His long white hair and braided beard aglow in the moonlight, King Rögnvaldr inclined his crowned head toward the seeress, silently conveying his royal command for her to grant King Álfr’s request.
Eldsjá gracefully rose from her ornate chair which was draped in luxurious lynx fur. The black tips of the tawny golden pelt echoed the ochre paint of her hauntingly beautiful face and the black runes inked along her slender throat and across her luminous skin. Amber eyes aglow like molten gold, her flaming hair tumbled in wild waves to her narrow waist as she inclinedher crowned head to King Rögnvaldr first as her sovereign monarch, then to King Álfr as their royal host, and to Queen Hjördis, shimmering in blue silk like the sea, seated at the Wolf King’s side. A brief, respectful nod acknowledged Sigurd Sea Wolf, whose fate she would now divine in the flickering flames.
She slowly circled the stone-enclosed bonfire, the salty wind from the fjord billowing across the heathered clifftop, whipping her fiery hair as smoke curled around her like a sinuous cloak. The seeressrhythmically thumped her gnarled black staff onto the grassy ground, the amber eyes of the raven skull perched at its peak glinting in the firelight. Black catskin gloves covered her skeletal hands, and from small leather pouches hanging at her woven belt, she withdrew a trio of berries whose vibrant colors matched the glittering gems in the coppery diadem atop her long crimson locks.
Deep violet like the dark purple amethysts, three juniper berries fell into the fire. As they crackled and popped, releasing a crisp piney scent, Eldsjá inhaled the herb-laced smoke.
Next she cast a trio of elderberries into the flames, their deep red hue mirroring the garnets in her bronze crown and the crimson of her silken gown. As they snapped, sending sparks toward the stars overhead, thevölvadrew in the sweet, pungent scent.
Eldsjá flung three rowan berries into the fire, the vibrant orange reminiscent of the amber gems in her bronze diadem and the glowing eyes of the raven atop her long, twisted staff. The sharp, bitter tang of the sacred tree’s fruit mingled with the sweet, spicy smoke.
In rhythm with the thumping of her gnarled black stave, thevölva’sstrident voice wafted on the wind and flowed over the fjord, her haunting melody edged with sharp cries like a raven. Thevarðlokkurchant floated in the salty breeze, spiraling toward the stars on swirls of smoke.
“A trinity of three I cast to the fire—nine berries, the sacred number I offer the Norns.
As Odin hung nine nights upon Yggdrasil, and nine realms lie bound to the World Tree, so let fate be revealed infiresight, as I wieldseiðrto see Sigurd’swyrdin the flames.”
Her bronze circlet glowed like molten copper, the trio of gems glittering atop her flame-colored hair. Ochre face shimmering with golden fire, Eldsjá raised her black staff in slow arcs, tracing the twisting, coiling threads of fate. The fragrant flames leapt in response, casting shadows like raven wings over the clifftop.
Cryptic and haunting, thevölva’sotherworldly voice crept up Sigurd’s spine.
“The sons of kings shall be sworn in blood.
The Wolf’s defeat shall blaze as triumph.
In fire shall the God-sword be reforged.
Through fire shall the Wolf ride the wind-borne steed.
The Green Wyrm shall fall to the Sea Wolf.
And the Coil shall close the web ofwyrd.
But the Dragon’s flames shall ward the Daughter,
Born of the Dwarven Curse.”
As the final words of her eerie prophecy echoed across the hushed throng and out over the starlit fjord, Eldsjá lowered her ebony staff, resting it against the lynx fur which adorned her ornate chair. She bowed first to the awestruck kings and queen, then lingered in a silent, mesmerizing stare before slowly inclining her crowned head to Sigurd. Behind her, the bonfire roared, sending swirling sparks and fragrant smoke skyward, as if the flames themselves bore witness to theseiðrvision revealed infiresight.
While Sigurd pondered the puzzling prophecy, and Eldsjá returned to her fur-draped seat, King Álfr stood, his majestic wolf head brooch sparkling in the starlight. The Wolf King’sdeep, reverent voice rang out across the heathered moor. “Let the halls and cliffs of Sjóborg honor thevölvawho has foreseen Sigurd’s fate in flames.” He nodded to Queen Hjördis, who rose from her elaborate throne draped with wolf fur, an intricately etched bronze bowl gleaming in her pale hands.
Sigurd recognized the trinity of runes inscribed on the ceremonial bowl.Ansuz,for divine wisdom. Kaun, for fire, illumination, and revelation. AndGebo, the gift offered by hismóðirthe gracious queen.
A trio of glittering gems—amethysts, garnets, and amber, the same stones which adorned thevölva’sbronze crown—embellished the bejeweled bowl. Amid rolling waves, a triad of snarling wolves was engraved.
Threefold in runes, threefold in gems, threefold in wolves—nine, the number sacred to the Norns who revealed the threads of fate to thevölvathrough herseiðrvisions in flames.
Hismóðir’slyrical voice flowed like the waters of the starlit fjord.
“To Eldsjá, whoseFiresightguides the hearts of kings. Accept this token, in reverence and gratitude, for your wisdom and vision.” Inclining her intricately braided blonde head, silver crown glistening in the moonlight, Queen Hjördis presented the embellished bronze bowl to the gold and crimsonvölva.
With a dignified nod to acknowledge the esteemed royal gift, Eldsjá accepted the ornate ritual vessel.
The runes, gems, and wolves danced in the fiery flames.
Sigurd gazed at theSjórúlfarseated on the bench at his side. In the moonlight, the lupine eyes of the wolfskins glowed as if alive. The salty wind whipping across the cliff ruffled the thick fur of their magnificent cloaks. As a broad grin broke across Hródvarr’s scarred, bearded face, a wave of pride surged through Sigurd like the starlit sea swelling the windswept fjord.
King Álfr’s deep voice resounded over the festive crowd as he rose again from theöndvegi, ornate elkhorn held high. “Tonight, we honor Sigurd Sea Wolf, newly sworn among theSjórúlfar.May the songs ofskálds, the bestowal of gifts, and thevölva’svision mingle in our hearts, leaving wisdom and wonder to guide us untildagmálgreets the dawn.”
