Chapter 19 #2
I shall bear your children, stand with you, and walk beside you.
All my days beneath sun and stars.
Let this ring bear witness to my oath.
To love and honor you in this life and the next.”
Elfi took the silver platter draped with ermine fur upon which rested her shieldmaiden sword from Lugh and solemnly handed it to Njord.
“I accept your sword, your ring, and your vow.” He received the platter from Elfi with a bow of his dark head, and handed it to úlf, the sword bearer who proudly stood at his side.
The goei dipped the sacred ash twig into the silver bowl once again and anointed Elfi and Njord with the sacrificial blood. “With the exchange of swords, vows, and rings—and the blood blessing of the gods—I bind you as one, beneath sun and stars.”
Having anointed the bridal couple, the priest stepped toward the Ljosálfar queen, reverently dipped the ash twig in the silver bowl, and painted a droplet of blood on íssla’s luminous brow.
He then blood-blessed úlf and Lugh, the sword bearers who held the exchanged blades, for Sif had given the platter she had been holding back to Lugh.
Circulating among the standing guests who had witnessed the royal wedding, the goei blessed each bowed forehead with the blood of the sacrificial goat.
He then strode across the polished floor of the Crystal Hall, long white robe swishing like silk, and tossed dark berries and translucent tears of resin into the crackling fire.
As the crisp pine scent of juniper mingled with the earthy spice of myrrh, the pagan priest poured the remainder of the sacred blood into the flickering flames of the rune-inscribed stone hearth.
ólaf One-Eye had sent for a Christian priest in the village at Njord’s request, to sanctify the marriage so that the Frankish Count of Soissons could not claim that their pagan wedding was invalid.
Bald pate of his tonsured head glistening in the firelight, the white-robed priest blessed Elfi and Njord with fingers dipped in holy water from a shining bronze bowl he clutched in his bare hands.
With a fervent voice filled with conviction, he proclaimed to the gathered throng, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I pronounce you husband and wife. Your marriage is hereby blessed by the One True God and sanctified by the Christian Church.”
The queen’s attendants wove through the standing crowd, distributing crystal goblets of golden Moonflower mead to all the wedding guests.
Once everyone—including the goei and the priest—had been served, íssla proposed a wedding toast. “Honored kin and cherished friends, tonight we have witnessed the binding of two hearts, the entwining of two fates. As Ljósálfar Queen and mother of the groom, I offer the first cup.” She raised her golden goblet high, prompting the jubilant throng to follow her lead.
“To the seas that brought them together,
To the vows that bind them as one.
To the gods who bless this sacred union.
Beneath the starlit stone of íslyra.”
íssla inclined her crowned head to the newly married couple.
“To Elfi and Njord. May love light your path, and joy fill your hearts. On this wedding night, and forevermore.”
With hearty shouts of “Skál!”, the wedding guests toasted Elfi and Njord.
At the far end of the Crystal Hall, royal attendants opened a pair of elegant twin doors of carved moonstone and embedded crystal, revealing a golden light which beckoned with the tantalizing aroma of delectable fare and the inviting allure of music.
Queen íssla lifted her goblet once more. “Let wedding joy fill the Moonstone Hall,” she proclaimed, her voice clear as a clarion bell. “May the sumptuous feast begin.”
Hands clasped, wedding rings glittering in the golden light, Elfi and Njord led the procession and followed the radiant queen into the glorious feast.
Inside the vast chamber, high walls of pale moonstone glowed with radiant inner light.
Through tall arched windows, slivers of moonlight illuminated long tables draped in forest green.
Silver platters were piled with roasted meats, grilled fish, and fresh vegetables steamed with aromatic herbs.
Vases of fragrant white flowers and beeswax candles emitted a sweet floral scent, and crystal containers of golden mead sparkled in the firelight from blazing hearths encased in moonstone on opposite walls of the opulent hall.
The queen’s attendants escorted íssla to the elevated dais at the far end of the chamber. Etched with silvery runes and adorned with glittering gildir gems, the queen’s moonstone throne was flanked on each side by a pair of elaborately decorated frosted ashwood chairs.
While the queen regally stood before her throne and watched the wedding guests enter the Moonstone Hall, sentinels ushered Elfi and Njord to the queen’s right, where their bridal seats were adorned with soft white blossoms and silvery silk.
úlvhild and Haldor were seated on the queen’s left.
Their chairs, carved from pale ashwood, bore sacred rowan boughs bound in dark green ribbon with sprigs of juniper and fragrant wild thyme.
Fluid notes from lutes, lyres, harps, and flutes floated through the festive air as guests imbibed in Moonflower mead and savored the sumptuous fare.
The feast was superb—a delightful blend of Ljósálfar fruits, fish, berries, nuts, and bread, to restore magic and renew spiritual strength—and hearty meats, rich sauces, and roasted roots for humans and wolves alike.
And when the feasting was finished, Skjold told the tale of how he and Haldor had defended a dwarf’s treasure and hoard of Dwarven weapons.
As he had done in Siguresholl, he demonstrated the extraordinary power of his ísfir shield by projecting a plume of frostfire flame into a moonstone hearth.
He explained how Haldor had freed a young woman named Skadi by killing her Dokkálfar guard on the attacking enemy ship.
And how the Falcon of the Faroe Islands now wielded the ísfálkr spear.
“Skadi also granted me the power to summon her in battle.” Haldor attracted the attention of íssla’s enthralled wedding guests. “For she is half Ljósálfar and half jotunn. A Light Elven healer who can transform into a frostdragon.”
úlvhild waited until the murmurs of excitement quieted and expectation hung heavy in the silent hall.
“I have foreseen a battle.” As her cryptic voice echoed off the moonstone walls, a ripple of unease swept across the hushed crowd.
“The Dokkálfar who attacked the dwarf’s cave were seeking Dwarven weapons to thwart a prophecy.
” She leaned forward to look at Njord, seated on the opposite side of the queen.
“Now that Njord has reclaimed úlfsongr, they will attack us here. To seize the Dwarven sword and avenge a slain Dokkálfar. By slaying the Ljósálfar Lord of Starlight.”
Gasps swept through the hall like wind upon water.
“If this is true, Ildris, you must seek shelter at once in álfheim, where the Dokkálfar may not tread.” Queen íssla warned the copper-haired Light Elf, seated between Luna and Lugh at the Ljósálfar table of honor.
“Nei, my queen, I cannot.” Ildris arose from his seat and bowed before his queen.
He straightened his broad back and regarded íssla with a reverent but resolute stare.
“I turned the Dokkálfar silversmith Nithrak to stone with the gildir gem of my brooch. Since I yet retain traces of that solar radiance, his brother Gúldur will track me down.” Ildris directed his compelling, otherworldly gaze to Njord.
“I must lure Gúldur to Njord,” he declared, his deep voice filled with conviction.
“For the White Wolf to fulfill the fateful prophecy. And slay the Dókkálfar Blacksmith of Dorestad.” Ildris raised his crystal goblet to Njord.
“May Odin guide your prophesied blade. And Dokkálfar shadow fall to Dwarven steel.”