Freyja’s eyes were inscrutable. “There is much that has been hidden from me. The wolf outside my door—its presence prevents me from going out and seeing things for myself. I dare not leave Folkvangr vulnerable. This much I know; evil has planted its seeds in the far North, and it grows. A terrible harvest is coming soon. The entire island of Gotland is at risk—Visby, the Ironwood, all of it. You will need more than the magic of your Sisters. You will need swords.”
“Swords? Where am I supposed to find swords?” asked Sif.
Freyja gazed at her. “I think you know the answer. Move swiftly, child.”
Their surroundings slowly faded, and before either could say another word, Sif opened her eyes to see the dawn. One thought was on her mind, and one name upon her lips.
“Hakon,” she said, and hurried out of bed.
***
Hakon groaned and tried to open his eyes. For some reason, they seemed glued shut. “Eurggh,” hemoaned and bit back a curse at the taste of sand in his mouth. He pawed around the floor, looking for a cup of anything to drink, and managed with an effort to open his eyes.
Gunnar sat on a chair next to his bed, grinning at him.
“Gods above and below,” groaned Hakon, running a hand through his hair. “I feel like I wrestled with the Thunder God himself last night.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you that drunk,” agreed Gunnar affably. “I’ll be amazed if there’s any mead left in the Jomsburg. But you’d better pull your carcass together, for you have a visitor.”
Hakon sat up, wincing. “Who?”
“A certain young lady, who may or may not be the reason you got yourself into such a state.”
“Loki’s balls,” cursed Hakon, swinging out of his bed. “Tell her something to give me a moment, would you? I desperately need a piss and something to wash my mouth out.”
“You could do both at once,” suggested Gunnar, dodging the boot Hakon hurled at him. “Go on, then.”
A few moments later, a somewhat refreshed but still bedraggled Hakon stepped out of the dwelling he shared with his brother. His heart was in his throat ashe regarded Sif, who looked even more beautiful in the morning light than she had looked the night before.
I cannot believe we are not meant to be together. I cannot.
“Good morn,” said Hakon gruffly.
“Good morn.”
They stood there facing each other in silence for a moment. Finally, Sif took a deep breath.
“Hakon, I had a dream last night,” she said and proceeded to tell him what she had seen and heard within her dream. Hakon listened thoughtfully and did not speak until she had finished her tale.
“So you believe that in your dream, Freyja was speaking to you directly,” he finally said.
“Without a whisper of a doubt,” she replied. “You know the stories our parents have told us. This has happened before. You do believe me, don’t you?”
“You’re not a liar, Sif,” Hakon replied. “Of course I believe you.” He rubbed his bearded chin in thought, before asking, “So what do you think this means? And what will you do?”
“As to what it means, I’m not sure,” admitted Sif. “A terrible threat from the far North? That could be anything. Lady Freyja said that the whole of Gotland isthreatened—Visby, the Ironwood, everything. What do I intend to do? Leave, immediately.”
Hakon stiffened but said nothing.
“The whole of Gotland needs our aid,” said Sif, an unspoken question in her voice.
“Ouraid,” echoed Hakon, emphasizing the first word.
“That’s why I’m here, Hakon. Lady Freyja said that we needed swords.” Sif looked for a moment as if she was going to say more then left it at that.
Thank you, Odin Allfather. When you close a door, you open a gate.
“You seek to hire my sword, Sif? You have it. But there is a price.”
