Chapter 23
Freyja’s Bloom
The mouth of the cave was narrow, opening into a rounded chamber where light filtered through fissures in the roof which would also allow smoke to escape.
Moonstone veins glimmered faintly in the dark rock, casting a soft, silvery glow.
On the back wall, a natural stone shelf jutted out, as if the mountain had shaped it just for úlvhild.
Haldor and Skjold carried her into the cave and gently set her down upon the stone floor.
While Skjold started a fire in a recessed area under a crack in the roof, Haldor spread dried moss and lichens in a curved alcove near the back, covering them with blankets and furs to make a plush bed.
When it was ready, he cradled her in his arms, carrying her to the back of the cave, where he settled her onto the soft pile.
He loosened and removed the straps which had held the blankets snugly wrapped around her for the climb.
As Skjold coaxed the fire into a steady roar, Gr?skegg unloaded the supplies, setting the bowls, cups, and food items upon the stone shelf.
“There’s a sack of barley here for pottage.
Lingonberries and hazelnuts, too. And dried reindeer meat.
” He admired the neatly stacked supplies, nodding in approval.
“That should make a fine meal tonight. Dried fish and flatbread for nattmál in the morning.”
Yrjar had used the haft of his axe to wedge thick pieces of wood into narrow cracks in the stone just above the entrance.
Two heavy reindeer cloaks now hung across the cave mouth to retain heat and keep out the wind.
“You can part these when you go outside to empty the chamber pot,” he said.
“And use them like a door when Skjold returns with supplies.”
Their respective tasks completed, the three men prepared to descend the mountain and travel with Bjarni back to V?gan, where they would return the sled, ponies, and reindeer to Knút.
Gr?skegg clasped Haldor’s forearms in a fond farewell. “May Freyja heal your volva. And keep you both safe.”
Yrjar wrapped Haldor in a fierce bearhug. “We’ll winter in V?gan. Chop wood, repair huts and sleds for Knút. Trap, hunt, and fish. Skjold will keep us posted. And bring you news as well.”
Skjold was the last to approach Haldor. The blue dragon inked around his neck glowed as fiercely as his feral gaze. “I’ll return in three days, With fresh fish, furs, and meat.”
Apprehension and empathy blazed in his eyes as he looked down at úlvhild. He knelt and kissed her brow, murmuring softly into her unhearing ear. When he rose to stand beside Haldor, he inhaled deeply and sighed. “I’ll pray to Freyja tonight, too. Make a generous offering… and a sacrifice.”
He hugged Haldor like a son embracing his father.
“I plan to go to Normandy soon with Skadi—from the waterfall cave portal on the island of Skrova.” He adjusted the Dwarven shield strapped to his back.
“We’ll travel through álfheim to the Mermaid Cove in étretat.
I’ll speak with my parents, bring news from the Pays de Caux. And let them know about úlvhild.”
Skjold turned toward the cave exit to join Gr?skegg and Yrjar, but paused and glanced back as they parted the reindeer cloaks. “Freyja will heal her. I know it in my heart. See you in three days.”
With a gust of cold wind, he was gone.
While snow he’d gathered just outside the mouth of the cave melted in a pot over the fire, Haldor gently removed the golden gown úlvhild had worn into battle, now stiffened by nine days’ worth of salt and sea spray during the voyage from ísland.
When the melted water was warm, he lovingly washed her naked body with chamomile soap and a clean cloth, in preparation for the sacred ritual.
When he’d finished, he covered her cleansed body with soft blankets and furs.
Haldor removed his own soiled clothing, washed his salty, weary body, and donned a fresh woolen tunic and breeches.
Now that he had purified them both, he prepared the offering for Freyja.
From the satchel where he had stored them, Haldor retrieved úlvhild’s silver chalice, sacred dagger, and leather belt with its pouches of herbs.
He tossed three juniper berries into the fire, the resinous pine scent welcoming and warm.
When he added a pinch of sweet gale and a sprig of dried angelica, the fragrant, spicy smoke curled like a beckoning hand.
He selected three jewels to imbue with galdr magic and began chanting an incantation. His deep voice, mellow as a harp, poured like rich honey over the three glowing gems.
Amber, sacred to Freyja, like the gems in her Brisingamen necklace.
Amethyst, the heart of seidr magic, and the soulbound rune which joined him to úlvhild.
And moonstone, to open the veil between worlds. Like the glowing gem in her staff.
As the lifelong love for his volva flowed from his vitki heart into his mellifluous song, Haldor placed the trio of galdr-infused gems around úlvhild.
Moonstone at her crown.
Amethyst at her heart.
And amber at her left hand, spiritual pathway to her soul.
Haldor knelt by the fragrant fire, inhaling the sweet smoke and chanting softly as he filled the silver chalice with honeyed mead.
He added meadowsweet to the thick, golden brew, and withdrew a small chunk of myrrh from the leather pouch of úlvhild’s belt, which he burned like incense in the flickering flames.
With the sharp, pointed blade of Freyja’s Whisper, Haldor pierced the tip of the third finger on his left hand, letting three droplets of blood fall into the meadowsweet mead.
A triad of imbued gemstones.
A trio of fragrant herbs.
And a trinity of blood droplets.
A divine offering to Freyja—with the sacred number nine.
Haldor placed the silver chalice at úlvhild’s feet, its embellished gems and etched runes glistening in the firelight.
The sweet almond and honeyed scent of the meadowsweet mead mingled with juniper and myrrh from the fire, wrapping the cave in aromatic, inviting warmth.
He knelt at her right side and caressed her brow, the moonstone, amethyst, and amber gems arranged in harmony around her, as he continued his melodic invocation.
Outside, the sun had already set behind the jagged peaks of V?gakallen. Through a narrow fissure in the roof of the cave, the rising moon now bathed the sacred space in soft, silvery light, which spilled across úlvhild’s serene face.
Heart filled with fervent devotion and desperate hope, Haldor invoked his revered goddess.
“Freyja, hear the plaintive song of my soul,
Bound so tightly with hers,
Breathe divine light into úlvhild’s veins,
And reignite her dying flame that still stirs.”
As Haldor’s chant swirled into the scented air, a shimmery silver light filtered through the fissure from the rock above, basking the cave in moonglow. Upon the radiant beam, an ethereal feminine form floated over úlvhild, flooding her frail body with brilliant starlight.
Against the cave wall, the moonstone in úvhild’s staff blazed to life, and the trio of glittering gems on the floor around her pulsed with radiant power.
úlvhild’s pale skin glimmered from within, aglow by the sacred energy of the goddess. Her long black hair shone with iridescent silver, and the runes etched in the silver chalice whispered with Freyja’s ephemeral voice.
“I have restored her body, but only you can restore her spirit. Nurture her through the long winter. Make love every day within this sacred cave. Each time you fill her with your seed, her soul will grow. And she will blossom—blessed by Freyja’s Bloom.”
As the ephemeral form floated on the moonbeam toward the fissure in the roof, the glowing goddess murmured, "In the spring, like the bear that slumbers through the cold months, your volva will emerge—renewed, reborn, and full of life."
A whoosh of wind and a whisper of wings swept through the silent cave.
A moment later, úlvhild stirred and opened her amber eyes, gilded by the firelight, aglow with golden life. She smiled at Haldor and fixed her loving gaze on his profoundly grateful face.
“Welcome back, my love.” He bent to kiss her full, lush lips. “I summoned Freyja to save you. As you once did, when she healed me with Freyja’s Kiss.” Haldor rose up onto his knees, brushing strands of long black hair from her beloved face.
She glanced around the cave, curious and incredulous. “Where are we? The last thing I remember, the Snake Warrior raised his Dokkálfar blade. And when I stopped him from killing you, the crimson-eyed witch struck me down.”
Haldor took hold of her hand, caressing the soft skin with his thumb.
“I hurled my ísfálkr spear into her wicked heart.” He unfurled úlvhild’s fingers and pressed a bristled kiss inside her palm.
“Myrkkha is no more. Skjold burned her with frostfire flame. Along with Skugga, the bodies of the slain enemy. And the putrid corpse of the troll.”
He gestured to the crackling fire, the soft furs on the stone floor, the glimmering veins of moonstone in the walls of the grotto which sheltered them.
“I brought you here, to the Dragon’s Leap cave,” he whispered, kissing her hand again.
“Where I first summoned Freyja long ago, when I was a young acolyte of eighteen winters, like Skjold.” He smiled down at her, immensely relieved to see her the glow of health in her radiant face.
“Freyja appeared before me in this very cave, when she bestowed the gift of Freyja’s Mark, enabling me to shift into a falcon. ”
He pulled the neck of his woolen tunic down over his shoulder, revealing the feathers which glimmered with golden and violet light.
“When you summoned her to heal me as a wounded falcon, she left the mark of Freyja’s Kiss on the inside of my arm,” he said, displaying the shimmery image of faint lips amongst the tattoos of falcon feathers.