore of the Elandrian Sea, near Lyrian Lake and the ísilwenn spring.”
Ylva removed a silver flask from her leather satchel. “I’ll fill this in the freshwater spring. To wield Divona’s healing magic.” She crossed the grassy meadow, raised the hem of her blue linen gown in one hand, and dipped the container into the bubbling fountain with the other.
Luna fetched a clear crystal vial from the green silk pouch at her waist. “I shall wield the Ljósálfar magic of nen glir with the waters of Lyrian Lake.” She strode to the edge of the lake and bent to fill the vessel.
Elfi withdrew the pewter goblet she had tucked into her satchel. “I’ll go down to the sea and fill this chalice,” she informed Lugh and Njord.
Njord strode over to her side and took her hand. “I’ll come with you.” He guided her down the grassy embankment and watched as she filled the chalice with salt water from the Elandrian Sea.
They climbed back up to the grassy bank of the lake where úlf was lying motionless on the straw pallet. As the three healers knelt around him, Lugh and Njord helped them ease the woolen tunic from úlf’s inert body, Elfi noted how the black serpentine swirls which coiled up his wounded arm now spread across his chest and around his throat, like a python constricting its prey. His grey skin was clammy and cold, his labored breathing shallow and ragged. The fetid stench of death emanated from the rotting, putrid flesh.
Luna’s soft voice soothed like a limpid stream. “Ylva, cleanse his wound with the healing waters of Divona’s sacred spring.”
Murmuring an invocation in the ancient dialect of Druids from her native Bretagne, Ylva poured fresh water from the silver flask, wielding the healing magic of Divona, Celtic Goddess of Sacred Springs.
“Elfi, use your sjósongr power to wash away impurities with the song of the sea.” Luna’s otherworldly gaze exuded a radiant glow.
As Elfi bathed úlf’s arm with Elven waters from the Elandrian Sea, she summoned its curative essence from the depths of her mermaid soul .
“And with the Light Elven magic of nen glir, I shall dispel the Dokkálfar darkness from úlf’s stricken body with the purity of Ljósálfar light.” Like a waterfall from álfheim , Luna’s ethereal melody flowed over the festered wound with the cleansing fluid from the crystal vial.
Ylva’s mellow tone was a melodious harp, in harmony with Elfi’s flutelike notes and the vibrant vielle of Luna’s voice. With three songs of water, in an interwoven trio of magic, the trinity of Ljósálfar healers cleansed the evil from úlf.
The sinister swirls slowly receded, retracted like claws of a dying beast. As the putrid yellow ooze disappeared, the fiery flesh faded to a pale pink. úlf’s color returned to normal, the grey tinge of his sickened skin warming to a healthy glow. While Elfi watched in wonder, the jagged edges of the gruesome gash fused together until no trace of the wound remained. úlf’s breathing became deeper and clearer, no longer the rattling wheeze. His lashes fluttered, and he opened his eyes, disoriented as he scanned the unfamiliar surroundings and the concerned faces hovering above him. But when his confused gaze fixed on Njord, recognition sparked, and a wolfish grin stretched across his blond, bearded face. “Njord,” he croaked. “Where am I?”
“In álfheim . Where this trinity of Ljósálfar healers cured you.” Njord gestured to the three beaming women who encircled the straw pallet.
While Elfi wiped úlf’s sweaty brow, and Ylva carefully swabbed his healing arm, Luna dashed to the freshwater spring and filled the silver flask. She returned and knelt at his side, gently lifting his head and placing the vial to his parched lips. “Drink a few swallows, but slowly.”
He sipped the healing waters of álfheim, then laid back down on the straw pallet, stretching his long, sinewy limbs.
Lugh withdrew the ominous dagger from the snakeskin sheath and showed it to úlf. “áki’s blade was crafted by a Dokkálfar . And imbued by a volva with malevolent magic. It took three Ljósálfar healers to cure you. Luna, Ylva, and Elfi.” He walked a few steps away from úlf and cautiously laid the scabbard and the dagger down in the grass. Lugh turned to the trio of women. “Just as you healed úlf, wield your trinity of Ljósálfar magic to cleanse this weapon and sheath.”
While Elfi dashed down to the beach and refilled her goblet, Ylva replenished her flask with water from the spring, and Luna dipped her crystal vial into the lake. The three healers returned to the clearing and formed a circle around the Dark Elven blade. One by one, they poured the purifying waters of álfheim onto the Dokkálfar dagger and scabbard, their fluid song and trinity of magic dispelling the darkness with Ljósálfar light.
Tendrils of black shadows curled from the black obsidian gems, hissing like serpents as a fetid smoke fouled the pristine air. A low, rumbling crack—like a deep groan of shifting earth or the shattering of solid stone—ended in an eerie thud that dissipated with the fumes.
“I shall reforge this weapon,” Lugh proclaimed as he dried and sheathed the purified blade. “Replace the gems and the snakeskin leather. Add layers of Ljósálfar steel, inscribed with Elven scrolls and Nordic runes.” He grinned at úlf. “The blade that nearly took your life will become a weapon that you can wear like a badge of honor. And wield to destroy the Dokkálfar.”
“Come, everyone. Our cottage is not far. Lugh and I live on a cliff overlooking the Elandrian Sea. You will be our welcome guests. And stay with us until úlf has fully recovered.” She capped her crystal vial with a dazzling, clear quartz stone that sparkled in the golden sunlight. Securing it back in her green silk pouch, she flashed a radiant smile and beckoned them to follow.
Lugh strapped the snakeskin scabbard on his hip and bent to lift úlf’s pallet. Pale blond brows raised, he asked Njord, “Ready?”
Njord nodded, lifted the end of the bed, and carried his lupine brother with Lugh, behind Ylva, Elfi, and Luna.
They walked up a grassy slope, across a meadow strewn with fragrant white flowers, to a clifftop dwelling perched above a sheltered inlet of the Elandrian Sea. The luminous cottage was made from opalescent rock that glowed like the trio of moonstones in Luna’s necklace. Beneath a peaked silver metal roof, the frosted ash front door was intricately carved with Elven scrolls which shimmered with reflected light. On either side of the pearlescent door, dark green ivy embedded with white roses climbed up a trellis of clear crystals and iced ivory wood. Behind the cottage, a pair of white swans floated on a small lake where ripples from the sea breeze danced in golden light.
“Your home is beautiful!” Elfi gazed at the magnificent ocean view, the soft white sand at the base of the cliff, and the understated elegance of the sublime yet simple dwelling.
“Come inside,” Luna crooned, leading them through the entrance with a welcoming smile, “and make yourselves comfortable.”
The interior of the cottage was open and inviting, with a large oval table, made from the same pale wood as the front door, surrounded by six matching carved chairs, tufted in dark green silk. In an adjacent airy room, a bouquet of plump white roses, nestled amidst glossy verdant leaves, sat atop a small table, centered between two frosted ash benches with carved backs and covered seats of tufted dark green silk. The entire rear wall was made of clear glass, offering a spectacular view of the sparkling lake and elegant swans. Beside the front entrance door, an enormous arched window overlooked the Elandrian Sea.
Stunned speechless by the exquisite beauty of the Ljósálfar cottage, Elfi stood, mouth agape, absorbing the incredible view, while Njord and Lugh brought úlf’s pallet inside.
“Transfer him to the spare bedroom opposite yours,” Luna said to Lugh. “I’ll serve everyone a chalice of Ljósálfar wine.” She beamed at her guests. “And fresh fruit from our plentiful trees.”
Lugh and Njord disappeared down a long corridor where two frosted ash, carved wooden doors led to bedchambers on either side, entering the last room on the left. At the far end of the narrow hall, golden rays from the afternoon sun streamed through a tall window, reflecting off the iridescent doors like glistening gems or glittering stars.
Luna seated Elfi and Ylva at the oval table, fetching goblets of spun silver engraved with Elven scrolls from a pale wooden cupboard. As she filled them with a golden liquid from a sparkling crystal vessel, Njord and Lugh returned from the hall.
“He’s asleep. He’ll most likely be out for a few hours. Perhaps he’ll awaken for nátmál .” Lugh gestured to an available chair for Njord, waiting until he was seated before joining his guests.
Luna placed a chalice of wine before everyone at the table, a radiant smile illuminating her joyful face. “Praise the gods our trinity of Ljósálfar magic healed him.” She raised her silver goblet in tribute. “Skál!”
As everyone drank in tribute, thankful for úlf’s recovery, Lugh commented on the extraordinary wine. “Made from the sunlit grapes of álfheim. The nectar of the gods .” His deep, hearty laugh was mellow and rich . “ Indeed, Freyr himself prefers it to golden mead.”
Elfi lifted the goblet to her lips again, inhaling the heady aroma. As the velvety liquid lingered on her tongue, she savored the earthy, fruity flavor. Silky, lush, and slightly sweet, it tasted like liquid sunshine.
Luna placed a small white cloth, a silver bowl, and spoon in front of each person seated at the table. In the center, she set sparkling crystal containers of golden apples, cherries, and pears, with a silver spoon for serving. Passing the bowl of sliced pears to Elfi, the apples to Njord, and the cherries to Ylva, she said with a warm smile, “Please, help yourselves.”
After they’d eaten and enjoyed the wine, Lugh arose from his seat. “You must excuse me. I have a task I must accomplish — a surprise for úlf.” He flashed a mischievous grin. “I’ll return soon. In the meantime,” he said to Njord, “you and Elfi might like to stroll along the beach. Perhaps even go for a swim.” He ducked his chin in farewell and disappeared out the door.
“That is a wonderful idea. I would love to explore a bit.” Elfi turned toward Luna “Would that be all right? ”
“Of course. Ylva and I have a lot of catching up to do. You two enjoy your walk.” A gracious smile spread across Luna’s lovely face.
Njord escorted Elfi outdoors, when the fragrance of roses mingled with the salty scent of the sea. “Let’s go down to the shore. There’s a path over there.” He led her across the meadow and down a trail which led from the elevated ledge of the cliff near the cottage to the white sandy beach a hundred feet below.
Graceful white birds soared amidst wispy clouds in the pale blue sky. The mild sun kissed Elfi’s cheeks and glimmered on the white capped waves. She inhaled the fresh saline breeze, sublimely content to be with Njord.
Elation warred with concern in his wary gaze, and hesitation deepened his husky voice. “I am delighted that you are with child.” He pulled her into his arms and brushed soft lips upon hers. “But I fear for your safety as well as the babe’s. úlvhild has foreseen a battle in ísland. Mayhap you should remain in étretat.”
Elfi gazed up into his deep blue eyes, immersed in their impassioned depths. Although waves of love and lust washed over her, anger and irritation spiked her tone. “I am a Viking shieldmaiden, skilled with dagger, bow, and sword.” She patted the dragonscale sheath where úlfblad was strapped at her hip. “I have a white wolf dagger, capable of killing Dokkálfar or troll.” She gestured to the iron amulet hanging around her neck. “A trollkors talisman to warn me of their approach. And an úlftiri,” she said, indicating the white wolf bone whistle tucked in the leather pouch at her waist, “to summon both úlfhéenar and wolves . I can wield all of these weapons for defense or attack. But I can also unleash my sjóv?ttir magic, which you have yet to see.”
They stood on the white sand near the water’s edge, at the base of the cliff below Lugh and Luna’s cottage. In the distance, the opalescent rock of the stone bluff curved away from the sheltered inlet, out to the open ocean.
From the depths of her mermaid soul, Elfi summoned the strength of the sea. As she had learned on the ?le de Sein , she drew forth her inherited power to form an enormous pitching wave, pulling it up from the ocean bottom to curl forty feet above the sea. Hurling the aquatic force like her úlfblad dagger, she threw her arms forward, launching the mammoth wave toward the craggy cliff. As it crashed against the solid rock, the impact shook the shoreline beneath their feet, sending a spray of seafoam high into the billowy clouds.
Exhilarated as sjóv?ttir power thrummed through her veins like the immense wave she had just unleashed, Elfi faced Njord, triumphant and proud. “With le Chant des Sirènes , I can summon the Mélusines— the giant sea dragon warriors of the Gallizenae .” She touched the enchanted gems at the base of her throat. “And with this necklace, I can invoke the destructive fury of the sea. By calling forth my immortal grandmother, the Sea Goddess Rán.” She grasped his hands, squeezing them as if to convey the importance of her words. “I shall sail with you to ísland. To wield the white wolf weapons and my sjósongr magic. So that you may fulfill your destiny.” She fervently kissed his hands, tears welling in her eyes as she gazed up at him, willing him to understand. “Please do not treat me as my father has. Do not diminish my worth as a warrior because I am a woman. Believe in my ability and trust my judgement. I promise that I will protect our babe. And help you fulfill the prophecy.”
Ferocity blazed like blue fire in his steely gaze. “I do not doubt your ability. Nor do I question your judgement.” He furrowed his dark brows. “But we have both seen the deadly damage of a Dokkálfar blade with úlf’s wound. It took three Ljósálfar healers to cure him. Here in álfheim .” He gazed down at her, stricken with anguish. “If that should happen to you, there is no portal in ísland. You would die on the ship, just as my father did. Elfi, I could not bear losing you and our babe.” He clutched her fiercely against his chest, wrapping her in a possessive, protective embrace. Njord frantically kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair with trembling hands. “I’ll cancel the voyage. Stay at the castle with you. I cannot endanger your life, nor the life of our child, for the sake of fulfilling a prophecy. You are all that matters, Elfi. I shall not go.”
She withdrew from his embrace and stared up into his beloved, bearded face. “Fate has entwined our paths, Njord. We are meant to do this together.” Elfi stepped back, pacing along the sand, searching for the words to convince him. “This Persian necklace you bought for your future mate,” she caressed the jewels around her throat. “ The siren with the sea goddess eyes.” She smiled up at him, pouring all the love in her heart into her imploring gaze. “The volva in Norway predicted that your fate and your mate lay across a distant sea. The sacred white wolf told you that his bones would be needed to protect your future mate. You met Bodo, who told you about your father, your úlfhéenar blood, and the prophesied Dwarven sword.” She grasped his hands again, clutching them tight. “You and I were even drawn to mate in the waterfall cave, for me to conceive this child. So that I would have Ljósálfar blood, for the trinity of healers to cure úlf. Don’t you see? Everything has lead us to this point. The white wolf weapons…my sjóv?ttir magic…your innate shapeshifting power. We are destined to destroy the Dark Elf who killed your father and my brother. We will avenge their deaths. By slaying the Dokkálfar Blacksmith of Dorestad .” She raised onto the tips of her booted toes and kissed his bearded lips. “And by marrying in ísland, we shall foil the bloody Count of Soissons. We’ll return triumphant to étretat, where I shall honor my sacred vow. And bury Galadir beside my brother in his haumr of the sacred grove.”
Njotd wrapped his arms behind her back, pride illuminating his somber face. “You are right. The Norns have woven the threads of our fate, and we must fulfill the prophecy together. We’ll reclaim the Dwarven sword…destroy the Dokkálfar and the troll… meet my Ljósálfar mother. And marry in ísland!” He swept Elfi off her feet, spinning her around and bellowing with laughter. When he placed her down on the soft white sand, he lowered his lips to hers. “You, elska minn, are not only skilled with weapons and endowed with magic. You are blessed with the wisdom of Odin.”
Elfi’s heart soared like the wings of Freyja’s swans.
She scanned the shoreline, noting how the sand sloped and the rocky cliff curved on this side of the beach. Taking a few steps away from Njord, she peered down to the bottom of the incline, where the rounded cliff sheltered a private which reminded her of the Mermaid Cove. An idea bloomed, and she dashed back across the beach and took hold of Njord’s calloused hand. “Come with me…there is something I want to show you.”
Delight dancing in his dark blue eyes, he followed her down the sandy slope.