Chapter 30
King and Queen of Lindesnes
As wedding guests filed into the Great Hall amidst lively melodies from lyres and lutes, Sigurd sat at the high table beside Budli and Brynhildr, reflecting how the Norns had tightly interwoven the intricate threads of fate.
In the hidden Dwarven forge, Gramr had been reborn with úlfblóer’s wolf head hilt.
Wielding the reforged blade, Sigurd had slain Fáfnir and seized the dragon’s hoard of treasure.
He’d avenged his faeir, reclaimed the Volsung crown, and had saved Brynhildr from the Ring of Fire and Odin’s frozen curse.
And now, at long last, she was here beside him, his beloved bride and crowned queen.
As their eyes met and he lifted her pale hand to his lips, the ouroboros above his Sea Wolf heart blazed with dragonfire.
Seated with them on the elevated royal dais were Agnar, Yrsa, and Kveld.
At Budli’s left, Princess Dagny took her place, with álfr and Hjordis completing the nine honored guests.
On the pinewood floor below, the visiting jarls, kings, and the volva Eldsjá gathered at a royal table, ready to present gifts to the bride and groom.
Across the central hearth where flames flickered like molten gold, three skálds prepared to sing songs they had composed for the royal wedding.
At a nearby elegant table, the Christian priest and his two acolytes exchanged uneasy glances, clearly unaccustomed to a Norse feast of roaring warriors and jubilant kings.
Wolfskins glinting in the firelight, the Sjórúlfar were assembled at a table of honor with the goei and his two acolytes, while Tryggvi, Hálfdan, Ulric Ironshield, and the high-ranking húskarlar took their seats among warriors and wives, eager for the feast to begin.
Budli rose from his raven-carved ondvegi, the beads in his braided russet beard gleaming like the gems in his crown. At the rustle of his black cloak, unfurling like raven wings, a hush swept across the rapt crowd. His deep, rich voice rolled over the throng like rumbled thunder.
“Raise your horns high, wedding guests of Hrafnfjall! Today we honor not only the bride and groom, but the bonds of blood, honor, and valor. To Sigurd Sea Wolf, Dragonslayer King, and my Sun Falcon dóttir Brynhildr, Dragonslayer’s Valkyrie and Volsung Queen.
All hail the newly crowned rulers of Lindesnes!
May their reign be long, their courage fierce, and their love endure beyond fate and flame! ”
As riotous cheers rose to the rafters, Budli lifted his horn of golden mead, and the hall drank to the royal couple.
When the crowd quieted, the Raven King continued.
“And now, before we feast in joy and celebration, let the visiting kings and jarls present their gifts to King Sigurd and Queen Brynhildr, to honor their new bonds of fealty to Lindesnes!”
One by one, the nine kings and jarls approached the royal dais in turn, offering gifts of jeweled swords and shields, fine tapestries, intricately carved ivory, exotic spices, silks, and furs, each symbolizing their loyalty and respect for Sigurd and Brynhildr as the newly crowned rulers of Lindesnes.
Budli offered a pair of ornate silver and gold drinking horns, each engraved with the snarling wolf with sapphire eyes and pair of ravens with amber orbs, the Volsung sigils of Lindesnes.
King álfr and Queen Hjordis offered a trunk of finely crafted garments for Sigurd, and a wooden chest of elegant silk and embroidered woolen gowns for Brynhildr.
“Fitting attire for king and queen.” álfr flashed Sigurd a wolfish grin.
Agnar offered them each a gold arm ring to match his own, engraved with the images of a bear, wolf, and falcon. “To symbolize the three of us… bound by blood, breath, and blade.” His deep, rough voice rumbled with raw emotion.
Kveld offered an emerald talisman pendant suspended from a black leather cord.
The silver casing which enclosed the faceted gem was inscribed with the same trio of runes—Geibo, Raido, and Kaun—as the triple bindrune he’d carved on úlfalkr’s deck, upon the shore beneath Brynhildr’s tower, and inside Sigurd’s wedding band.
“For your dóttir áslaug,” he murmured with reverence and respect.
“To protect her with the same seier that binds your two souls.” The Nightwolf’s deep voice was rich and mellow as a lute when he spoke to Brynhildr. “Wear it now, to guard the babe in your womb. When áslaug becomes a maiden, and her seier spirit awakens to the wisdom of her wolf, falcon, and dragon blood, the emerald talisman shall pass to her.”
Yrsa, the last to present a royal gift, rose from her seat beside Brynhildr and lifted the emerald talisman Kveld had placed upon the high table.
The volva’s deep blue face, painted with black runes, glistened in the golden light of the midnight sun streaming through the narrow windows.
She cradled the pendant between her inked hands, whispering words of enchantment that Sigurd could not comprehend.
Firelight shimmered in the deep green stone as the hall fell strangely still.
At last she placed the charm in Brynhildr’s hand. “For áslaug,” the volva murmured softly. “May Freyja guard her granddaughter’s fated path.”
As tears of gratitude welled in Brynhildr’s blue-green eyes, Sigurd secured the black leather cord behind her neck. The large oval faceted stone glittered like the emerald eyes of the dragon in the wedding ring upon her hand.
Above Sigurd’s Sea Wolf heart, the ouroboros sizzled with dragonfire.
Budli rose once again from his ondvegi and lifted his raven-carved, rune-inscribed elkhorn. “Our thanks to the kings, jarls, vitki, and volva who have honored my dóttir and her husband with such noble gifts.” A hearty grin split his thick red beard. “Now let the feast begin!”
At his command, musicians began to play anew, and thralls hurried from the kitchens, bearing steaming platters of roasted ox and salted boar, succulent seafood and grilled fish, and loaves of freshly baked barley bread with nut-encrusted soft cheese.
As the mead flowed and the revelry returned, the quiet hall burst into laughter, clattering cups, and the roar of hungry guests.
Brynhildr sipped from her elkhorn and leaned close to Sigurd. “I wish Heimir could have come to our wedding, but I understand how he dared not leave Hlymdalir unguarded, with Gunnar and Hogni likely to seek revenge.”
Sigurd swallowed a mouthful of savory meat, washing it down with golden mead.
He leaned forward to address Kveld as he replied to Brynhildr. “We’ll send ships to reinforce Heimir and help him defend the Camargue, should they attempt an attack.
” He wiped his beard with the back of his hand.
“While there, we can retrieve our horses. I’m sure you miss Skug as much as I do Grani.
And Tryggvi and Hálfdan need their warhorses, too—in case the Burgundians strike Norway. ”
Budli grinned, the gems in his russet beard glinting in the golden light. “With nine kings and jarls sworn to your side, you need not fear Gunnar or Hogni. Lindesnes shall be well guarded while you hold the Volsung throne.”
álfr leaned forward to speak to Sigurd. “My Sjórúlfar—and your own newly trained Sea Wolves—will stand ready. Together, we are stronger than any who would challenge you.”
As Budli directed his attention back to Dagny, and álfr conversed quietly with Hjordis, Brynhildr spoke softly into Sigurd’s ear.
“I’m delighted that Helgi will serve as one of your new Sea Wolves,” she said, her eyes glittering like the emerald at the base of her pale throat.
“Astrid will come with Inga and Yrsa—to be my midwives. She and Helgi can wed, and live with us in Lindesnes. Inga and Astrid are like móeir and systir to me.” She glanced at her jovial faeir, clearly enchanted with the lovely Dagny at his side.
“Soon, there will be another royal wedding at Hrafnfjall,” she quipped with an impish grin.
“Dagny will bring her own attendants—so Yrsa, Inga, and Astrid may live with us.”
Sigurd was pleased that a trio of competent midwives would assist Brynhildr with the birth.
He would have his Sea Wolves to defend Lindesnes, and she would have her women to nurture her and their beloved babe.
He lifted her hand to his lips and smiled, just as Budli rose from his ondvegi once again.
The Raven King’s booming voice bellowed through the hall, silencing the clamor of the festive crowd.
A magnanimous grin split his russet beard.
“And now, to celebrate the union of our newly crowned Volsung King and Queen, a trio of skálds shall raise their voices in song!” Black cloak unfurling like raven wings, he gestured to the poets’ table below the royal dais.
“First, Skúli, royal skáld of King álfr, whose verses carry the courage of Sea Wolves across stormy seas.”
Wolf skin wrapped around his rowan crown, Sjórúlfar fur trimming his deep blue cloak, lapis beads braided into his chestnut hair and beard, Skúli stepped forward and bowed to the high table as the rapt hall fell silent.
Budli presented the second bard. “Next, Kjartan, my own silver-tongued skáld, whose songs have stirred the hearts of countless kings.”
Coppery hair and braided beard as fiery as the Raven King he served, Kjartan bowed, crimson cloak shimmering like fine red wine. His long, slender fingers danced over the strings of his gold-painted lyre, the inscribed ravens and runes glinting amidst amber suns.
“And the final royal skáld,” Budli boomed with a fierce grin, “is Hrólfr, newly chosen by our Dragonslayer King Sigurd and his Sun Falcon Queen Brynhildr, who will sing their glorious wedding song!”
Skúli entertained the wedding guests with “Sea Wolf King and Sun Falcon Queen”, honoring Sigurd and Brynhildr, the newly crowned Volsung rulers of Lindesnes.