Haldor and Skjöld carried her into the cave and gently set her down upon the stone floor. While Skjöld started a fire in a recessed area under a crack in the roof, Haldor spread dried moss and lichens in a curved alcove near the back, covering them with blankets and furs to make a plush bed. When it was ready, he cradled her in his arms, carrying her to the back of the cave, where he settled her onto the soft pile. He loosened and removed the straps which had held the blankets snugly wrapped around her for the climb.
As Skjöld coaxed the fire into a steady roar, Gråskegg unloaded the supplies, setting the bowls, cups, and food items upon the stone shelf. “There’s a sack of barley here for pottage. Lingonberries and hazelnuts, too. And dried reindeer meat.” He admired the neatly stacked supplies, nodding in approval. “That should make a fine meal tonight. Dried fish and flatbread fornattmálin the morning.”
Yrjar had used the haft of his axe to wedge thick pieces of wood into narrow cracks in the stone just above the entrance. Two heavy reindeer cloaks now hung across the cave mouth to retain heat and keep out the wind. “You can part these when you go outside to empty the chamber pot,” he said. “And use them like a door when Skjöld returns with supplies.”
Their respective tasks completed, the three men prepared to descend the mountain and travel with Bjarni back to Vågan, where they would return the sled, ponies, and reindeer to Knút.
Gråskegg clasped Haldor’s forearms in a fond farewell. “May Freyja heal yourvölva.Andkeep you both safe.”
Yrjar wrapped Haldor in a fierce bearhug. “We’ll winter in Vågan. Chop wood, repair huts and sleds for Knút. Trap, hunt, and fish. Skjöld will keep us posted. And bring you news as well.”
Skjöld was the last to approach Haldor. The blue dragon inked around his neck glowed as fiercely as his feral gaze. “I’ll return in three days, With fresh fish, furs, and meat.”
Apprehension and empathy blazed in his eyes as he looked down at Úlvhild. He knelt and kissed her brow, murmuring softly into her unhearing ear. When he rose to stand beside Haldor, he inhaled deeply and sighed. “I’ll pray to Freyja tonight, too. Make a generous offering… and a sacrifice.”
He hugged Haldor like a son embracing his father. “I plan to go to Normandy soon with Skadi—from the waterfall cave portal on the island of Skrova.” He adjusted the Dwarven shield strapped to his back. “We’ll travel throughÁlfheimto the Mermaid Cove in Étretat. I’ll speak with my parents, bring news from thePays de Caux. And let them know about Úlvhild.”
Skjöld turned toward the cave exit to join Gråskegg and Yrjar, but paused and glanced back as they parted the reindeer cloaks. “Freyja will heal her. I know it in my heart. See you in three days.”
With a gust of cold wind, he was gone.
While snow he’d gathered just outside the mouth of the cave melted in a pot over the fire, Haldor gently removed the golden gown Úlvhild had worn into battle, now stiffened by nine days’ worth of salt and sea spray during the voyage from Ísland. When the melted water was warm, he lovingly washed her naked body with chamomile soap and a clean cloth, in preparation for the sacred ritual. When he’d finished, he coveredher cleansed body with soft blankets and furs.
Haldor removed his own soiled clothing, washed his salty, weary body, and donned a fresh woolen tunic and breeches.
Now that he had purified them both, he prepared the offering for Freyja.
From the satchel where he had stored them, Haldor retrieved Úlvhild’s silver chalice, sacred dagger, and leather belt with its pouches of herbs. He tossed three juniper berries into the fire, the resinous pine scent welcoming and warm. When he added a pinch of sweet gale and a sprig of dried angelica, the fragrant, spicy smoke curled like a beckoning hand.
He selected three jewels to imbue withgaldrmagic and began chanting an incantation. His deep voice, mellow as a harp, poured like rich honey over the three glowing gems.
Amber, sacred toFreyja, like the gems in herBrisingamennecklace.
Amethyst, the heart ofseidrmagic, and thesoulboundrune which joined him to Úlvhild.
And moonstone, to open the veil between worlds. Like the glowing gem in her staff.
As the lifelong love for hisvölvaflowed from hisvitkiheart into his mellifluous song, Haldor placed the trio ofgaldr-infused gems around Úlvhild.
Moonstone at her crown.
Amethyst at her heart.
And amber at her left hand, spiritual pathway to her soul.
Haldor knelt by the fragrant fire, inhaling the sweet smoke and chanting softly as he filled the silver chalice with honeyed mead. He added meadowsweet to the thick, golden brew, and withdrew a small chunk of myrrh from the leather pouch of Úlvhild’s belt, which he burned like incense in the flickering flames.
With the sharp, pointed blade ofFreyja’s Whisper,Haldor pierced the tip of the third finger on his left hand, letting three droplets of blood fall into the meadowsweet mead.
A triad of imbued gemstones.
A trio of fragrant herbs.
And a trinity of blood droplets.
A divine offering to Freyja—with the sacred number nine.
Haldor placed the silver chalice at Úlvhild’s feet, its embellished gems and etched runes glistening in the firelight. The sweet almond and honeyed scent of the meadowsweet mead mingled with juniper and myrrh from the fire, wrapping the cave in aromatic, inviting warmth. He knelt at her right side and caressed her brow, the moonstone, amethyst, and amber gems arranged in harmony around her, as he continued his melodic invocation.
