Chapter Twenty
Soren
While I had experienced touching moments in my life, none were as powerful as the passing of Freya’s father, the great and mighty Bj?rn Helvig.
Not just his family and me, but the entire tribe, upon hearing the news of his passing, offered their unsheathed blades and fell to a knee.
He had been a great man until the end, and it did my heart good that he and Freya found only love and peace together in their final moments.
Then things only grew more powerful when, one by one, after paying homage to Bj?rn, warrior after warrior raised their heads and looked at Tove as we exited Bj?rn’s lodge, offering their blades to her in supplication.
Usually, there would be more of a process within a tribe to establish new leadership, but it was clear when not just Bj?rn’s warriors, but all his people looked to her with respect that she would be taking her father’s place.
“As she should,” Freya said soon after, when we went to her lodge so that we might bathe and prepare for a proper burial that evening. “Tove has long been by my father’s side in all things. She’s the one he looked to and the one who was here most for our people after the bear attack.”
“And she best tames Knud,” I added, because it was noteworthy, according to Freya.
“Ja,” she agreed. “And ’tis no easy task.” Combing her hair after we bathed and dressed, her voice grew soft and knowing. “Yet ’tis his task too, as I suspect he tames her as well in his own way.”
“So ’tis love betwixt them?” I wondered, taking the comb from her and running it through her thick crimson locks.
“’Tis something,” she murmured. “Though I cannot say quite what, as both are hard to gauge sometimes, given their role in my father’s life.”
“A role and fate that is now theirs to fill.” I moved her hair aside and peppered soft kisses on the side of her neck. “One that I imagine will only bring them closer together as the Norns did us.”
“Without doubt,” she said, tilting her head back until our lips met and we lost ourselves for a time in each other.
After the sun set, we joined the village at the shore to send Bj?rn off to the gods as he had wished, in the way of our Viking ancestors. Brilliant green and blue lights drifted across the night sky, and the seas were calm.
With our wolf, Sten, by our side, I wrapped my arms around Freya from behind, and we watched as they laid him in a small boat, adorned with his favored weapons, and the vessel was set afire by a flaming arrow as it drifted out to sea.
Feeling her pain, I held her as silent tears fell, and her father traveled on fiery sparks to greet our All Father.
Afterward, we went to the Helvig’s great lodge and spent the evening celebrating Bj?rn’s life with tales of his adventures and battles.
It became abundantly clear as the eve wore on that the people looked to both Tove and Knud to lead them, whether they were married or not.
I couldn’t blame them, either, after watching the two of them together.
There need not be love to see they worked well together, and the Helvig tribe needed that most right now.
Eventually, the evening waned, and Tove asked us to join her and Knud alone for one last toast to Bj?rn, and so that we might talk of Astrid. As expected, Tove didn’t seem to feel she alone should speak with us about Astrid, but included Knud as if it were a given.
“Considering you are taking Father’s place now, Tove, you should have this,” Freya said when we joined them around a small fire in Tove’s lodge.
She handed her sister the letter Lachlann had wanted delivered to Bj?rn.
“’Tis word of Chieftain Lachlann Mackay and Astrid’s upcoming marriage so that we might strengthen ties betwixt our lands going forward. ”
Tove broke the seal, unraveled the scroll, and read, her finely arched ebony eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “It does speak of marriage, but not of Astrid to Lachlann, but to his son, Declan Mackay.” She frowned at us. “How do I know that name?”
“’Twas what I said upon first hearing his name,” I muttered, yet this made sense, given Freya’s assessment of the two before we left Scotland.
“Because Declan is known for his battle prowess,” Freya said, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Yet that battle does not extend to Astrid…not really.”
“Though his hatred of the Norse does,” Knud said darkly, a storm brewing in his eyes. A response I well understood yet had to counter for Astrid’s sake because someday we might very well stand on the battlefield opposite her husband.
“Hatred that still allowed me to heal in his castle,” I defended, surprising Freya as I was the last one who would typically champion Declan.
Yet it was true, and that had to mean something right now, if there was ever to be peace between our countries.
If ever the pointless deaths at the Battle of Largs were to mean anything.
Strive toward a purpose. Make a difference.
Then there was Astrid, stuck in the thick of it, her heart in the right place.
“And Astrid is there willingly?” Tove asked Freya, not for the first time. “You are certain?” She shook her head. “Because if she’s not, I will sail there myself and—”
“She is,” Freya cut her off gently, offering a reassuring nod. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Astrid, as she told you through the flames, is very much where her talisman and the Norns have led her. Very much where destiny has led her so that all goes as it should on Midgard.”
“And ’tis no surprise to you that she will be marrying Declan instead of the chieftain, Lachlann?” Tove assumed, looking at both me and Freya. “That this match is not against her will and ’twill only bring her happiness?”
“Neither of us can speak to happiness as that is in the Norns’ hands,” Freya replied.
“As to it being against her will?” That same soft smile hovered on her lips.
“Somehow I doubt it, though I do wonder why Lachlann would have lied to us about who she was marrying.” She gazed into the flames and thought about it.
“Unless he knew something he didn’t want his son knowing just yet, such as impending illness, perhaps.
” She shook her head. “He was not recovering well from nearly drowning.”
“I imagine you will know soon enough via Astrid and the flames,” I said, agreeing with her theory.
“And what of you, Soren?” Knud grunted, narrowing his eyes at me, still focused on Declan. “What do you think of the warrior Astrid is to marry, given that you have met the man?”
I nearly said he reminded me a lot of Knud himself, but bit my tongue and said what they needed to hear, bluntly, and prayed it was the truth, at least for Astrid’s sake.
“However difficult I found him to be, I believe Declan’s feelings for Astrid bear a striking resemblance to those you feel for Tove, and vice versa, so ja, I think she will be safe in his hands.
” Although I debated saying more, they needed to know everything.
“I also think Freya is right. Lachlann’s health is failing after nearly drowning, so Declan may be closer than he knows to becoming chieftain, putting Astrid in a good position, indeed. ”
When Tove and Knud’s expressions grew tense at my implication that they had feelings for one another, Tove handled things with ease, thanking me for my honesty, however skewed it might be regarding her and Knud.
“’Tis good to see you wearing Soren’s pendant, Freya,” Tove said, changing the subject, yet her voice remained serious if not a touch sad. “I wish I could have given it to you sooner, as it should have always been yours.” She noted Freya’s stone within. “And that has never been clearer.”
She went on to share what had happened as Freya continued recovering from illness after they left our stronghold all those years ago.
Though Freya had no recollection of it, given her youth and what she had been through, it seemed her father had taken it from her shortly after they departed.
He didn’t want it to influence her future marriage, which, at that time, would never have been to a Dahl.
“While knowing that would have once infuriated me,” Freya confessed, without any anger in her voice, “it doesn’t now.
” She offered me a soft, knowing smile. “I ended up with the man I was always supposed to be with in the end, so I forgive Father his trespasses. Soren and I had to walk our separate paths to come together as we should and see our Wyrd through. A Wyrd designed by the gods.”
I met her smile, never more grateful for the Norns and our Wyrd. “Indeed, we did.”
After that, we spoke of lighter things and enjoyed our time together.
Yet, as we said goodbye the next day, all knew our country hovered on the precipice of great change that all three Helvig sisters were destined to be part of.
So there would undoubtedly be conversations ahead between our tribes about what came next after the winter passed, and we could travel to see one another more often.
This time, when we departed the Helvig stronghold, the sisters embraced, promising they would see one another after the winter thaw. Knud and I shared a mutual nod of camaraderie that I hoped would someday build into a more lasting friendship.
Ivar and our men seemed well rested and eager to go home when we set sail with our wolf, Sten, standing proudly at our side, forever watching over us as Tove and Knud faded into the distance.
Though the seas were choppy and the winds frigid and gusty, the way was far smoother than when I last traveled this route with Freya, and our future far more promising.
Unlike the first time, when our boat approached the docks of our Dahl stronghold later that day, Freya had no trepidation in her lovely amber gaze, only excitement as the horns blared, announcing our impending arrival.
Things only got better from there when we spied Brynhild awaiting us on the docks, and our entire village roared in welcome from the shore as we sailed in.
“Welcome home,” Brynhild exclaimed, somehow managing to embrace both me and Freya at the same time with tears in her eyes after we disembarked. “’Tis so very good to have you all back safe.”
Smiling and laughing because there was much joy to be had, we embraced her in turn before we, along with our traveling companions, made our way into the village to much happiness.
The journey had not been easy, but we were home and spent an evening rehashing our adventures and telling tales of battles fought and lives lost. Of new beginnings and a future that looked brighter because we were all together again.
“And what of your shield and blade, Freya?” Brynhild asked later that night as she, Ivar, Freya, and I sat around a small fire in the back of my and Freya’s lodge near our tree. She looked from me to Freya. “You said your father, upon his death, asked Soren to return them to you.”
“He did,” I confirmed. “And so, they shall be.”
Heading inside, I retrieved the weapons Freya had given me months ago, sank to a knee in front of her, and held them out to her. “As promised, they are yours to wield again as they should have always been, Freya Helvig.”
“You mean Freya Dahl,” she murmured. Her gaze lingered on them affectionately before she shook her head. “And they are not mine anymore. I carry your mother’s shield and blade with pride now. Those now belong to our daughter, may she someday wield them well.”
“If ’tis half as well as her mother, there can be no doubt,” I said softly, meaning every word as I gazed into her eyes, proud of her in that moment just as I knew I would be every moment for the rest of our lives.
Much still lay ahead, and times changed more rapidly than ever, but we would change with them for the betterment of our country.
Our daughter and all our children to follow would be born into a time of old ways meeting new ways, and the time of Scots and Vikings and ancestors of old would eventually fade into the past.
Yet as I carried my wife to bed later that night and made love until we watched the sun rise together, we sensed only good things to come and a bright new future where our great-grandchildren might flourish.
A horizon we could never have imagined, given our pasts, but one that would keep Norway strong and peace washing up on our shores far into the future.
The End