Chapter 35

The next afternoon, Bard knocked on Old Lars and Olga's door. It was Old Lars who answered, and a smile split his wrinkled face when he saw who it was.

'Bard!' he said tremulously. 'Good to see you, lad. You're looking a little worse for wear, I might say, but there's nothing wrong with exchanging blows every now and then, just like I've always told my…'

'Bard Girionsson!' exclaimed Olga, who was passing the door, loud enough to wake the Dragon. 'What under the Mountain happened to your face?'

'It's fine,' he replied, fidgeting. 'Just a little fight.'

'A little fight?' she snorted, coming to stand next to Old Lars. 'You, my lad, are prone to under-exaggerating.'

'Better than the opposite,' he muttered, and she narrowed her eyes.

'I suppose you are here to ask me to take care of your children. Or is it Freja, taken ill again?'

'Neither, actually,' he replied. 'I came with some news. We're moving away.'

Old Lars raised an eyebrow. 'Is this news good or bad?'

'Good,' Bard said with a smile he couldn't hide. 'We, uh, came into some money, and we're going to make use of it. We decided that the place we have now won't really do as the little ones grow.'

'So, it's goodbye then,' Olga sniffed. 'I might have guessed. I suppose I must be grateful that you at least thought to come and let me know!'

'I wanted to thank you as well,' Bard said, drawing a pouch from his coat pocket. 'You've both done more than you had to for us since Karinne died, and I'm thankful. Freja wouldn't even be alive without you, Olga. We couldn't have wished for better neighbours.'

She sniffed again, but this time she seemed slightly more mollified. 'Well. You're welcome.'

He offered her the pouch, and she opened it gingerly. Inside was a large opal brooch that Bard had thought was rather ugly, but Freja had assured him Olga would love. And sure enough, she gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

'Why, Bard… it's perfect…'

'Something by which to remember us,' he said cheerfully. 'I hope the memories aren't too sour.'

'But of course not!' she cried. 'Oh, the children, dear little things – I shall miss them so! Be sure to remember me to them! And your dear wife, such a good girl… Oh, come here!'

Without warning, she surged forward and wrapped Bard in a hug that knocked the breath out of him. After a moment, he returned it.


That night, Stefan, Trina, Kristoff, Hans, Olenka and little Rolf came to farewell the house. The meal that Freja put up was a good sight more impressive than the one they'd eaten last time, now that they had the silvers with which to buy it.

'Here's to solving mysteries and getting rid of bad smells!' Hans cried, raising his glass, and the rest of them did the same.

'I move for a new rule on the boat,' Stefan said. 'Whatever catch we make, we pool it and split it evenly.'

'Agreed,' Hans said. 'What do you think Bard?'

'Actually,' Bard said, glancing over at Freja. 'I'm sorry to say I'll be leaving the boat.'

'That's ridiculous!' Trina said. 'Five hundred silvers are a lot, but it is not enough to live on, certainly not after buying a house.'

'I know,' Bard said. 'But I was also thinking of buying a barge.'

'Oh, I think that's a wonderful idea,' Olenka said. 'And I think you will make a wonderful bargeman.'

'We'll miss you on the boat, though,' Stefan said with a frown. 'The haul will be a good sight smaller with only two men.'

'Well, we were thinking about that too,' Freja piped up. 'And I remembered that Kristoff was unfortunately out of a job because of us…'

Kristoff's wide face lit up. 'Da! I could fish on the boat with you! Inge wouldn't mind marrying a fisherman!'

Hans rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his wine. 'What shall be shall be,' he said gloomily. Bard laughed.

'Don't complain. You'll have someone to do all the heavy lifting now.'

'Well, here's to our futures,' Stefan said, raising his glass. 'May they be bright and filled with friends.'

'To the future,' Bard echoed with the others, raising his own glass. He met Freja's eyes, and he filled with warmth. He had a feeling it was going to be bright indeed.


They planned to move out the very next morning, so after their guests all went home, Bard and Freja packed up the last of their things so they could be moved to the bigger house the next morning.

The kitchen was last, and they passed between themselves the bottle of expensive wine he'd bought that afternoon. The last things to come down were the dried bunches of herbs hanging from the rafters, but as Freja grabbed the last one, the firelight glinted off something metallic.

She frowned and reached up to grab it down, staggering when it was a lot longer and heavier than she'd expected. It was like a pointed pole of black metal, almost as long as she was tall.

'What's this?' she asked, puzzled.

'Oh,' Bard said, coming over and taking it from her. 'The black arrow.'

She frowned. 'The what?'

'It's supposed to be used to kill the dragon,' he said, fingering the sharp point. 'It's the only one left from the sacking of Dale.'

'And why on earth do you have it?'

'Because my forefather was Girion of Dale,' he said, leaning the arrow against the wall. 'Girion of apparently terrible aim.'

Freja shot him an incredulous look. 'You mean to say that... you are technically the king of Dale?'

He snorted. 'And a great lot of good that does me. I am the ruler of a ruined city, crawling with rats. Bow before me.'

'That means I'm the queen,' she said, her voice suddenly awe filled. Then she frowned again. 'How in the world were you the king of Dale and so poor?'

He laughed. 'Doesn't matter now. The new house is like a castle compared to this place, and we will still have silvers to spare.'

'Just wait till the Master catches wind of it,' she muttered. 'He'll tax us like nothing else.'

He came to stand before her, putting his hands on her waist. 'It won't matter,' he said. 'I don't care.'

And then he kissed her possessively, and she melted into him and wound her arms around his neck before remembering herself and pulling back.

'No. You said we had to finish packing first.'

'We have finished packing.'

'Well… that black arrow, it's not going to fit in a box.'

He sighed. 'No, I suppose it isn't.'

'Should we just toss it into the Lake, then?'

He grinned. 'Maybe we should. I can't imagine I'll be needing it any time soon. Or ever, for that matter.'

'Let's keep it, just in case,' she said. 'A reminder that no matter how poor you are, or how little you bathe, you're really a king.'

He snorted. 'I bathe.'

'I beg to differ.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'If you didn't want to kiss me, that's all you had to say…'

Immediately, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips hard against his. His arms encircled her waist, and he pulled her up to him. Before he knew it, her tongue was brushing against his, and he couldn't help but groan.

Freja pulled back slightly at the sound and grinned. 'I intend to do much more than kiss you tonight,' she whispered.

He nodded quickly, his breathing shallow. 'I think the packing is done.'


One chapter to come after this!