A tallLjósálfarwith long, straight hair the color of spun copper and eyes that glowed like golden amber stood in the doorway, a radiant smile across his clean shaven face. He handed Luna a bundle of fragrant white flowers, which she accepted with obvious joy.
“They are beautiful,” she exclaimed, kissing his cheek and welcoming him into the room. “I’ll put them in water. Please, come in and meet our guests.” As she arranged the flowers in a crystal vase and centered it on thetable, Ylva rushed forward to greet Ildris.
She kissed him on the cheek, as if he were an old friend. “I am delighted to see you again. It’s been so long.”
His resonant laughter was mellow and warm as a harp. He bowed at the waist, bending his bronze head to gallantly kiss her hand. “Enchanté, Madame la Comtesse.”
Ylva laughed with Ildris as Luna introduced Elfi and Njörd. “I’d like you to meet Elfi Thorfinnsdóttir, the Heiress of Étretat.”
Ildris politely kissed Elfi’s hand with elegant finesse. “Pleased to meet you, Lady Elfi.”
“And her betrothed, Njörd Ívarrsson, the Danish Jarl of Ribe.” Luna smiled as Ildris offered his long, luminous hand to shake Njörd’s. “TheÚlfhéðnarwarriorknown as theWolf of the Nordic Seas.”
Lugh transferred the cooked fish from the hearth onto two large silver platters and carried them to the table. “The fish is ready. Shall we eat?”
A tall blond brute appeared in the hallway, stretching his brawny arms overhead. “A hearty‘Já’for me. I’m famished.”
“Ah! Hunger awakens the savage wolf.” Lugh grinned at Úlf and introduced him to Ildris.
The ginger haired Ljósálfar shook the mammoth hand, and Ylva settled her guests in the green tufted chairs around the frosted ash table. She poured everyone a goblet of golden wine, then passed the platters of vegetables while Lugh served the fish.
“Glimmerfish, silver salmon, and frostfin snapper,” he declared proudly as he displayed the grilled fresh catch. “The plentiful bounty of the Sea God Njörd, for whom you are named,” he grinned at Njörd. “And the glorious Sun Goddess Sól.”
Elfi tasted the pale blue fish tinged with iridescent violet. “Mmm, this is wonderful!”
“My favorite. Frostfin snapper.” Luna popped a bite in her mouth and closed her eyes in delight. Her emerald eyes sparkled at Elfi. “It will enhance yoursjóvættirmagic with the vitality of the Elandrian Sea.” She smiled as she sipped from her silver goblet. “All of the food and water inÁlfheimwill rejuvenate and replenish your power.”
As Njörd sampled the savory golden carrots, silver streaked kale, and snowblossom squash, he wondered how to ask Ildris about the upcoming voyage. As if he’d read Njörd’s mind, theLjósálfaraddressed him first.
“I shall accompany you to Ísland,” he announced.
Ylva spun toward him, clearly startled and apparently upset.
He raised an elegant hand, as if to silence her protest, and continued speaking to Njörd. “Lugh informs me that you must fulfill a prophecy. To reclaim your father’s Dwarven sword and slay theDökkálfar Blacksmith of Dorestad.” He took a sip of wine from his silver goblet, wiping his mouth with the back of a pale hand. Golden eyes aglow with otherworldly light, Ildris fixed Njörd with a mesmerizing stare as he leaned back in his chair. Unfastening a black leather pouch from the belt at his waist, he withdrew a ring and handed it to Njörd.
The gnarled, twisted band of blackened metal was inscribed with sinister runes which glistened in the incandescent twilight and formed the sharp claws of a gruesome beast. Clutched within the curved talons, an eerie blue sapphire stone glowed like an otherworldly eye. As he held it in his palm, the hackles on the back of Njörd’s neck bristled instinctively, an innate response to the recognition of Dark Elvenmagic.
“TheDökkálfarDeath Claw,” Ildris announced. “It belonged to Nithrak, the Dark Elf who crafted it. Brother of Gúldrun. TheDökkálfarBlacksmith of Dorestad.”
Njörd’s breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears.
“I turned Nithrak to stone with mygildirbrooch. He was wearing the ring, which I obtained when it dropped to the ground. I nullified itsDökkálfarmagic, but as yourÚlfhéðnarsenses can attest, it still retains traces of Nithrak’s power. As I retain traces of his petrification. Gúldur has been tracking me ever since. He will not rest until Nithrak’s death is avenged when he kills me. But to do so, he needs a Dwarven blade.” Ildris accepted the ring back from Njörd.
Úlf visibly shuddered at the sight of the Death Claw as Ildris tucked the ominousring back into the pouch at his waist. “If theLjósálfarcan be killed withDökkálfarweapons, why must Gúldur use a Dwarven sword to slay you?”
“Because Ildris is theLjósálfarLord of Starlight. He imbues ourgildirstarstones with the power to petrify—or purify. A magical gift from Gilira, the Light Elven Goddess of the Stars.” Luna flashed Ildris a dazzling smile.
Ildris inclined his head to his radiant hostess, then directed his attention back to Njörd. “You wondered when, where, and how to slay Gúldur.” His golden eyes glimmered like starlight. “I will be the irresistible lure that will lead him to Ísland. Where you will fulfill the prophecy. By slaying theDökkálfar Blacksmith of Dorestad.”
As adrenaline rushed through Njörd’s veins, Lugh rose from the table. “Speaking of magical gifts and the upcoming voyage to Ísland, I have something for Úlf.” Tossing his silvery blond hair over a broad shoulder, he unstrapped a leather scabbard from his waist and handed it to an astonished Úlf. “Adragonscalesheath, similar to my own—and Elfi’s,” he said, grinning at her. “But crafted from the scales of a frost dragon. From the ice-capped peaks of Vågakallen, the highest mountain in the Lofoten Islands of Norway.”
Njörd examined the shimmery leather sheath clasped in Úf’s appreciative hands. The jagged scales were like sharp peaks of ice, in shades of silver and frosted grey. In stark contrast with the icy hue, some of the larger scales were a deep sapphire, speckled with glittering flecks, like a starlit winter night sky.
Lugh gestured to the trio of stones embedded in the leather scabbard, glistening and pulsing with power. “Moonstone, starstone, and sapphire. All imbued with pureLjósálfarlight.”
Úlf unsheathed the dagger, disbelief appearing on his shocked, bearded face. “This is Áki’sDökkálfardagger! The one that nearly killed me.” He ran a calloused finger over the sleek Elven scrolls on the silver where sinister shadows had once been etched into the blade. In the intricate pommel, agildirgem glittered like a captured star.
“I replaced the black snakeskin in the sheath with frosteddragonscaleleather. Exchanged the trio of dark gems in the scabbard. I layeredLjósálfarsteel over the Dark Elven metal of the dagger. And exchanged the black obsidian gem with agildirstarstone.” Pride illuminated his exultant face. “Now you—like Bodo and Njáll—have a Light Elven weapon to battle theDókkálfarin Ísland. Forming a trio ofLjósálfardaggers.” He grinned at Luna, Ylva, and Elfi. “Like the trinity ofLjósálfarhealers.”
