The night was clear and cold, almost a blue cold, but I was so warm in the clothes Eric had chosen for me I hardly even noticed. I was wearing many furs and leather pants also lined in fur. The long buckskin-type coat was heavily lined in what looked like a bear skin with a hood that fit over my head like a helmet. Eric has taken me for a ride on this most regal white horse. As we rode together on its back, I couldn't help but notice it had a king-like attitude, yes....very familiar. His mane was so long it whipped past Eric and trailed along beside me. His tail was like a whisper of angel wings as it flowed behind us. He held his head high and proud--this was a horse made in the image of a Viking.
Our white Viking horse, as surefooted in the snow as if wearing snowshoes, lopped towards what looked like a hill, but I was a little nervous since I could not make out if that was a hill or a cliff! Soon the horse slowed and stopped. Eric slid down and turned to me, offering his hands to help me dismount. He kissed me gently which soon turned to a deep tangle of tongues as the Viking before me, my bonded, my lover, my husband, stirred all the familiar smoldering feelings throughout my body. I could, even now, feel myself moisten for him. "I love you my Viking," I sent through to him. "Those words still make me shiver, my Lover," he said so softly it sounded like a purr.
"Please wait here, my Lover." I watched as my Viking walked slowly towards the hilltop and stood quietly. I instantly knew this was his valley below, his human land sitting below him. He was standing so still he looked like he was frozen in time. He finally moved and came back towards me. He reached for a satchel on our proud mount's back and opened it. He removed what looked like church candles, the ones in glasses so they don't blow out. He also took out something that resembled an item made of straw. I looked at him with a puzzled look and he explained it to me. On Christmas Eve it is customary to visit the grave sites of departed family members and place candles on the graves. The other item was a Julebukk made of straw. It is a very popular Christmas decoration. It is named for the goat that drew the cart of Thor, the god of thunder in Norse mythology. Eric knew he could not find the graves of his family but this hillside looked down on where they were buried many centuries ago, so it was a fitting place. He wanted me to be a part of this ceremony so he took my hand and I carried the Julebukk. He carried the candles. We walked very reverently to the brink of the hillside. Eric lined up the candles in the snow and lit them one by one as he whispered what I believe was a prayer in ancient Swedish. He turned to me and I handed him the Julebukk, which he laid softly in the snow. We watched silently as the candles flickered. I saw pink tears roll down his cheeks as I wiped my own tears. Eric fell to his knees and cried out to his family one last time. He stood, scooped me into his arms and much to my surprise held me in outstretched arms over the edge of the hill. For a split second I thought I was to be a sacrifice to his family until I realized he was introducing me to them as he said, "This is my wife, my lover, my family now." He turned on his heels with a weeping wife in his arms. He so is strong-willed and mighty, but today he had a heart that I swear I could feel beating. I cannot believe that I love him even more.