Oath Bound: Day 14

Word Count: 84,234

Summary of Events:

The brothers left for the day, leaving Friðljót alone for the first time since her rescue, which had her a little worried; she also became alarmed when a völva came to call and the hound she'd been given wouldn't let the woman near. Aðalbjörn discovered that his betrothed was not dead as he'd been told, but had escaped from her death; the only problem was that a lot of land lay in the directions she'd likely fled, and he had no tracks to set him on course. Friðljót went outside, waiting for her hound to return with supper, and spied a necklace on the ground where the völva had stood; it was pretty, so she decided to take it inside and try it on once she was done eating; being overwhelmed by weariness, she fell asleep . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Sigbjörg,” an earnest voice said, sounding far away. “Sigbjörg, wake up.”

Friðljót felt as if she were floating, but yet slowly coming toward landing.

“Please, Sigbjörg,” the voice said, sounding desperate, yet nearer.

A great fog seemed to be about her mind; she struggled to find her way through it at first, but the more she sought to get through it, the easier it became.

“I think she’s coming,” another voice said, sounding nearest of all, and as if desperate for hope.

Suddenly sensation came to her, two hands were clasped around one of hers tightly, her head rested on something that wasn’t her bed, and a soft, warm, wet tongue was licking her face. Her eyes were closed.

She shifted, trying to get away from the tongue, which left of its own accord, she heard a bark very close at hand that sounded triumphant.

“Sigbjörg!” a delighted voice she recognised now as Arnvíg’s exclaimed.

Finally Friðljót opened her eyes and saw the fire was burning high, Arnvíg was the one clutching her hand, and her head was resting on Varðag’s lap. It was dark.

Alarmed at the darkness, Friðljót startled and sat up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep long, I was just tired, I don’t even know why, I’ll start the bread right away,” Friðljót said desperately.

“The bread doesn’t matter,” Fróðvinr whispered. “We can go without bread.”

Friðljót looked around at the brothers and saw, despite the relief on their faces, vestiges of the anxiety that had been on them before still remained. Arnvíg, in particular, still looked pale and terrified, as if he couldn’t really believe that she was awake and speaking.

“But I was going to make it,” Friðljót replied. “I just needed to sleep for a little bit.”

“You weren’t sleeping,” Úlfherr said, his voice sounding low and ominous.

“How could I not be sleeping?” Friðljót asked. “Did I not just wake up?”

“You were dead,” Úlfherr said, his voice sounding raw.

A lightning strike of cold terror shot through Friðljót. She looked toward Úlfherr, whose face was grim.

“How could I be dead?” Friðljót asked despite her breathlessness.

“Where did you get this?” Fasthallr said, holding up the fire poker, on which hung the necklace.

“I found it,” Friðljót replied. “It was outside, where the völva had been standing.”

“Völva?” Magnarr asked. “What völva?”

“She didn’t tell me her name,” Friðljót replied. “She only offered to tell me what the gods had in store for my future, but Hildmundr wouldn’t let her near. She threatened to curse me if I didn’t give her a loaf of bread, so I did and she left. When I sent Hildmundr to get me a fish I saw it, and once I had eaten I tried it on, and . . . and that’s when I felt tired, and so I went to sleep.”

“So much for not cursing,” Varrað spat, sounding contemptuous.

Pronunciations:

Völva: vuulvah

Arnvíg: ahrnveeg

Varðag: vahrthahg

Fasthallr: fahsthahllhr

Magnarr: maygnahr

Hildmundr: hihldmoondhr

Varrað: vahrahth