Chapter 1 #3
As M?htte rejoined the Láhpi tribe gathered around the fire, the skilled hunter and trapper Niillas approached Skjold with a full-length cloak made from the fur of an enormous white bear.
Along the collar and edges of the sleeves, the Nordic rune Laguz was embroidered amongst bear claws and stars in shimmery silver thread.
Upon the left shoulder, just above the heart, the majestic cloak fastened with a braided leather loop and a silver toggle engraved with runes and adorned with a lapis lazuli stone to match Skjold’s spirit ring.
Lined with supple seal skin for flexibility and warmth, the fur cloak would be ideal for the harsh climate of the wild north of Norway.
Jaskka rose to his feet, adjusting his own antler headpiece, his reindeer fur cloak, and his belt with suspended bones, teeth, and claws.
He accepted the bearskin cloak from Niillas with a reverent nod, draped it around Skjold’s shoulders, and fastened the lapis lazuli clasp.
His deep voice echoed between the craggy cliffs across the silent, starlit fjord.
“Skjold Sk?rdesson, known as the Son of the Dragon, you are a fierce Viking warrior who has become a noaidi. In creating your spirit name, I shall blend the rune of Laguz— for your Nordic heritage and ancestral gift of sight through water—with your new Sámi title of noaidi. From now on, you shall be called Lagudi. The one who walks the spirit paths of water.”
Skjold’s spirit soared like the pale grey sea bird drifting high above the fjord on a cold, rising wind.
Jaskka extended his hands, palms up, toward the sacred fjord as he announced to the tribe, “Tonight, the áhkká spirits have spoken. Lagudi is no longer a seeker—but is now a noaidi. Let all who have witnessed this ritual bear the truth. May we honor the spirits with a sacred feast.”
Two large reindeer were roasting on spits over open fires, the delicious aroma of grilled meat wafting in the crisp saline air.
While several men quickly set wooden planks atop large stones to create makeshift tables, covering them with woolen blankets and animal pelts, others carved the cooked meat and heaped it onto wooden platters for the tribe to share.
Women scurried into their lávvu—tents made from reindeer hide—to fetch wooden bowls of wild lingonberries, platters of smoked salmon, and stacks of flatbread made from barley.
As the women set the food and pitchers of mead upon the tables, the tribe gathered around for Jaskka to make a tribute and special offering to the spirits.
Skjold stood near the fire with his mentor, Haldor Falk, proudly displaying the gifts he had received to commemorate becoming a noaidi.
The reindeer antler headpiece was firmly centered over his blond braided locks.
His warrior body was warmly wrapped inside the magnificent white bearskin fur, and the lapis lazuli spirit ring pulsed on the calloused center finger of his left hand.
In solemn silence, Skjold watched with members of the Láhpi tribe as Jaskka poured a cup of golden mead from a wooden pitcher, then methodically tore open a section of flatbread, tucking inside a slice of reindeer meat, a few lingonberries, and a succulent piece of smoked salmon.
With majestic ceremony, the elder noaidi carried the offering down to the frost-covered shore of the icy fjord, placing the overflowing bread on the sand beside the boat that had transported Skjold on his spirit journey into the realm of water.
Jaskka faced the sacred fjord and the towering cliffs, raising his weathered face and mug of mead toward the starry night sky. His deep voice resounded across the icy waters, echoing against the snow-capped stone.
“Ancestors who walk beside us in the wind, sea, and stars,
We call upon you now, as we prepare this feast.
Guide the soul of the new spirit walker, Lagudi,
And protect the people of our Láhpi tribe.
O spirits of the land, sea, and sky,
Accept this humble offering,
And grant us strength, prosperity, wisdom, and peace."
The elder noaidi poured the golden mead into the sea while the tribe watched in hushed stillness.
When Jaskka rejoined the group gathered near the fire, his wife Máret approached and took his hand, leading him to the center of the table.
Once he ceremoniously consumed a slice of reindeer meat, the tribe cheered as the feasting, music, and dancing began.
While musicians played willow flutes, plucked lyres, and chanted a joik song of celebration, the women of the tribe circulated, pouring mead into cups for the adults and a lingonberry and honey brew for the children.
Jaskka invited Skjold and Haldor to sit with him and Máret on reindeer hides spread over the frosted ground.
M?htte, Niillas, and Ellef joined them upon the softened furs.
Their plates filled with sizzling meat, smoked fish, fresh berries, and barley bread, Skjold and his mentor Haldor settled down onto the thick pelts beside the noaidi and his attentive wife whose pale blue eyes sparkled in the firelight.
Jaskka washed down a mouthful of salmon with a swallow mead. He eyed Skjold with obvious curiosity tempered with patience and wisdom. “Tell us about your spirit journey. What did you learn in the realm of water?”
Skjold’s muscles still twitched from the thrill of traveling through water and communicating with the áhkká. He gulped from his goblet to quench his parched throat before relating the incredible otherworldly visions he had foreseen inside the waterfall cave.
“My spirit voyaged to a distant land where a magnificent waterfall cascaded from a mountain into a hidden sea cave. Near the entrance to the grotto, I glimpsed two glowing female figures—the spirits of my grandmother Lova and my great-grandmother Sprota —who beckoned me to come inside. There, I met Divona, the Celtic Goddess of Sacred Springs, whom my mother Ylva once worshipped inside that very cave. The goddess wordlessly told me to use my inherited gift and look into the same freshwater pool where my mother had once foreseen her own fate.”
His hand shaking, Skjold drained his wooden mug of mead, composing his thoughts as Máret refilled his goblet.
He nodded in gratitude, then continued his tale.
“In the vision, I beheld a snow-capped mountain on an island enshrouded by mists and encircled by an icy fjord. At its base, under the overhang of a craggy cliff, there is a cave where a dwarf lives with a trove of treasure and a hoard of magical weapons. Amongst them, I spotted a glimmering shield with a fiery blue stone which spoke to my soul as the words of the volva’s prophecy floated into my mind.
You, Son of the Dragon, must shield the cape and defend the future crown. ”
Skjold turned toward Haldor, who regarded him with keen interest and the piercing eyes of a peregrine falcon.
“I must wield that Dwarven shield to fulfill the prophecy. And I must warn the dwarf of an impending attack. For in the vision, I also foresaw a snekkja longship with a raven prow and a black sail headed directly toward the dwarf’s cave.
Rus raiders plan to strike, seize the dwarf’s treasure and weapons, and prevent me from fulfilling the prophecy.
” He ran his right thumb pensively over the spirit ring which pulsed on his left hand.
Skjold glanced up, fervently searching Jaskka’s contemplative, chalk-painted face.
“How do I find this mist-covered island? How can I even approach a dwarf? And how can I possibly obtain the Dwarven shield that I have foreseen in the vision?”
Jaskka wiped his bearded mouth with a tuft of pale green moss, which he tossed into the fire.
His pale blue eyes sparkled like ice lit from within, ablaze with the embers of ancient knowledge.
“The fjord wraps around these islands like the protective arms of ancestral guardians. Use the wisdom gleaned in your spirit journey. Wield your inherited gift of sight through water as the spirits of the áhkká guide you.” The otherworldly eyes etched upon the noaidi’s painted brow observed Skjold from a distant realm as Jaskka turned toward Haldor, his deep voice reverberating with whispered echoes from beyond the veil.
“Lagudi must seek the dwarf’s abode in the small boat which he crafted for his spirit journey.
You must accompany him—in the form of a falcon.
The dwarf will be amazed by a noaidi who commands a wild, winged creature—and even more astounded when you assume human form as a Viking vitki.
He will invite you both into his cave, where Lagudi can warn him of the danger.
And you, Falcon of the Faroe Islands, must wield your avian magic to defend the dwarf and his priceless weapons.
” Jaskka’s sapphire gaze blazed like starlight frozen in flame.
“As a reward for saving his life and invaluable treasure, the dwarf shall bestow upon each of you an incomparable gift of gratitude.”
Knees cracking, Jaskka rose slowly to his feet and stretched his lanky, aging limbs.
As M?htte, Niillas, and Ellef congratulated Skjold and wandered off to join the revelry, the elder noaidi reached for his wife’s hand and helped her to a stand.
“Come, my love. Let us dance under the stars.” Jaskka spoke to Haldor and Skjold, a grin stretching across his chalk white painted face.
“Tonight, we rejoice. Tomorrow, you leave at first light.”
Skjold gazed out at the dark depths where moonglow and the Norerljós—the green and violet northern lights reflecting off the shields of the Valkyries soaring through the starlit night sky —shimmered on the icy, sacred fjord.
Tomorrow, he would wield once again his inherited gift of sight through water and summon the ákkhá to discover the dwarf’s hidden cave.
His heart thundered like Mjollnir, hammering the anvil of fate.