While the hall thundered with clashing cups and cheers of “Skál!”, deafening howls from the wolfskin-cladSjórúlfarrumbled through the rafters and rattled the shields lining the wooden walls.
Budli descended the steps of the dais, sunlight gleaming off the garnets in his crown and his braided russet beard. He motioned to two attendants, each bearing a polished silver platter draped in crimson silk like the Raven King’s majestic cloak. Upon each silver tray, an elaborate dagger was encased in a shimmering golden sheath.
Sigurd and Agnar arose from the table of champions and bowed to the Raven King as he approached and halted before them.
Budli reverently took a sheathed dagger from the first crimson-draped silver platter and presented it to Agnar. Engraved into the golden leather of the scabbard, a raven soared, wings unfurled above a radiant sunburst rising over rolling waves.
The redbeard king’s deep voice echoed over the enthralled crowd.
“Gold, for the glory you have earned as the two finalists in theSólhjartaTournament.” Budli indicated the trio of images carved into the gleaming leather with a bejeweled hand. “Each scabbard bears my raven sigil, the sunburst of the summer solstice, and the waves of the Sognefjorden which flow beneath this royal hall.”
Budli then lifted the second dagger and unsheathed it, displaying the superb craftsmanship of the magnificent golden weapon. “A triad of symbols etched along the blade,” he bellowed, his voice rich and clear. “A wolf, a bear, and a falcon—representing the two finalists and the shieldmaiden for whom they vie.”
He brushed a regal finger over the trio of glittering gems embedded into the silver crossguard. “Amber, garnet, and lapis lazuli— the sun of the summer solstice, the blood of the championship duel, and the sea beneath the cliff of Hrafnfjall, where the Sólhjarta Tournament unfolds.”
Three runes were etched into the curved ivory of the elkhorn hilt. “Uruz, for strength.Tiwaz, for valor. AndSowilo, the sun. Three sigils, three gems, three runes—the sacred number nine of the Norns.” Budli sheathed the golden blade and solemnly presented it to Sigurd.
Addressing both finalists who bowed their heads before him, Budli proclaimed, “May these daggers honor your courage, commemorate your valor, and bear witness to your glory.”
Murmurs rippled through the throng as the Raven King swept across the gleaming pinewood floor and ascended the elevated dais to hisöndvegithrone.
Sigurd and Agnar turned to face the crimson-clad king.
Budli raised his elaborate elkhorn, prompting everyone in the hall to follow his royal lead. With a hearty roar, he boomed, “To Sigurd, Sea Wolf of Sjóborg, and Agnar, the Bear of Bjarkhölm! May the fiercest warrior triumph tomorrow as Champion of the Sólhjarta Tournament!”
While riotous shouts of “Skál!” rolled like thunder through the raucous hall, Sigurd and Agnar bowed before the Raven King, the royal guests at the high table, and the cheering crowd.
Brynhildr’s piercing falcon gaze sent shivers up Sigurd’s shaking limbs.
When he and Agnar returned to the table of champions and lifted their horns of mead, theouroboroson Sigurd’s chest burned under his blue tunic. As the swallow slid down his parched throat, his eyes locked with Brynhildr’s at the high table.
Through themark of the dragonwhich bound their souls, he sent her a silent message.
Soon, my love. We will share passion and seiðr in starlight.
Sigurd’s heart soared as the crowd roared, his body throbbing with desire under Brynhildr’s longing gaze.
When Budli raised a royal hand, a hush fell over the hall. The Raven King’s harsh cry split the expectant silence. “The golden daggers have been bestowed, the toasts of triumph to the two finalists complete. And now, honored guests of Hrafnfjall, let us welcome Skallagrímr,Skáld of the Sólhjarta Tournament!”
Rising majestically from his seat of honor beside the blue-facedvölvaat the high table, Skallagrímr slid down the steps of the elevated wooden dais like a sleek lynx. Strumming the nine strands of his gifted golden lyre, gilded crown atop his braided blond head, golden raven brooch clasped at his broad shoulder, the warrior-poet sang a glorious song of tribute to the two finalists of the Summer Solstice Tournament. As the goldenskáldperformed,“Saga of Bear and Sea Wolf”, the mellow notes of his lyre floated in the salty breeze from the sunlit fjord like the mead flowing through Sigurd’s Sea Wolf veins.
While Sigurd devoured Brynhildr with his ravenous lupine gaze, Agnar leaned close and spoke into his ear. “Sea Wolf, the morrow’s challenge will test our valor. At dawn’s first light, meet me at the base of Brynhildr’s tower, near the edge of the cliff overlooking the fjord. Let us swear a blood oath of brotherhood with our golden daggers. That whatever path the Norns lay at our feet, we shall ever be warriors bound by blood.”
Sigurd nodded firmly and glanced at the nearby table where Kveld Nightwolf sat among theSjórúlfar.The amber eyes of the black wolf atop his head glowed golden in the evening light of the setting sun. Sigurd lifted his horn to thevitki,dipping his head in acknowledgment and respect.
Kveld raised his horn to Sigurd and inclined his dark head, feral eyes ablaze, as if thegaldrmaðr—the master of reading runes—had foreseen Sigurd’s fated path.
As a shadow of unease swept through him, Sigurd returned his attention to Agnar. “I shall bring a silver goblet, this golden dagger…” he indicated the ceremonial weapon just gifted by theRaven King, “and a container of mead. Kveld Nightwolf will carve abindruneinto the stone of the cliff. We’ll seal our oath with blood, runes, and mead… beneath Brynhildr’s tower… in sea mist, stone, and sunlight.”
Agnar raised his horn to Sigurd. “To brotherhood.”
Sigurd clinked his horn against Agnar’s. “To our blood oath…and the championship of theSóhjartaTournament.Skál!”
While Brynhildr’s watchful eyes seared theouroborosabove his thundering heart, Sigurd held Agnar’s steady gaze and swallowed the golden mead.
* * * *
The bonfire crackled, sparks soaring into the starlit sky. Jubilant guests swirled to the lively notes of lyres, lutes,tallharpas, and flutes as Brynhildr held Sigurd’s golden dagger, fingertips brushing the symbols, gemstones, and runes.
