Page 8 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
Dance With Swords
Elfi waited in the sacred grove, breathlessly anticipating her sparring session with Njord. She’d brought the shield, like he’d said, and she’d worn the leather armor and woolen breeches which had once belonged to Dag. As she practiced her daily dance with the sword, Elfi envisioned her intriguing betrothed.
His outward appearance was feral and fierce, like an unpredictable predator. Massive, savage, and unshorn. Watchful, silent, and deadly. But in the gentle, possessive way he held her, his inner spirit revealed that he was also loving, loyal, and protective. The Wolf of the Nordic Seas truly embodied all the characteristics of his lupine name.
With his irresistible allure, Elfi was drawn to him in ways she couldn’t comprehend. When she gazed into his deep blue eyes, she beheld all the aura and mystery of the sea.
The cresting waves crashing against the white chalk cliffs. The inviting, enticing pools in sheltered coves and secret caves. The mists and fog, seafoam and salt spray. The dangerous depths where she could drown.
When he had kissed her, she’d been engulfed in desire. Swept into a maelstrom, like a sailor ensnared by Rán. Awash in an endless ocean of yearning. She and Njord were fated mates, their destinies entwined by the sea.
The crunch of his bootsteps alerted her to his arrival in the sacred grove. She spun around, dazzled by the glorious sight of her magnificent betrothed.
His long, thick, brown hair was pulled back and tied with a leather cord. His beard was neatly trimmed and adorned with blue beads woven into small braids — a sign of Viking strength and noble status.
He was the Danish Jarl of Ribe. He’ll soon be the Norman Count of étretat. An essential link in the Viking alliance between Denmark, Norway, and Normandy. My betrothed. Wolf of the Nordic Seas.
A delicious thrill rippled through her limbs.
She noticed that he held a finely crafted archery bow in one of his large, calloused hands and a round piece of wood in the other. His steel sword was encased in an intricately tooled scabbard at his sinewy waist. A bossed shield was strapped across his back with two wide deerskin bands, and a gleaming leather quiver with at least twenty fletched arrows was slung across his shoulder.
“Good morning, Elfi. I’m glad to see you brought your shield.” His dazzling smile took her breath away.
He unstrapped the shield from his back and laid it against the trunk of an enormous oak. Striding toward her, he took her shield from her hands and placed it on the ground beside his own. He flashed her a disarming grin which sent another chill through her core. “I have a gift for you.” Njord returned to her side and handed her the bow he’d been carrying, placing the leather quiver of arrows on the ground while still clutching the circular piece of wood. “Varg made this from the finest yew,” he said, indicating her new bow. “It has strong heartwood for the belly, and supple sapwood for the back. And it’s just the right size for you.”
As Elfi leaned toward him to accept the delightfully unexpected gift, she nearly swooned from Njord’s alluring scent. A heady blend of fresh leather, crisp pine, and the tangy brine of the sea.
She examined the finely crafted bow, running appreciative fingertips over the smooth, polished wood. Mouth agape in astonishment, she looked up at him with eyes widened in wonder. “It’s beautiful! Will you teach me how to use it? ”
“Of course. Let me attach this target.” From the pouch at his waist, he removed a hammer and nail, affixing the circular shaped piece of wood he was holding to the trunk of a solid beech tree. “I want you to learn archery as well as swordsmanship and hurling a dagger. We’ll add this to our daily training. Starting today.”
While she watched in stunned delight, he came up behind her, positioning her body so that she faced away from the target at an angle. “Stand with your feet shoulder width apart,” he said, demonstrating the proper stance.
Elfi adjusted her pose accordingly.
“Now, hold your body like this,” he murmured, guiding her torso into proper form. Her breasts tingled, aching for his touch. When he placed his hands on her hips to align them correctly, heat surged through her as she imagined him gripping them for an entirely different reason.
Njord wrapped his arms around her, showing Elfi how to nock and tightly draw back the bowstring, keeping her collarbone parallel with the arrow. In his enticing embrace, her unsteady legs weakened with desire.
“I gave you this gift for another reason, you know,” he whispered, his breath a warm caress against her cheek. “So I could hold you close. And do this.” He kissed the nape of her neck where it touched her shoulder.
A soft moan escaped her lips.
Still standing behind her, Njord helped Elfi pull the bowstring back tautly at the level of her eye, keeping her forearm parallel to the ground. “Align the tip with the target. Now, release the arrow.”
Elfi followed his instructions, but her aim was off. She missed the target completely.
“Let me show you something that will improve your accuracy.” Njord placed his large hands on either side of her torso to straighten her posture. She shivered at his touch. “Don’t lean forward. Keep your shoulder aligned with the arrow, and draw it back to anchor your cheekbone each time. That will help you develop consistency and precision.” He stepped back, inclining his head to encourage her. “Now, make those slight adjustments. And try again.”
Elfi concentrated on the proper positioning of her shoulder and upper body as she tightly drew the bowstring back to the corner of her cheek. When she released the arrow, it hit the outer edge of the target. She whirled to face Njord, whooping for joy. “I did it!”
A proud grin stretched across his bearded face. “An excellent shot. You’re a born archer.” Deep blue eyes ablaze, he handed her another arrow. “Do it again.”
She fired a dozen more shots, only missing the target twice.
“You’ve done very well. But that’s enough for a start. I don’t want you to injure your shoulder. Let’s practice hurling the dagger now. And then we’ll spar with swords.”
He unsheathed his dagger and handed it to her.
She threw the knife toward the target, applying the technique he’d shown her, successfully hitting the outer edge several times.
Njord complimented her progress and sheathed the dagger at his waist. “Superb form. I’m very impressed.”
She was exhilarated, positively glowing from his effusive praise. Unlike her faeir, her future husband wanted her to wield weapons. And wield them well.
Like the Viking shieldmaiden she’d always longed to be.
As he strode across the leafy clearing, she admired his enormous warrior body. At first, she’d been shaken by his savage appearance and terrifying aura. But now, she was inexorably drawn to him. And she longed to experience more.
Njord returned to her side, a wolfish grin stretching across his feral face. Dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of ash trees, sparkling in the brilliant blue jewels braided into his long, dark beard. He gave Elfi her shield, a current rippling up her arm as his fingers brushed against hers. “Time for our dance with swords.” Fiery challenge blazed in his fierce gaze as he slowly unsheathed his gleaming blade. “Show me your skill, Elfi of étretat. ”
With a surge of adrenaline, she thrust forward, clashing her sword against his. When he parried and lunged for a counterattack, she deftly evaded the strike, swirling into a swift downward slice that he deflected with his round wooden shield. “I shall be a shieldmaiden warrior,” she huffed, blocking and parrying his blows. “Like the legendary Valkyrie Brynhild.” Agile, graceful, and lithe as a dancer, Elfi spun and swiftly struck, disarming a stunned Njord with a glorious, gloating grin. “And I shall defend étretat with bow and arrow, dagger and sword. Thanks to you. My Wolf of the Nordic Seas .”
She crossed the distance between them, retrieved and returned his sword, which he sheathed beside the dagger at his waist. Encasing her own blade in the leather scabbard slung across her hips, she rose up on tiptoes to kiss Njord’s bristled cheek. The salty taste of his sweat scintillated her senses and stirred her soul.
Feral hunger flashed in his lupine eyes. Like a wolf, he pounced to devour her.
Njord trapped her against his magnificent body. Lowered his head to her upturned face. And possessively claimed her as his.
He traced her lips seductively with the tip of his tongue, coaxing her to open and let him in. When she parted her lips in sweet surrender. he penetrated to probe, taste, and explore.
She swam in the sea of Njord, her quivering body swept into his engulfing, encompassing embrace. They belonged together, their fates entwined, their souls linked by the sea. As he plundered her mouth, drinking her in, her essence mingled with his. A deep ache throbbed inside her. An empty hollow that only he could fill.
He abruptly released her, stepping back and shaking his head like a lathered horse. “By the gods, your taste drives me wild. I cannot wait to make you mine.” He exhaled forcefully and stared down at her with a pierce, penetrating gaze. “Soon, Elfi. Very soon.”
Njord strode away, fetched the bow, and slung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder. “I’ll leave the target here, so we can use it every day for practice.” Regret tinged his smile and a gentle tone tempered his deep, gruff voice. “I won’t be able to spar with you tomorrow. I need to go into the village.” Noting how her shoulders slumped in disappointment, he countered optimistically, “But the following day, we’ll meet here again to train. I’m truly impressed with your exceptional skill.”
Elfi’s spirit soared at his accolade, her body still shaking from his amorous awakening. She inhaled deeply, struggling to regain her composure, as she smoothed the wispy strands of hair from her face that had escaped from the long braid down her back. Although she was saddened that they would not be able to practice tomorrow, she was eager to train with him the following day. “I can hardly wait. It’s wonderful to spar again. And I am most grateful that you are teaching me archery and how to hurl a dagger.” She reached for the yew bow, her gesture silently asking him to hand it to her, which he did. “Thank you again for this beautiful gift,” she said, gripping it appreciatively with her left hand. “I shall treasure it always.”
“You’re very welcome. Come, let me take you home.” He led her into the mouth of the cave, relit their extinguished torches, and escorted her through the tunnel, back to the base of the keep. “I hate to leave, but I must get back to work fortifying the castle wall. I’ll see you soon. Goodbye, Elfi.” He kissed her softly and disappeared into the darkness.
She bolted the door behind him and went upstairs to her room, where she found Sif sitting in a chair under the open window, weaving a willow basket. Elfi entered the bedchamber, displaying the fabulous gift she’d received from her betrothed. “Look what Njord gave me — my very own bow and quiver of arrows! He’s teaching me archery…and how to hurl a dagger. Blessed Freyja, I am thrilled to be learning weaponry. And sparring again with my sword!” She unstrapped the belt at her waist, hanging the scabbard which contained her sheathed blade on a hook upon the wall.
“It makes me nervous to leave your door unlocked, so I always stay here until you come back.” Sif set her basket on the floor and stood, scoffing at Elfi’s appearance. “Your father would be furious if he knew you slipped out of the castle to practice weaponry in the sacred grove. And that you wear your brother’s leather armor and wield his sword!” She lifted the tapestry on the wall and bolted the hidden door to the secret stairwell, then returned to help Elfi out of the lamellar armor, padded gambeson, and brown woolen breeches. “You can wash in this basin. I’ve brought lavender soap and a soft drying cloth.”
Elfi cleansed her face and upper body with the sweet-smelling floral soap and fresh water in the ceramic bowl. After she’d dried off, Sif dressed her in a clean shift and green linen gown.
“Sit here, so I can comb and rebraid your hair.” Sif eased her down onto the tufted chair at the small vanity table in the corner near the window. As she unplaited Elfi’s messy braid, her voice was a whisper of breathless anticipation. “Tell me about today’s lesson with Jarl Njord.”
Elfi swayed in her chair, humming with delight. “He’s the perfect weapons trainer. An expert who challenges me to excel. But he’s also patient and gentle, encouraging me to continue, even when I fail. Today, he set up a target in the clearing near the sacred grove. He showed me how to position my body and how to tightly draw an arrow with my new bow. I even hit the target several times! When he wraps his arms around me, I practically swoon. His scent, his strength, his aura… he’s alluring and irresistible…” Elfi shifted in her seat so she could look at Sif, her heart racing with exhilaration. “I used to dread the thought of this arranged marriage. I was angry at being treated like a piece of property, to be traded for a political alliance with a Viking jarl. But now that I’ve met Njord, he’s so very different from what I expected. He’s ruggedly handsome, fiercely protective and possessive, and when he kisses me… I melt in his arms.” She turned back, facing forward in her chair again, as Sif resumed her braiding. “He’s unlike my domineering, obstinate father . Njord wants me to wield weapons. So that I may rule at his side. As an equal . A shieldmaiden warrior, just like I have always dreamed!” She gazed at Sif in the shiny silver oval on her vanity table that reflected her appearance. “I am mysteriously drawn to him, like I have never been before. I yearn to be near him, I hunger for his touch, and when his lips touch mine…blessed Freyja, I long to lie with him. To have our bodies join as one.”
Sif purred with contentment as she hugged Elfi tight. “I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way about Bodo, the stone cutter I told you about.” Nimble fingers deftly weaving the long locks, Sif swept sections of silky hair into braids along each side of Elfi’s face. “He tells me I’m beautiful,” she whispered in breathless awe, “and that he can’t believe a woman as lovely as I could ever be interested in a lame man.” Tears brimmed in Sif’s expressive amber eyes. “They call him Bodo le Bo?teux — Bodo the Cripple—because his right foot is mangled and he walks with a pronounced limp. A huge stone must have crushed it, and the bones didn’t properly heal. But I don’t care about that at all. He’s kind, generous, and attentive. He wants to meet me near the bonfire at the huge wedding celebration this Frigg’s Day—when several of our widows are marrying Jarl Njord’s warriors from Denmark. I can’t believe a free man like Bodo could ever be interested in a lowly thrall like me. But he tells me I’m beautiful. And he makes me feel alive.”
“You are beautiful, dear Sif. And I’m thrilled you’ve found someone who makes you so happy. When my faeir returns, we’ll ask him for your freedom. And even if he refuses—the Norse gods know how stubborn he can be—I will grant it once I become Countess of étretat.” She threw her arms around Sif’s slender shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Mayhap, like Njord and I plan to do, you and Bodo can wed on the Nordic Yule!”
Sif wiped her eyes, her pretty face aglow with hope. “That would be my greatest wish come true.” She finished plaiting the hair, joining several smaller side braids into a long, thick one which tumbled down Elfi’s back.
“Where is my amma ?” Elfi wondered if her grandmother was taking her usual afternoon nap. Although Oda had always supervised le Chateau Blanc with stern, impeccable efficiency, now that her aging bones ached and she tired easily, she frequently rested in her private room.
“Sleeping. My mother is with her. Embroidering Lord Thorfinn’s tunics for your upcoming wedding.” Sif gathered the soap, drying cloth, and basin of water. “I must return to my chores in the kitchen.”
Elfi nodded and rose from her chair. “I shall go down to the Mermaid Cove. I’ll be back in an hour or two.” She strapped her sword Shadowbane across her hips and tucked Dag’s flute into the gathered bodice of her deep green gown.
“Be careful. I know it’s well sheltered, but it makes me nervous that you go there alone.” Worry furrowed Sif’s concerned brow.
Elfi patted the blade at her hip. “I have my sword. And I can slip back into the castle through the cave if need be.” She fetched a lighted torch from a wall sconce out in the hall, returning to Sif’s side. “I must go to the Mermaid Cove. I crave the solitude and solace of the sea. I’ve been going there my entire life. It’s my sanctuary. A sacred place that speaks to my soul.” Elfi lifted the tapestry and unbolted the hidden latch. “See you soon.”
She watched as Sif reluctantly withdrew from the room. Then, closing the heavy wooden door behind her, Elfi slipped into the secret stairway. And headed to the Mermaid Cove.