Above Sigurd’s Sea Wolf heart, theouroborossizzled withdragonfire.
Budli rose once again from hisöndvegiand lifted his raven-carved, rune-inscribed elkhorn. “Our thanks to the kings, jarls,vitki,andvölvawho have honored mydóttirand her husband with such noble gifts.” A hearty grin split his thick red beard. “Now let the feast begin!”
At his command, musicians began to play anew, and thralls hurried from the kitchens, bearing steaming platters of roasted ox and salted boar, succulent seafood and grilled fish, and loaves of freshly baked barley bread with nut-encrusted soft cheese. As the mead flowed and the revelry returned, the quiet hall burst into laughter, clattering cups, and the roar of hungry guests.
Brynhildr sipped from her elkhorn and leaned close to Sigurd. “I wish Heimir could have come to our wedding, but I understand how he dared not leave Hlymdalir unguarded, with Gunnar and Högni likely to seek revenge.”
Sigurd swallowed a mouthful of savory meat, washing it down with golden mead. He leaned forward to address Kveld as he replied to Brynhildr. “We’ll send ships to reinforce Heimir and help him defend the Camargue, should they attempt an attack.” He wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “While there, we can retrieve our horses. I’m sure you miss Skug as much as I do Grani. And Tryggvi and Hálfdan need their warhorses, too—in case the Burgundians strike Norway.”
Budli grinned, the gems in his russet beard glinting in the golden light. “With nine kings and jarls sworn to your side, you need not fear Gunnar or Högni. Lindesnes shall be well guarded while you hold the Völsung throne.”
Álfr leaned forward to speak to Sigurd. “MySjórúlfar—and your own newly trained Sea Wolves—will stand ready. Together, we are stronger than any who would challenge you.”
As Budli directed his attention back to Dagny, and Álfr conversed quietly with Hjördis, Brynhildr spoke softly into Sigurd’s ear. “I’m delighted that Helgi will serve as one of your new Sea Wolves,” she said, her eyes glittering like the emerald at the base of her pale throat. “Astrid will come with Inga and Yrsa—to be my midwives. She and Helgi can wed, and live with us in Lindesnes. Inga and Astrid are likemóðirandsystirto me.” She glanced at her jovialfaðir, clearly enchanted with the lovely Dagny at his side. “Soon, there will be another royal wedding at Hrafnfjall,” she quipped with an impish grin. “Dagny will bring her own attendants—so Yrsa, Inga, and Astrid may live with us.”
Sigurd was pleased that a trio of competent midwives would assist Brynhildr with the birth. He would have his Sea Wolves to defend Lindesnes, and she would have her women to nurture her and their beloved babe. He lifted her hand to his lips and smiled, just as Budli rose from hisöndvegionce again.
The Raven King’s booming voice bellowed through the hall, silencing the clamor of the festive crowd. A magnanimous grin split his russet beard. “And now, to celebrate the union of our newly crowned Völsung King and Queen, a trio of skálds shall raise their voices in song!” Black cloak unfurling like raven wings, he gestured to the poets’ table below the royal dais. “First, Skúli, royalskáldof King Álfr, whose verses carry the courage of Sea Wolves across stormy seas.”
Wolf skin wrapped around his rowan crown,Sjórúlfarfur trimming his deep blue cloak, lapis beads braided into his chestnut hair and beard, Skúli stepped forward and bowed to the high table as the rapt hall fell silent.
Budli presented the second bard. “Next, Kjartan, my own silver-tonguedskáld, whose songs have stirred the hearts of countless kings.”
Coppery hair and braided beard as fiery as the Raven King he served, Kjartan bowed, crimson cloak shimmering like finered wine. His long, slender fingers danced over the strings of his gold-painted lyre, the inscribed ravens and runes glinting amidst amber suns.
“And the final royalskáld,” Budli boomed with a fierce grin, “is Hrólfr, newly chosen by our Dragonslayer King Sigurd and his Sun Falcon Queen Brynhildr, who will sing their glorious wedding song!”
Skúli entertained the wedding guests with “Sea Wolf King and Sun Falcon Queen”, honoring Sigurd and Brynhildr, the newly crowned Völsung rulers of Lindesnes.
Kjartan’s skaldic song, “Royal Wedding at Hrafnfjall”, was a glowing tribute to Budli, the nine visiting jarls and kings, and the bridal couple.
Clad in a grey wolfskin cloak over an indigo tunic, the tall, broad warrior poet Hrólfr stood proudly before the enthralled throng. Lapis beads braided into his long blond hair and beard. the shaven sides of his head intricately inked in deep blue, he strummed his wooden harp, carved with wolves, ravens, and runes. His deep, melodic voice mellow as golden mead, he sang“Dragonslayer’s Valkyrie”, the epic saga of how the Sun Falcon Shieldmaiden Brynhildr defied fate for her beloved Sea Wolf, and how Sigurd in turn saved her from theRing of Fireand made her his Völsung queen.
Sigurd’s heart soared as he kissed Brynhildr’s hand. Her smile was as dazzling as her crown.
Amidst thunderous cheers, riotous howls from theSjórúlfar,and the metal clang of swords against bossed shields, Budli rose from his throne, beaming from ear to bearded ear. He lifted a regal hand to silence the clamorous crowd. “Let us honor the royalskáldswho have sung the tales of our newly wedded couple, Sigurd and Brynhildr, the Völsung King and Queen!”
At his gesture, two hulkinghúskarlarin gleaming chainmail emerged from the shadows, carrying a silver platter draped indeep blue silk. Upon it rested three golden armbands, engraved with intertwining wolves, ravens, and runes that mirrored the crowns of Lindesnes.
Pride laced Budli’s rich, reverent voice. “Skúli, Kjartan, and Hrólfr, receive these golden arm rings as royal gifts for your skaldic songs. You have carried the triumphant joy of this wedding and coronation across Hrafnfajll and out over the Sogneforden. May these golden bands shine radiant as the summer solstice sun!”
One by one, thehúskarlarpresented the gleaming armbands to the trio ofskálds,who bowed deeply before the elevated dais as Budli nodded in solemn approval. The hall erupted in cheers, the clatter of clinking cups and laughter mingling with roars and howls.
Budli spread his arms wide, his black cloak fluttering like a raven about to take flight. “Now, wedding guests of Hrafnfjall! Let us take the celebration outdoors to dance around the bonfire, join the villagers in merriment, and rejoice in the union of the Sea Wolf King and his Sun Falcon Queen!”
The wedding guests rose from the long trestle tables and spilled out into golden light, where the midsummer sun lingered low over the glistening fjord. In the wildflower-strewn meadow beyond the flagstone courtyard, a roaring bonfire blazed within an enclosure of smooth stones. Along both sides of the cobbled path which led from the clifftop fortress down into the vibrant village, brightly colored tents and canvas stalls offered skewered meats, spiced cakes, handcrafted wares, and golden mead for the joyous occasion. The scents of cinnamon, roasted chestnuts, and grilled fish mingled with the salty scent of the nearby sea, the crackle of the bonfire, and lively music blending with laughter and song.
As flames leapt like molten gold, and notes from lyres and flutes floated in the warm summer breeze, kings, jarls, warriors, and villagers alike spun in rhythm to the lively melodies.
Sigurd held Brynhildr in his arms, swirling around the bonfire. Fond memories of dancing with her for the first time during the Sólhjarta Tournament floated into his mind like the fjord flowing beneath the cliff. “Remember the summer solstice past, when you led me into your private courtyard?” He flashed her a wolfish grin, taking her hand and guiding her toward the stone wall covered in ivy, wild roses, and thorned vines.
There, beneath her clifftop tower, was the triple bindrune Kveld had carved into the stone. The same trio of runes inscribed in his wedding band—and in the silver casing of the emerald talisman at the base of Brynhildr’s throat.
He released her hand and crouched low, running reverent fingers over the runes. “Geibo,the gift of self we give each other.” He smiled up at her, his beloved Sun Falcon, now his wedded wife and crowned queen. “Raido, the voyage onÚlfalkrwhich sailed us to safety across the sea, just as Kveld had foreseen.” Brushing fingertips over the last mark, he whispered, “Kaun, the rune of fire. For theouroboroswhich binds our souls withseiðr.” Sigurd rose to his feet and pulled her into his arms. He brushed her full lips with his own.
The rustle of silk alerted his keen lupine ears. Behind them, the ochre-painted face of the crimson-haired völva Eldsjá glimmered in the midnight sun. “I too, wish to bestow a wedding gift,” she murmured, her velvety voice smooth as her amethyst gown. A copper diadem set with glittering amethysts rested atop her long scarlet locks. Black runes graced her swanlike neck, and black catskin gloves limned her long arms. Clutched in her slender hands was the gnarled black staff, topped with the skull of a raven who watched with glowing amber eyes.
An enigmatic smile curled Eldsjá’s blackened lips. “The night you became a Sea Wolf, I foresaw your fate in flames. Tonight, I glimpse the illustrious future of theDragonslayer’s Daughter.”
