Chapter 20 #2
“The healing spring will wash away all traces of the curse and restore you.” Sigurd helped her remove the emerald green gown and linen chemise underneath, folding and placing them on the soft grass.
Quickly shedding his own tunic and breeches, he grasped her hand and guided her into the shimmering pool.
Tenderly, he laid her back in his arms, dipping her long hair beneath the effervescent surface where the bubbling underground spring rose beneath their bare feet. He lathered her hair with the fragrant soap, rinsed away the suds, then bathed her entire body with solemn devotion.
“Let me bathe you now,” she whispered, unbraiding the lapis beads from his beard and hair. She took the soap from his scarred hand, and he dipped beneath the water to wet his dark blond locks.
With loving fingers, she worked lather into his scalp, holding him in one arm to rinse his hair with the other. Just as he had done for her, she bathed his rugged, inked body with edelweiss soap, tracing the glowing ouroboros above his heart with tenderness and wonder.
When they emerged from the pool, her body tingled, as if the nurturing essence of the earth and sacred spring had seeped into her skin, bones, and blood. “I cannot wait for us to be wed here. It is the perfect place to seal our starlit vows.”
They dried quickly, the crisp alpine air filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers which she would gather tomorrow and weave into her bridal wreath. Gathering their clothing and the lapis beads, they dashed across the meadow and into their secluded stone cottage.
He stoked the fire, adding another log to ward off the chill.
She combed his hair and beard, rebraiding the lapis beads, the deep blue gems sparkling in the firelight.
As she combed her own long locks, he watched, his feral gaze raw, primal, and fierce.
When she’d finished, he drew her toward him, laying her gently on the bed.
And made love to her, rekindling the ouroboros which bound their two souls.
In the early light of dawn, they shared passion again, then joined the monks for the morning meal. Later, when Sigurd helped Kveld, Tryggvi, and Hálfdan finish the work on the stone wall, Brynhildr gathered the wildflowers for her headpiece—and the third gift for the trio of goddesses.
Wild thyme, with its fragrant purple flowers. Spring gentian, its vibrant blue to match my wedding gown. And periwinkle, the sweet smelling blooms a blend of purple and blue. A trio of blossoms for my wreath… and for Jore, to honor her sacred spring.
Blárúlfr’s fur gleamed in the sunlight as Brynhildr wove the flowers into the oval shaped wreath of linden twigs interwoven with verdant vines of ivy. When the bridal headpiece was finished, she assembled the gifts for the goddesses.
Three alpine blossoms for Jore. A trio of herbs for Eir. And a trinity of seeds for Frigg. Three gifts for three goddesses. The sacred number nine of the Norns.
At dinner that evening in the refectory, Sigurd announced their plans for departure.
“We shall leave at dawn tomorrow,” he told Brother Pierre, who translated for the other monks and Père Clément.
“My bride and I, along with my men, wish to convey our gratitude once again.” He placed a small bag of silver coins on the table. “Please accept this with our thanks.”
The elderly abbot accepted the silver and through Brother Pierre, thanked them in return for repairing the damaged stone wall. He offered them supplies for their journey to Hlymdalir, which they would load on the horses’ saddles at first light.
When the monks retired shortly after sunset, and the full moon rose over the alpine valley, Sigurd bathed Brynhildr for the third and final time in the sacred spring, completing the ritual to cleanse away Odin’s curse of frozen sleep.
Inside the cottage, they dressed for the wedding while outside, Kveld Nightwolf started a small fire in a stone enclosure near the waterfall pool.
Sigurd donned a deep blue tunic and grey woolen breeches, the lapis beads braided into his hair and beard glinting in the flickering hearth light.
He removed the ouroboros ring from the smallest finger of his left hand and tied it to the snarling wolf hilt of his reforged sword Gramr. “This ring once belonged to a dwarf—it’s far too small for my huge hand, yet perfect for your slender finger.
” He tied the gold dragon band with glittering emerald eyes to the snarling wolf head hilt of his reforged sword, using the same deep blue ribbon with which he had braided their two locks of hair.
Sheathing the blade in its wolfskin scabbard embellished with lapis beads and runes, he laid Gramr reverently atop the bed and draped Blárúlfr over his broad shoulders.
The blue-grey fur shimmered in the firelight, echoing the glint of beads in his glorious golden hair and beard—and the eyes of the fierce wolf in his ornate silver brooch.
Brynhildr slipped into the deep blue gown, silver embroidery tracing the neckline and elegant sleeves, shaped like graceful wings.
She wrapped the indigo cloak trimmed with silver fox fur over her dress, securing it with a leather loop at her throat.
When she placed the bridal wreath atop her braided blonde locks, Sigurd smiled and softly kissed her lips.
“My beautiful bride…how I love you.” He murmured into her parted mouth, sharing her eager breath. “I am yours forevermore. In this life and the next.”
She stroked his bearded cheek and kissed his full lips. “And I am yours, my Sea Wolf. Forevermore.” With a strip of blue ribbon, she tied the golden wedding band that Kveld had crafted to the hilt of her Sólfalkr sword, sheathing it in its amber-embellished scabbard etched with falcons and runes.
Sigurd retrieved the braided band of their blond hair from the bedside table, the deep blue ribbon and trio of azure gems glittering in the moonlight through the open window.
Tucking it into his belt, he lifted Gramr and Sólfalkr from the bed while Brynhildr gathered the offerings for the trio of goddesses.
He opened the wooden door for her with a reassuring smile. “Come, my love…it’s time for our moonlit wedding.”
Black wolfskin cloak gleaming beneath the stars, Kveld stood waiting near the dark pool where incandescent light rippled on the surface and the soft rush of the waterfall whispered in the cool night air.
Nearby, a small fire flickered inside a circular hearth of smooth stones.
Standing atop a large flat rock, a silver chalice embellished with amber beads and etched with blackened runes glistened in the firelight.
At their approach, Tryggvi strode forward and took Sólfalkr, with Sigurd’s wedding band attached to its falcon hilt, while Hálfdan accepted Gramr, tied with her ouroboros dragon ring.
Brynhildr bowed before the Nightwolf, reverently laying the gifts for the goddesses on the grass at Kveld’s feet. The alpine blossoms, aromatic herbs, and fertile seeds glimmered in the moonlight, their fragrance mingling with the waterfall mist of the sacred spring.
She joined Sigurd, standing at his side before the towering, tattooed vitki. The amber eyes of the black wolf in the cloak atop Kveld’s dark head glowed golden in the silvery light.
The rumble of the Nightwolf’s deep lupine voice reverberated into Brynhildr’s bones.
“A trio of gifts we offer Jore, Eir, and Frigg. Three goddesses who witness this moonlit wedding by the sacred Lindsvier spring.”
From the grass at his feet, Kveld lifted the trio of alpine flowers—wild thyme, spring gentian, and periwinkle, the same blooms as in Brynhildr’s bridal wreath—and floated them on the sparkling pool. “Three blossoms for Jore, Goddess of the Earth, to honor the healing waters of this sacred spring.”
Kveld returned to collect the wild rosemary, sage, and mint, drifting them into the waterfall pool. “A trio of herbs for Eir, Goddess of Healing, to bless your union with health and strength.”
Finally, the wolfskin-clad vitki offered the trio of seeds into the shimmering spring. “And three seeds for Frigg, Goddess of Marriage, to guide your love and your life together.”
He lowered his large hands in a slow, solemn gesture to the triad of offerings. “With these gifts to Jore, Eir, and Frigg, we seek their divine blessing for this moonlit wedding of Brynhildr and Sigurd.”
With the offerings complete, Kveld gestured to the swords.
Tryggvi presented Sólfalkr, and Brynhildr untied the wedding band which Kveld had crafted for Sigurd. The emerald, amber, and lapis gems glittered amidst blackened images of the falcon, wolf, and dragon etched into the glowing gold.
“Speak your vow,” Kveld told her as she took hold of Sigurd’s calloused hand and slid the ring onto the third finger of his left hand.
Her voice trembled as much as her legs beneath the deep blue gown. “Sigurd… my Sea Wolf, with this ring, I take you as my husband. I vow to love you and only you, in this life and the next. I am yours, forevermore.”
Kveld nodded to Hálfdan, who proudly held Gramr laid flat across his outstretched arms.
Sigurd untied the ouroboros ring, the emerald eyes of the dragon glittering in the moonlight.
Seier sizzled through the soulbound rune above her fluttering heart.
He slipped the band onto her finger and declared his vows. “Brynhildr… my Sun Falcon, with this ring, I take you as my wife. My heart belongs only to you. I vow that in this life and the next, I am yours… forevermore.”