Luna’s quiet announcement stunned Skjöld. Though Light Elvenwarriors such as Lugh, Olvir, and Ildris did fight alongside Jarl Rikard to defend thePays de Caux.Ljósálfarhealers did not wage war. Their pristine magic was meant for curing and protecting, not inflicting harm.
He turned to her, raising an incredulous brow. “You are going into battle?”
Luna’s emerald eyes held Njáll’s. “There will beDökkálfar—wielding cursed, deadly weapons.I must heal the injured withnen glirto cleanse the darkness from their wounds. Without aLjósálfarhealer, all will die within three days.”
“Then I shall shield you—just as I shall defend Hugh Capet.” Skjöld locked eyes with Njáll. Fear for his mate flared in theÚlfhéðinn’sdesperate gaze. “With my Dwarven shield, as I protected Úlvhild in Ísland.”
Profound gratitude and implicit trust eased the strain on Njáll’s harrowed face.
Clad in glimmering chain mail, flanked by four massive Danes in equally impressive armor, Tryggvi suddenly appeared at their table, challenge glinting in his warrior gaze. “Broðir,”he grinned. “The mock battles are about to begin. Come—show me what eight winters of training with theBlóðsmiðrhave taught you.” Behind Tryggvi, massive arms folded across his burly chest, King Sweyn watched Skjöld, his stern gaze and unnerving presence sharp as a steel blade.
Skjöld glanced at Skadi. He couldn’t refuse Tryggvi’s challenge—especially not in front of their uncle, the king—but he didn’t want to leave her side.
Dragonfireblazed in her icy gaze. “Go,” she urged him, pushing Skjöld toward his younger brother as she grinned at Tryggvi. “You cannot ignore such a challenge.”
Just as Skjöld was about to rise from his seat, a burlyÚlfhéðinnlumbered toward their table. Russet wolfskin draped over his braided red hair, set aflame by the flickering firelight, Hrólf Redbeard growled at Njörd and Njáll. “TheÚlfhéðnarare doing theBlade Dance.” A feral grin split his scarred, bearded face as he thumped Njörd’s shoulder. “Úlf and Njáll against me and you. Come on—I want to win theBlood Pelt.”
* * * *
Danish warriors and Norman knights poured out of the Great Hall, eager to watch or participate in the mock battles, axe throwing, and dagger hurling events, Ylva, Oda, Vilde, and Sif led Queen Íssla to join Elfi, Luna, and Skadi. The women settled onto the benches on opposite sides of the table.
“They’re still boys at heart, aren’t they?” Queen Íssla chuckled, nodding as a servant refilled her elaborate horn with golden mead. She winked at Elfi. “Tough warriors who love to fight, but they’ll want you to fuss over their wounds and coddle them when you’re alone.”
Elfi blushed at the thought ofcoddlingNjörd. She knew quite a few ways to do just that. But not one was a topic she could discuss with hismoðir.
“We were talking about Elfi’s babe being born on the vernal equinox—just as our men will go into battle,” Luna informed theLjósálfarqueen. “But her midwife Úlvhild will be here by then. Skjöld assured us he would sail home from Norway with her and Haldor in time for the birth.”
“I met Úlvhild in Ísland, where she was critically injured,” the queen replied, compassion and concern etched across her luminous face. “I was enormously pleased to hear she has fully recovered.” Her eyes widened in wonder. “And that Haldor summoned Freyja to heal her in theDragon’s Leapcave. Njörd says that Úlvhild is with child as well—a divine gift from the Goddess of Fertility, for thevölvawho had been infertile for nearly twenty winters. Freyja be praised!”
“Úlvhild and Haldor are naming their daughter Freyja, in honor of the goddess.” Elfi lifted her silver goblet high. “To Freyja, the goddess—and the babe!Skál!”
Everyone clinked goblets and horns, drinking to both Freyjas.
“Tomorrow, we can visit yourMiralircastle,” Íssla said to Elfi. She smiled at Skadi. “And your moonstone cottage onLyrian Lake. The frosted starfruit is plentiful now.” The queen turned to Luna. “Are you hosting a winter solstice celebration inÁlfheim? Njörd mentioned that he and Elfi were visiting you and Lugh.”
“Yes, tomorrow evening in our cottage. We are meeting in the sacred grove at sunset. We would be honored if you joined us, Queen Íssla.” Luna graced the queen with a radiant smile.
“I would be delighted to accept. Thank you for the invitation. I shall meet you in the sacred grove at sunset tomorrow.” Íssla sipped from her silver goblet, contentment aglow on her luminous face.
Luna’s expression dimmed. Agitation flickered across her delicate features as anguish glimmered in her emerald eyes. She seemed torn, as though a heavy burden weighed upon her gentle heart. “My queen…” she stammered, her frail voice faltering. “I wish to make a request.”
Luna smoothed the ivory silk of her ethereal gown and drew a deep breath before meeting Íssla’s inquisitive gaze. “I know that gifts ofLjósálfarmagic are exceptional and rare… but I would ask your permission to bestow such a boon upon Njáll.”
Imploring the queen with wide, pleading eyes, Luna whispered, “He has asked for my hand, and I long to accept. Yet as a full-bloodedLjósálfar, I must return toÁlfheimevery nine days to renew my Elven light.” She gazed at her trembling hands, then looked up at the resplendent queen. “If I could grant him a form of our magic, he could come toÁlfheimwith me. We could even live there together.” Hope bloomed like a fragile flower on Luna’s fervent face. “Please, my queen. I love him so…”
Íssla’s glorious smile radiated starlight. “I remember when you requested permission to bestow the gift ofnen gliron Jarl Rikard’sdóttirfor her summer solstice wedding atChâteaufort.”She cast a fond glance at Ylva, a knowing light in her regal gaze. “TheLjósálfarsong of water—for the Breton priestess who healed with the sacred springs of the Celtic goddess Divona.”
The queen directed her attention back to Luna. “Yes, you may grantyourÚlfhéðinnmate a gift ofLjósálfarmagic. And I shall bequeath to you both the sacred forest ofÍsilskóga,that you may build a home together beneath dark green leaves laced with silver. Live in the Moonlit Forest, beside theÍsilwenSpring, where your healing magic may flow through water…” Íssla’s voice was soft as moonlight on snow. “And your beloved wolf may run free beneath theLjósálfarmoon.”
Luna leapt to her feet, raced to the queen’s side, and kissed her pearlescent cheek. “Thank you, my queen. I shall be forever grateful.” She looked up at the women seated around the table. “Please, say nothing to Njáll. I want to surprise him tomorrow at sunset in the sacred grove.” Her verdant eyes glimmered with the magic of the forest. “I’ll lead him intola Forêt du Loup…and bestow my gift in the heart of the Wolf Forest.”
Bruised and bloodied, grinning faces flushed with fresh sweat, Njörd, Njáll, and Skjöld stumbled back to the table, roaring with laughter. Draped across both Njáll and Úlf’s right shoulders was the covetedBlood Pelt—a wolfskin dyed deep red and fastened with a jagged wolf fang bound in finely wrought silver.
Njörd bellowed to Njáll, a wolfish grin curling beneath his braided beard. “You and Úlf had the gods’ favor tonight, but next year—it’ll be mine!” With a guttural growl, he helped Elfi to her feet. “Come, wife. I need your healing touch.”
Bleeding from a nasty gash on his right cheek, Skjöld nodded to the ladies at the table, bowed his head to the queen, and grinned at Skadi. “Not only did I defeat my braggartbroðir,” he smirked, “I impressed my uncle Sweyn. Eight winters with Haldor’sBlóðsmiðrforged me into a bloody brute.”
Skadi rose, grasped a linen cloth from the table, and placed it gently over Skjöld’s wound. “Speaking of bloody,” she quipped, “I need to tend to this.” She smiled at Elfi, Ylva, and Luna. “I’m aLjósálfathealer… just like you.”With one hand on the bloodied cloth, and holding Skjöld’s with the other, she led him toward the double oak doors which opened to the vestibule and stairwell. “We’ll see you in the morning fordagmál.Good night, everyone. Sleep well.”
