“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 Njörd 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 freshwaterspring. 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 theLjósálfarmagic ofnen glirwith 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 Njörd.
Njörd 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 Njörd 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 yoursjósongrpower 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 Elvenmagic ofnen glir,I shall dispel theDökkálfardarkness from Úlf’s stricken body with the purity ofLjósálfarlight.” Like a waterfall fromÁlfheim, 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 ofLjósálfarhealers 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 Njörd, recognition sparked, and a wolfish grin stretched across his blond, bearded face. “Njörd,” he croaked. “Where am I?”
“InÁlfheim. Where this trinity ofLjósálfarhealers cured you.” Njörd 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 ofÁlfheim,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 aDökkálfar. And imbued by avölvawith malevolent magic. It took threeLjósálfarhealers to cure you. Luna, Ylva, and Elfi.” He walked a fewsteps 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 ofLjósálfarmagic 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 ofÁlfheimonto theDökkálfardagger and scabbard, their fluid song and trinity of magic dispelling the darkness withLjósálfarlight.
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 ofLjósálfarsteel, 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 theDökkálfar.”
“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 Njörd, “Ready?”
Njörd 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 ofmoonstones 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 theLjósálfarcottage, Elfi stood, mouth agape, absorbing the incredible view, while Njörd 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 ofLjósálfarwine.” She beamed at her guests. “And fresh fruit from our plentiful trees.”
Lugh and Njörd 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 doorslike glistening gems or glittering stars.
