Chapter 38
Solstice, Silk, and Swords
Everything was finally ready.
Le Chateau Blanc was adorned with garlands of holly and ivy, their dark green vines interwoven with fragrant white hellébore blossoms. An enormous bonfire roared in the clifftop clearing near the canopy of beech and oak trees alongside the castle, the open meadow dusted lightly with freshly fallen snow.
The goei who would perform tonight’s pagan Viking ceremony had already sacrificed two boars—now roasting on spits in the castle kitchens for the wedding feast— and had saved the sacred blood to offer Odin, Freyr, and Freyja.
Seated with Skadi and Sif in the antechamber which connected her private quarters with Oda’s, Elfi’s heart overflowed.
“This kransen once belonged to Sk?rde’s grandmother Gyda.
” Ylva’s velvety voice was laced with love as she placed the delicate silver circlet atop Skadi’s intricately braided locks.
“It looks beautiful with your long blonde hair.” Fetching the small silver box on the shelf, she opened it to displayed a pair of silver rings, each set with twin gemstones—a pale blue aquamarine that sparkled like an icy fjord, and a deep purple amethyst that blazed with violet fire.
“A wedding gift for you and Skjold,” she said with a warm smile.
“I am most pleased with the fine craftsmanship. And the colors represent the Elven water and frostfire magic you share as soulbound mates.”
“I am most grateful,” Skadi murmured, as Ylva kissed her cheek.
“This wedding gown…” she said, gesturing to the ice blue silk creation that Oda, Vilde, Ylva, and Vivi had meticulously stitched over the past several weeks which now draped her long, lithe body.
“The kransen…the rings…the ceremony itself… I am simply overcome with joy.” Cupping her crumpled face in her pale hands, she released a single, heartfelt sob.
“And these are for you, dear Sif.” Oda bent to kiss her cheek and offered a similar silver box.
“Your mother has been at my side for thirty winters,” she said softly, drawing Sif into an affectionate hug.
Her wide, expressive eyes welled with tears as she smiled gratefully at Vilde.
“I had the village silversmith craft them with gems to match your gown.”
Sif, seated beside Elfi and Skadi, opened the small box and gasped.
Inside, nestled in black velvet, were two silver wedding rings, each set with a sparkling faceted amethyst. Hers held a large oval gem, while Bodo’s broader band was inlaid with a smaller matching stone.
“Thank you, truly. They’re perfect.” Sif half rose from her chair, twisting her body so that she could wrap her arms around Oda.
She kissed the soft, wrinkled cheek of Elfi’s beloved amma.
When Sif slipped the ring on her finger, the deep purple gem glittered in the firelight.
“I cannot wait to become Bodo’s wife.” Reluctantly removing the ring from her finger, she returned it to rest beside Bodo’s, and handed the small box to Vilde, who would hold it for the ceremony.
“I also have a gift to bestow.” Queen íssla—who had arrived several days earlier with Njord—rose regally from her seat near Oda. Set with gildir gemstones in shimmering silver, the slender crown atop her white blonde hair glittered like starlight on snow.
In her pearlescent hands was a narrow parcel wrapped in deep blue silk of the same hue as Elfi’s wedding gown. íssla extended the gift to Elfi with a soft, radiant smile.
Elfi unwrapped the blue silk to reveal a whalebone flute, the pale ivory intricately carved with wavelike swirls, and the twin images of a wolf and a mermaid.
“Njord told me how you always played your brother’s flute, and that you had buried it, along with his recovered Ljósálfar sword, alongside Dag’s grave in the sacred grove.
” Tender, slender fingers caressed Elfi’s cheek.
“When I learned how you had summoned the wolves to save Chateau Blanc—and that Jarl Rikard had bestowed upon you the title of La Louve Blanche—I had this crafted for you in álfheim.” íssla traced the engraved images on the ivory flute cradled in Elfi’s hands.
“The wolf represents Njord, and the mermaid is you, sjóvaettir daughter of Dúva and granddaughter of the Sea Goddess Rán. But the wolf also commemorates your valor as La Louve Blanche. Shieldmaiden of étretat.”
Tears welled in Elfi eyes as she beheld the priceless gift.
Now she could honor Dag in Valhalla—just as she had always done in the waterfall cave of the Mermaid Cove—by playing this precious whalebone flute that symbolized her marriage to Njord.
And her identity as the Shieldmaiden of étretat that Dag had trained her to be.
Elfi stood on unsteady legs, her hands trembling as she cradled the whalebone flute. “Thank you very much,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “You could not have given me a more splendid gift.”
She held íssla’s radiant, regal gaze. “I never knew my own moeir,” Elfi said softly, her voice frail and fragile. “But I am so very glad to know Njord’s.” She wrapped her arms around íssla and kissed the luminous cheek of the beautiful Ljósálfar queen.
“A trio of winter solstice brides. All clad in shimmery silk.” Bright blue eyes brimming with joyful tears, íssla embraced Elfi, rested a royal hand on Sif’s slim shoulder, and graced Skadi with a starlit smile. “Now we wait for the men whose hearts you hold.”
A sudden, loud knock made all three brides jump.
They exchanged excited glances and nervous laughter as they rose from their chairs.
But to their mutual surprise, when Oda opened the heavy oak door, Sk?rde and Thorfinn waited in the hallway, each bearing a gleaming sword, and Bjarke stood at Thorfinn’s side.
Oda ushered them in with a knowing smile.
Sk?rde strode into the room, smiling warmly at Ylva and Vivi as he slowly approached Skadi, the magnificent sword laid across his flat palms. Clad in his heraldic emerald and silver, glittering gems and beads braided into his long blond hair and gold-streaked beard, the Count of the Pays de Caux still bore the formidable strength and rugged bearing of the Viking once hailed as the Dragon of Denmark.
His deep voice echoed off the wooden walls of the silent chamber.
“Your honorable faeir, the legendary frost giant Skallagrímr, was slain defending you from the Dokkálfar who stole you from him.” Paternal pride blazed in Sk?rde’s warrior gaze.
“Since he cannot offer you his own blade for the ritual exchange, I would be honored to present this heirloom sword in his stead for your wedding tonight to my son. Bláhjarta—Blueheart—once belonged to my own faeir, King Harald Bluetooth of Denmark and Norway.”
He extended his arms, palms flat, offering Skadi the gleaming blade.
“Tie Skjold’s ring to the hilt with this silver ribbon,” he said, handing her the shimmering strand.
“I will stand at your side during the ceremony, holding Bláhjarta as your faeir would have, until the time comes to exchange your vows.”
Silver strands glinting in his golden hair, emerald gems glittering in his braided beard, Sk?rde bent to kiss her tear-streaked cheek. “You are my son’s soulbound mate. Tonight, you become his wife… and my beloved daughter.”
Skadi accepted the sword and silver ribbon, the slender kransen gifted from Ylva glinting on her bowed blonde head.
Her hushed whisper was laced with reverent wonder.
“I am deeply honored to accept Bláhjarta, Lord Sk?rde. My faeir smiles proudly from Valhalla. Words cannot convey my profound gratitude. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”
Elfi watched her beloved faeir approach Sif, his bearded lips trembling with emotion as he offered her the sword laid across his own outstretched arms. “Your faeir Eysteinn died defending this castle just before you were born. And when my wife Dúva died giving birth to Elfi, your moeir was the wetnurse who helped me raise my motherless dóttir.” He smiled softly at Vilde, tears welling in his dark brown eyes.
“This sword was my first—as a young warrior in service to Jarl Rikard.” He extended the impressive blade to Sif.
“I offer Bjargvorer, the Cliff Guardian, in the name of your fallen faeir. To you, Sif, whom I love as my own dóttir.”
Thorfinn signaled Bjarke to approach. “As First Knight of Chateau Blanc, and my son’s closest friend, Bjarke will present Bjargvorer to you, while I offer Dag’s sword to Elfi, for the exchange of vows and rings.”
While Skadi and Sif tied the grooms’ wedding bands with silver ribbons to the hilt of the gifted swords, Elfi retrieved Shadowbane from the wall of her private chamber.
As she gripped her broeir’s very first sword—the weapon he had used to train her—Elfi recalled its original name in the Old Norse tongue.
Dokkarbani. Bane of shadows and darkness.
The heirloom sword with which she had avenged Dag’s death by slaying the Count of Soissons. And banished his darkness from their castle.
Silk gown swishing as she swept across the polished floor, Elfi rejoined Sif and Skadi, tied Njord’s ring to the hilt of the beloved blade, and placed it in her faeir’s hands for the ritual exchange of swords.
“Ulvhild crafted this for you? It’s exquisite!
” Ylva helped Skadi into the silvery blue fox fur cloak and fastened it with a moonstone brooch.
“The ice blue sheen matches the silk of your wedding gown. You are a most beautiful bride.” She kissed Skadi’s cheek, a shimmer of tears in her smiling eyes.
“I am so thankful that úlvhild is well. And that Freyja blessed her with Haldor’s babe. A daughter, named after the goddess.”
As her amma secured the white ermine cloak over her deep blue silk wedding gown, Elfi exclaimed, “And she and Haldor are finally wed—after nearly twenty winters! I cannot wait to see them both in the spring.”
Vilde helped Sif don her new marten cloak lined with fine wool, a generous gift from Thorfinn. The rich, deep brown fur shone in the firelight, the perfect complement to Sif’s amethyst gown.
“Come, wondrous winter solstice brides,” Thorfinn said with a proud smile. “It’s time for the ceremony to begin.”