Chapter 42 #2
Slices of sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, glinting off the snow-dusted ground like glittering gems. The crisp piney scent of the forest mingled with the briny tang of the sea as Skjold and Skadi followed Elfi and Njord into the sacred grove where they had buried Galadir beside Dag two moons past.
Waiting for them in the clearing up ahead, Luna stood with Njáll, Lugh, and Queen íssla, flanked by four Ljósálfar guards. Their gleaming Elven swords were studded with gildir starstones, and the frosted leather of their silvery dragonscale armor was gilded by the golden sun.
Skjold expected Luna and Lugh to lead them to the waterfall cave of the Mermaid Cove. But instead, Luna led them away from the sacred grove, toward the Forest of the Wolf. Emerald eyes as verdant as the towering trees, she whispered breathlessly, “Follow me to la Forêt du Loup.”
They traveled through the thick forest, headed toward a sheltered glen. “This is where the úlfhéenar train,” Njord said to Skadi and Skjold. “I wonder why Luna has led us here.”
Skadi and Elfi exchanged a knowing look, excitement aglow on their eager faces.
“You both know why, don’t you?” Njord flashed a conspiratorial grin. “Tell us.”
Elfi shook her head and giggled. “Luna swore us to secrecy.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from Njord. “It seems we’ll soon find out—for here we are.”
They had arrived at the base of an enormous beech tree, where royal guards were assembled around íssla. Standing between a visibly bewildered Njáll and a grinning Lugh, Luna anxiously awaited Skadi, Skjold, Elfi, and Njord.
Once they had all gathered near, Luna faced Njáll and took hold of his scarred, swarthy hands. In the golden light, the amber eyes of the enormous black wolf atop Njáll’s long black hair gleamed with an otherworldly glow.
“I have a gift for you, my beloved wolf.” She looked up into his perplexed, expectant face. “And this is the perfect spot. In the heart of la Forêt du Loup—the sacred Wolf Forest— enshrouded in protective Ljósálfar light.”
As Queen íssla had done at the wedding feast when she bestowed the gift of mir glir upon Elfi, Luna fluttered her long, slender fingers like softly falling flakes of snow, bathing Njáll in brilliant, lustrous light.
“I grant you the Ljósálfar magic of Skógahjarta—the Heart of the Forest.” She placed a glowing hand upon Njáll’s chest, gazing up at him with sparkling emerald eyes. “Should you ever be wounded, seek refuge in the woods, where this verdant Ljósálfar magic will heal you.”
Rising up on booted toes, she pressed a kiss to his stunned lips.
“And now that Ljósálfar magic flows in your lupine blood, you may come with me to álfheim for tonight’s winter solstice feast.” She wrapped her arms around his thick neck, the flowing sleeves of her deep green gown fluttering over his black wolfskin cloak.
“And we can build a moonstone cottage in the ísilskóga Forest which Queen íssla has offered us as a wedding gift.”
Njáll’s dark eyes widened in awe as realization dawned. “You will wed me?”
When she nodded, he swept her up in his sinewy arms and swirled her with joy.
Setting her gently down upon the snow, he swooped down and claimed a fierce, feral kiss.
As if remembering they were among others—including the Ljósálfar queen—he recovered, released Luna from his passionate embrace, and rumbled with deep laughter.
“Thank all the gods, you finally said yes.” He kissed her pearlescent hand.
“Luna, I cannot wait to make you my wife. And I vow to spend the rest of my life devoted only to you.”
Still clutching Luna’s hand, Njáll bowed before the queen. “My queen, I am eternally grateful for the generous wedding gift.” He straightened and smiled at Luna. “We shall be very happy together, living in a forest of álfheim.”
Queen íssla positively glowed. “It is my pleasure. And I shall bring you there when we cross the crystal bridge. ísilskóga—the Moonlit Forest—borders the ísilwen Spring, whose curative waters Luna often wields through her magic of nen glir.”
Deep green scales of his frostdragon armor shimmering with icy silver, Lugh gallantly offered his elbow to the Ljósálfar queen. “Allow me to escort you, Queen íssla. We’ll cross la Forêt du Loup and travel to álfheim from the portal of the waterfall cave.”
Arm in arm, flanked by royal guards, Lugh and the queen led them all through the dense forest toward the Mermaid Cove.
* * * *
Sunlight danced on the waves of the Elandrian Sea, its vivid turquoise a vibrant bluish green.
Atop a towering cliff in the distance, a white castle with turrets and towers glistened like crystal.
“There is Miralir— Lyre of the Sea, made of shimmering moonstone. The castle I bequeathed to Elfi and Njord.” íssla pointed to the magnificent ivory fortress as she spoke to Skadi and Skjold. “And this is your moonstone cottage.”
Atop the opalescent walls of the small white abode, a high peaked silver metal roof glinted in the last rays of the setting sun beneath a canopy of lush green trees.
On either side of the pearlized grey ashwood entrance door, dark green vines with moonflowers in bloom climbed an intricately woven white trellis.
Retrieving an ornate silver key from the frosted dragonscale leather belt at her waist, the queen unlocked the curved front door and ushered them inside.
“There is no furniture yet,” íssla explained, leading them into a large room with glass windows shaped like half-moons which offered a glorious view of Lyrian Lake. And there—along the eastern shore—was a small cluster of magnificent trees, laden with frosted starfruit.
At the spectacular sight of the incandescent trees and sparkling fruit, Skadi’s eyes widened with surprised delight.
“Though the kitchen is small, there are carved moonstone shelves to hold plenty of supplies.” íssla gestured to the adjoining kitchen, which was more of a graceful curved nook off the central area than a separate chamber.
“And there are four sleeping quarters, two on each side of the long corridor.” She pointed down the hall that extended from the spacious, light-filled room where they all now stood.
Skadi squeezed Skjold’s hand, her pale blue eyes shining like the aquamarine gem in the wedding ring on her slender finger. “This is beautiful. I will love living here.”
“Come, everyone. Luna and Lugh have a splendid feast prepared,” the queen said cheerfully, handing Skadi the key to their new home with a gracious, generous smile. “Let’s follow them to their seaside cottage. It’s not far.”
* * * *
They feasted on frostfin snapper and glimmerfish from the Elandrian Sea, dark green kale streaked with silver, and roasted golden carrots with glazed honey and crushed moonhazel nuts.
Seated in carved chairs of pale wood tufted with dark green silk around a matching oval table, they drank earthy golden wine made from luscious Ljósálfar grapes.
“The nourishing food and cleansing water of álfheim will restore—or even enhance—your magic,” Luna said to Njáll as he wolfed down the tender frostfin snapper.
She beamed at íssla. “I am truly grateful that our generous queen has offered us the ísilskóga Forest where we can build our home.” She leaned against Njáll’s brawny arm and smiled teasingly at her older broeir.
“Now Lugh must find a bride to live in this cottage with him.”
Lugh chuckled and raised his silver goblet. “To Elfi and Njord, Skadi and Skjold, and Luna and Njáll. May you always be as joyous as this wondrous Jól in álfheim.”
While he savored the rich, fruity flavor of the mellow golden wine, Skjold cast his appreciative gaze over Lugh and Luna’s lovely dwelling.
Near a table topped with a bouquet of plump white roses, a moon-shaped window opened onto a small lake sheltered by dense, dark trees.
Behind the moonstone cottage, illuminated in silvery glow, two serene white swans floated on the moonlit lake.
Skadi leaned over to kiss his cheek and whispered in his ear. “I would love our home to look like this. Simple, yet elegant. Surrounded by the beauty of nature.” She sighed with pleasure. “Just divine.”
Luna rose from her carved chair and returned with a flaky golden pie, which she placed in the center of the table.
“I learned this from your Maman.” Affection laced her warm, velvety voice.
“Une tarte aux mirabelles,” Luna announced with pride.
“Like the wild plum tarts of the Pays de Caux…” Her dark green eyes sparkled in the warm, beeswax glow of the candles.
“But made with the golden plums of álfheim.”
A ripple of laughter flowed from Elfi. “I remember you made une tarte aux mirabelles when Njord and I visited this past summer.” She inhaled the sweet, appetizing scent. “Rich, decadent, and delicious.”
Luna placed a platter of small cakes topped with honey, fruit, and nuts.
“Oatcakes with snowberries, moondrops, and silver beechnuts.” Luna smiled at her rapt guests.
“And this…” she added, excitement dancing in her eyes as she looked at Elfi, “…is the frosted starfruit I promised to serve you on the winter solstice.”
From the kitchen, she brought a small crystal bowl for each guest—filled with shimmering silver fruit, swirled in enticing, icy cream.
“It has a delicate mint flavor like no other.” She watched with bated breath as everyone scooped a spoonful and slid the frosted starfruit into their smiling mouths.
And beamed with proud delight at the murmur of appreciative hums.
After everyone had sampled the tarte aux mirabelles and cakes topped with honey and fruit, Skjold noticed Njáll speaking quietly with Lugh near the window overlooking the moonlit lake.
Lugh nodded, disappeared down the hall, and returned a few moments later.
He handed something shiny to Njáll, who secured it in the leather pouch at his waist.
Crossing the polished ashwood floor, Lugh addressed the guests, who were preparing to depart. “Njáll would like to see the ísilskóga Forest once more before we return to Chateau Blanc.”
As the others rose from the table and fastened their cloaks, Lugh flashed a cheerful grin. “Come. I’ll lead the way.”
When they reached the edge of the forest, Lugh halted, and Njáll took hold of Luna’s hand. Moonlight cast a silvery frost over her pale blonde hair.
“Here—in the heart of the Moonlit Forest where we will build our home—I want us to wed tonight. Under the winter solstice moon of álfheim.” He withdrew a silver band etched with scrolls and runes from the leather pouch at his waist.
“I offer you this ring…” he said solemnly, his deep voice reverent and rough as he slid it onto her long finger. “And with it, my vow to protect you with my life.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her smooth skin. “I swear to love only you until the day I die.”
Tears glimmered in Luna’s moonlit eyes as she gazed up at Njáll. “I accept your ring, your vow…and you as my husband.”
Lugh unbuckled the belt at his waist and removed a dragonscale scabbard studded with glowing moonstones and glittering starstones which sheathed a gleaming Ljósálfar sword.
Attached to its ornate hilt by a dark emerald green ribbon, a silver band glimmered in the soft light.
“This magnificent sword belonged to our faeir. I offer it to you, systir minn, to present to your husband who will now protect you in my place. Untie the ring, state your vows, and give Njáll the Ljósálfar sword, Vélindor.”
Luna looked up at her broeir with a blend of incredulity, joy, and gratitude.
She untied the ribbon, withdrew the ring, and took hold of Njáll’s large, scarred hand.
Gazing up at her dark úlfhéeinn—the amber eyes of his black wolfskin cloak glowing golden in the incandescent light—Luna slid the silver band onto his large finger.
“With this ring, I vow to stand at your side, to heal you when hurt, and to bear your babes, should the gods bless us with children.” She kissed his knuckles dusted with dark hair, then turned to Lugh to accept the heirloom blade.
Holding the weapon flat across her outstretched hands, she presented it reverently to Njáll.
“I offer you my faeir’s sword, Vélindor.
Forged in dragonfire, adorned with a gildir starstone, and imbued with Ljósálfar light.
May you wield it as my faeir once did. And may the magic of álfheim guide your úlhéeinn hand. ”
Njáll bowed his head and took the gleaming blade from her open palms. “I accept your ring, your vow, and your sword.” He solemnly sheathed the weapon at his waist, then lifted Luna’s hands to his bearded lips.
“I am honored to call you my wife.” Towering above her, he bent down and pressed a reverent, gentle kiss to her lips.
When Njáll straightened and took hold of Luna’s hand, Queen íssla’s crystalline voice flowed like the ísilwen spring which rippled at the edge of the forest. “As Queen of the Ljósálfar, I offer you my blessing as husband and wife, duly wed this solstice night in the Moonlit Forest of álfheim.” Raising her luminous hands over Luna and Njáll, she anointed them with radiant Ljósálfar light.
After the ethereal glow faded, Lugh stepped forward and inclined his head toward the queen. “It is time to return,” he said softly, offering íssla his dragonscale clad elbow.
The queen slipped her arm through his, and Lugh led them all from the glimmering glade, back to the waterfall cave.