Chapter 10 #2
Jaskka carefully withdrew the flute and unwrapped the deep blue wool—the same vivid color as his tunic, the fjord, and the sea.
The spirit eyes painted on his chalk white brow glistened in the firelight, watching from the Otherworld.
Jaskka ran reverent fingers over the pale, smooth bone which glowed softly in the moonlight.
He lifted the flute to his lips and played a haunting, ethereal melody.
His all-seeing eyes transfixed Haldor as he lowered the flute in awe.
“It plays the song of the sea. Through the spirit voice of the áhkká.” He meticulously wrapped the whalebone instrument inside the blue wool and tucked it back into the grey leather pouch, admiring the symbols carved into the gleaming sealskin.
When he spoke to Haldor, his hushed voice was as deep and still as the fjord.
“You have honored me with this gift. The sea will forever sing your name.”
Jaskka stood and tucked the flute into the belt at his waist as Haldor rose to his feet as well. Jaskka gripped Haldor’s forearms, then pulled him into a brief but heartfelt embrace. He then turned to help Máret stand, indicating his intent to retire for the evening.
Máret wrapped one arm around Haldor, clutching her container of honey with the other, resting her head against his chest as tears spilled down her crinkled cheeks.
“I will miss you, son. It is hard to say goodbye after having you among us for so long.” She kissed his bearded cheek and turned her kind eyes to Skjold.
“And you have been like a second son. It saddens me to see you go.”
Skjold cradled Máret against his white bearskin cloak and kissed the top of her head. “I will miss you very much. And I am eternally grateful for all that you have done.”
The four other men followed Jaskka’s lead and rose to their feet, ready to head home to their respective huts.
They shook hands with Haldor and Skjold, agreeing to meet in the morning.
After breaking their fast, they would load a few supplies onto the ship, unfurl the dragon sail, and voyage to V?gan to meet the Blóesmier crew.
Haldor and Skjold said goodnight to all and entered the làvvu which they had shared for the past two summers. Inside the reindeer hide tent, a stone-enclosed fire burned in the center, the curls of smoke slipping through the opening of the high peak, out into the frosty autumn air.
“Jaskka and Máret were pleased with our gifts.” Skjold stood his Dwarven shield against the side of the tent. He removed his bearskin cloak and chain mail armor, laying them atop the wooden chest where he stored his personal items.
“Indeed they were. I’m proud of you for offering the spirit boat to Jaskka.
A truly honorable gift.” Haldor leaned his ísfálkr spear against a wooden pole supporting the tent, then shed his reindeer cloak and falcon armor, which he laid over his own wooden trunk.
He poured water from a pitcher into a basin to clean his face with a cloth and his teeth with a willow brush.
While Skjold washed in his own basin, Haldor retrieved the bronze box from his belt and crossed the tent to show him the wedding rings.
“A gift from Dvalinn. Freyja’s Eyes. Made from the same amber as her Brisingamen necklace.
” He handed the box to Skjold, who examined the glowing gems and intricate runes inscribed inside the golden bands.
Skjold beamed from ear to ear. “You plan to ask úlvhild again?” He knew that she’d already refused Haldor twice.
And that his late grandfather, King Harald, and his uncle Swey were anxious for Haldor to wed the daughter of the Jarl of Orkneyjar, for a powerful political alliance of Viking forces.
He closed the box and returned it to Haldor, who tucked it back into the belt at his waist.
“I do indeed. On the winter solstice, when we celebrate Jól in the Pays de Caux.” Haldor returned to the pile of blankets and furs where he slept, removing his belt and placing it on the leather floor of the tent beside his comfortable bed.
“Skadi wants me to come to álfheim on the night of the winter solstice.” Skjold’s white teeth gleamed in the firelight. “You and I shall both be with our soulbound mates. I cannot wait to see her again.”
“Nor can I. It has been eight long winters. I pray she’ll accept me this time. I have no desire whatsoever to wed Svanhild,” Haldor scoffed, referring to the jarl’s daughter. “Or anyone else, for that matter. My heart, body, soul—and magic—are all bound solely to úlvhild.”
Skjold laid down on his bed and nestled into his pile of furs. “It will be good to see the Blóesmier again. We’ll arrive in V?gan by midmorning. That will give Niillas and the others time to row back to the village before nightfall.”
“We’ll share a meal, so they have time to rest before heading back.
And I agree, it will be good to see Gr?skegg and the crew again.
” Haldor reclined on his own bed, pulling furs and blankets over his shoulder.
He sighed with a contradictory blend of exhaustion and exhilaration.
“I cannot wait to return to the Pays de Caux.”
Soon, Skold snored softly, but Haldor, despite his fatigue, felt a restless energy and warmth from the fjorún mark which bound him to úlvhild.
He pulled back the furs to look at his chest, where the seierfjáer—the violet spiral of her seier magic inside his falcon feather—glowed amidst the magical tattoos shimmering across his chest. As if his thoughts had conjured her, úlvhild’s voice floated into Haldor’s receptive mind.
“Haldor, heed my call. Do not sail to the Land of the White Chalk Cliffs.. Come at once to Fálkholl. Meet me in the Faroe Islands.”