The following morning, when Elfi met Njörd in the sacred grove for training, he suggested practicing with the white wolf bone dagger that Lugh had crafted for her. “You’re used to the straight handle of my blade. The curved bone will require a few adjustments in your grip and technique. Let’s practice with yourLjósálfardagger.”
Elfi unsheathedÚlfbladfrom the dark greendragonscalescabbard strapped at her waist. As she withdrew the blade, she noted how the curved bone handle molded perfectly to fit her grip.
“With a straight handle, you’ve learned to throw with the force of your arm and shoulder.” His long, calloused fingers traced the curve of the jawbone. “But the curve alters your grip, requires more of a snap in your wrist, and allows for a lighter, more accurate throw.” He nodded toward the target attached to the trunk of the nearby tree. “Try it. And adjust your throw to fit the new blade.”
Elfi hurled the dagger, but exaggerated the snap of her wrist, resulting in too much spin. For the next throw, she used the same force as she had done with Njörd’s straight handle, quickly realizing her error as it veered away from the center and hit the outer edge of the target. Over the course of many attempts, she made slight alterations in her grip, the snap of her wrist, and the angle of release, untilÚlfbladfelt like an extension of her own arm as she hurled the white wolf bone dagger.
She beamed at Njörd, proud of her improvement and accomplishment as she successfully hit the target with several consecutive throws. “It’s much lighter and more accurate. And a perfect fit for my hand.”
“Ljósálfarweapons are crafted by immortals. They surpass anything made by a human.” He traced the intricate carvings inscribed into the bone. “These runes are etched with myÚlfhéðnarblood. The blood of Odin to protect you.” Njörd’s piercing gaze penetrated Elfi’s soul as he solemnly returned the dagger.
She sheathedÚlfbladat her waist, unable to take her eyes from his. A powerful wave surged through her body from the swirling depths of dark blue stare, savage as the Nordic Seas.
He pulled her against him, possessive lips claiming hers, the shared essence between them ebbing and flowing like an endless, eternal tide.
She melted into his embrace, drowning in desire. Just as she thought he might lay her down amongst the leaves, Njörd released her, stepping back and adjusting his breeches with a lusty grin. “I’d like to make love right here. Or in the waterfall cave. But we’ll have to wait until tonight. We need to summon Lugh.”
Elfi exhaled forcefully, smoothing her woolen breeches to compose herself. “And get back to the castle to welcome Ylva and Skårde.”
He offered her his arm. “Shall we go?”
She nodded, linking her elbow through his. They strode across the sacred grove of ash and fir trees to the tunnel on the opposite side of the forest which led to the waterfall cave.
Inside the grotto, the thunderous cascade tumbled from the clifftop over the open mouth of the cave, filling the cool, salty air with droplets of mist as it crashed into turquoise waters of the Mermaid Cove far below. Elfi removed Dag’s whalebone flute from the leather pouch at her waist, raised it to her lips, and played the familiar melody which would summon Lugh.
He soon emerged from the dark recesses of the cave, a radiant grin stretched across his luminous, clean shaven face. “What a delightful surprise to hear you play. Why have you summoned me, Elfi of Étretat?” Lugh bowed his silvery blondhead and bestowed a soft kiss on Elfi’s hand.
She told him how Úlvhild’sseidrvision had revealed that sixLjósálfarwould be needed for the voyage to Ísland. She described how the goddess Sól had gifted thevölvawithmagic to combat theDökkálfar.And how she and Njörd would set sail in two days, before her father returned withJarl Rikardto Étretat.
“I will assemble theLjósálfarat once. The six of us will come to the castle at first light the day after tomorrow. In full armor. BearingLjósálfarweapons to battle theDökkálfar.”Lugh spotted the blade on Elfi’s hip. “How do you like theÚlfbladdagger?”
“It’s incredible. Lightweight and perfectly molded to my grip. I’ve been practicing with Njörd in the sacred grove.” Elfi gazed up Lugh,whose dark green eyes glistened like rare emeralds. “Thank you so much for crafting it for me. I will treasure it always.”
At the thought of returning to the castle to prepare for tonight’s welcoming feast, she remembered that Lugh had crafted Skårde’s sword—theLjósálfarblade with which theDragon of Denmarkhad slain the infamous Raven Warrior. Elfi also recalled that Lugh’s sister Luna had gifted Ylva theLjósálfarmagic ofnen glir. Perhaps the Light Elven siblings would like to come to tonight’s feast. “Skårde and Ylva are arriving this afternoon. They will stay here untilJarl Rikardand my father return from Reims.They plan to remain at the castle for Dag’s burial ceremony withGaladiras well,once Njörd and I—gods willing—return from Ísland.”Elfi smiled at Njörd, then glanced up at Lugh. “Would you and Luna like to come to tonight’s feast to welcome Skårde and Ylva toChâteau Blanc?”
“I would indeed. And I’m sure Luna will want to come as well. I’ll return toÁlfheim, fetch my sister, and see you tonight in the Great Hall.” Lugh shook Njörd’s hand, kissed Elfi’s cheek, and with a radiant farewell grin, disappeared into the dark portal.
Elfi and Njörd slipped behind the waterfall, walking back to the cave which led to the sacred grove. As he started a small flame with his firesteel tool, she told him how Lugh had crafted Jarl Rikard’s sword,Aragil.
“It means “Noble Star” in Lugh’s Elven tongue,” she explained as he relit the torch to light their way in the dark tunnel. “Lugh also forged Skårde’sswordDuradrakkfromdragonfireinÁlfheim.HecraftedGaladir,named for the enchanted starstone in the hilt of Dag’s beloved blade.” When Njörd rose to his feet, clutching the fiery torch, Elfi held his gaze. Ferocity and conviction laced her quavering voice. “The Light Elven sword I shall bury with my brother in hishaugrof the sacred grove.”
With a bent finger, Njörd gently lifted her chin so she would look at him. Blue fire blazed in his fierce gaze. “Indeed you will, my love. As soon as we return from Ísland.” He brushed soft lips against hers. “And I shall be at your side.”
When they reached the hidden stairwell at the bottom of the castle keep, Njörd held the torch high and escorted Elfi up to her room. She opened the door to find Sif seated beneath the open window, a bone needle in her hand and embroidery in her lap.
Sif placed the sewing on the table at her side and rushed Elfi into the room. “Yourammais awake. We need to get you out of Dag’s armor!”
Elfi kissed Njörd goodbye at the bottom of the stairs, with a promise to see him in at the welcoming feast. When he left, Elfi latched the heavy door behind him, dashed back up to her room, and locked the hidden door behind the tapestry. Just as she lowered it back into place, Oda entered the room.
Elfi couldn’t deny where she’d been, for she had just locked the hidden door. Nor could she deny what she’d been doing, for weapons were strapped to her hip, and she was clad in Dag’s lamellar armor. Mortified, Elfi stood speechless before the stern, scowlingchâtelaineofChâteau Blanc.To her utter astonishment, a broad smile stretched across heramma’s crinkled cheeks, amusement glinting in her twinkling gaze.
“Do you really think I was unaware all those years you trained with Dag in the sacred grove? That I didn’t know he’d given you his leather armor? Or hisShadowbanesword?” Oda hobbled across the room, her stride slowed by her sore hip. She grasped Elfi’s handsin a strong, affectionate squeeze. When she looked up at Elfi, tears welled in her proud, loving eyes. “I have no doubt that you,elska, are as valiant a warrior as the beloved brother who trained you. And now—with the additional skills you are learning from theWolf of the Nordic Seas—you shall one day rule at Njörd’s side as Countess of Étretat. To defend this castle and thePays de Caux.AsShieldmaiden ofChâteau Blanc.”She hugged Elfi, kissed her cheek, and smoothed the sides of her own gown. “Now, get out of this armor and into the bath that I had drawn for you in the antechamber. Sif will bathe you, braid your hair, and help you into a lovely gown. Meet me downstairs to finish decorating the Great Hall when you look presentable. Skårde and Ylva should be arriving soon.” Holding her regal head high, Oda smiled at Elfi. And followed Vilde out the bedroom door.
Elfi spun toward Sif. “She knew! All those years, training with Dag. And now…the sessions with Njörd.”
Sif helped Elfi out of her armor and into the bath. “Mayhap sheand my mother both know that I’ve been slipping out of the castle with Bodo. And that you’ve been sleeping here with Njörd.”
Elfi grinned, slid under the steaming water, and rose back to the surface for Sif to wash her hair. As the scent of lavender and chamomile lather filled the steamy air, she laughed. “I suspect you’re right. Myammaand yourmoðirare very shrewd indeed.”
