(AN: I'm thinking about this story a little differently, as something that I will come back to but not yet wholly finish. Right now I'm running out of ideas, and unless I'm fully into this story, it won't go very far. You know what I mean? You've got to put your heart into these stories or you won't enjoy writing or reading them.)

(All will be explained in detail later on, and all the loose ends will be tied up...eventually. All credit for the Volsungsaga goes to the original author/Snorri Sturluson the compiler, not I.)

Don't Wait

As fast as Grani was, Nessarose galloped enough to keep up with him. Even laden down with gold, the stallion was built like a war-horse and could carry heavy loads. Nessarose, however, was thin and built for speed. Grani could run fast, like his father before him, but his specialty was carrying as well, and he carried four bags of gold. Nessarose had nothing more to carry than Elphaba and Fiyero.

No wonder she could keep up.

It was close to dusk when they at last came, by long roads, to a stop. The sun was going down, but there was a light coming from a hill still a few miles to the northwest. Fiyero was reminded sharply of a time when he and Elphaba saw Weathertop from afar. It brought back many memories, some happy and some sad.

Times were definitely different then.

Elphaba, however, was thinking of something completely different. Her thoughts kept going back to the Glittering Heath, and what happened when she put on the Helm of Fear. It was nothing more to her than putting on her hat (somewhere in Oz, she believed. It seemed like forever since she wore her favorite tall-peaked hat), but the way Sigurd and Nessarose, especially Fiyero, looked at her when she put it on meant that something else happened. Judging by the way they looked and spoke at her, she knew exactly what happened when she put the helmet on in their presence. They saw her as everyone in Oz had seen her...

As a green freak.

All the hideous memories flooded back into her mind. From her childhood of neglect to being abused by her sister Nessa's nannies and governesses because of their abhorrence for her skin color: especially that first day at Shiz, and the ensuing chaos that happened in Oz.

She did not want to live that again. She had the chance to be normal again and she didn't want to give it up. It was wrong, she knew, to be ashamed of her skin color. It wasn't her fault...or was it? She yearned to be "normal", to be popular: that was what she wanted when she believed the Wizard was actually wonderful. Being the scape-goat of Oz's ire was too much for her.

Didn't she deserve happiness? Didn't she, once in a while, deserve to be selfish? Couldn't she have what she wanted, what she needed, what she had been denied her entire life?

"There it is!" Sigurd said, pointing to the fire upon the hill. "The Fire-hill. I'll go up there by myself and return when I'm done."

"Why can't we come with you?" Elphaba asked.

"Can that little dog of yours jump through fire?" Sigurd mocked.

Nessarose neighed loudly in protest.

"Be careful." Elphaba insisted.

"Hey, you're talking to someone who killed a dragon." Sigurd returned haughtily. "I think I'll be safe."

"No need to remind us." Fiyero stated. Then a thought came to his mind. "Hey, if you're going to be jumping through fire, why not lighten Grani's load a little bit?"

"What do you mean?" Sigurd returned.

"I mean that gold." Fiyero answered, pointing to the bags on the horse's back.

Sigurd chuckled. "I don't think so. I wouldn't trust anyone with this gold except for me."

He kicked Grani's thighs and the horse took off into a fast run up towards the Fire-hill. The two watched as the war-horse and its rider galloped up the hill and disappeared into the gathering darkness. Soon they were lost to view, becoming a black speck on an already darkening hill-side.

The light upon the hill flickered a little.

Elphaba's world started to spin, colors flew about her eyes and she realized that she was not breathing anymore.

It was her magic all over again.

Her innate magic, the kind that never needed the Grimmerie to work. It was right there, overwhelming her, like a giant stone upon her chest, keeping her lungs from expanding. When her magic was that close, it had to come out, and it usually did, to destructive ends.

But this did not seem that destructive, she was merely floating through this sea of colors and light.

She found herself upon her hands and knees, a heavy burden upon her back. She could not speak, only see what was happening. Something alighted off her back and she saw the large form of Sigurd walk over towards the middle of the place where they were at: a large stone floor, fashioned in a circle, with walls of fire on all sides.

Lying in the middle of the floor was one clad in armor with a helmet upon the head. Sigurd walked over to the figure and removed the helmet to get a better look at it. A fair-faced woman there was, with long blond hair and eyes shut fast, beneath that helmet. Elphaba could have sworn that she was asleep.

In shock and horror she saw as Sigurd's great strength tore her breastplate off as if it were nothing more than old cloth. Beneath was indeed the body of a woman, pale yet built in strength like that of a man. The bare chest was heaving with breaths and suddenly the eyes flickered open.

There was a loud gasp and a pair of hands fell over the chest of the warrior-woman. They were her own hands, though unarmored: Sigurd had torn her vambraces off as well, it seemed.

"What strength has broken my armor?" the warrior-woman asked. She gasped, turning to the mountainous warrior who loomed above her. "Who are you, who've woken me from my slumber?"

"I am Sigurd Sigmundson." he answered. "Slayer of the Dragon Fafnir."

She sighed.

"Long have I slept here," she answered. "bound by the might of Odin, for my crimes against the Alfadir."

"You are Brynhildr, the one the birds spoke of?" Sigurd asked.

She nodded. "Helm Gunnarson waged war against Agnar the brother of Audi. Odin wished that Helm would be victorious, but I chose Agnar. For this crime I was banished from my place as a Valkyrie, forced to lie asleep here, behind walls of fire...to be married like a common mortal."

She noticed that there was eagerness in Sigurd's eyes.

"You're a Chooser of the Slain," he said. "It is said that you are full of the lore of great and mighty matters. As a token for waking you, I would know these things."

She removed her hands from off herself and wrapped them around Sigurd.

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked. "I have brought many mighty warriors to their knees, slain many kings, made men shake with fear."

Sigurd only smiled.

"I fear nothing." he returned.

"Good." was all Brynhildr said.

It was almost morning. Fiyero had not slept at all, and he looked on the verge of death. He was holding Elphaba in his arms, who was still non-responsive. She had been that way since Sigurd rode up to the mountain, but this was too long. She was not dead, for her heart continued to beat and her flesh was still warm, but she did not breathe and her eyes were rolled back into her skull and her mouth hung half-way open.

Dawn rose upon the earth.

Suddenly a voice called out, clear and carrying over all the sounds of the morning, like a horn upon the fog-buried shores of these lands.

"'Hail to the day come back! Hail, sons of the daylight! Hail to thee, dark night, and thy daughter! Look with kind eyes a-down, on us sitting here lonely, and give unto us the gain that we long for. Hail to the Aesir, and the sweet Asynjur! Hail to the fair earth, fulfilled of plenty! Fair words, wise hearts, would we win from you, and healing hands while life we hold.'"

Elphaba's eyes blinked.

Fiyero almost cried when he saw it.

"Fae! You're alive!"

She nodded, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"I'm hungry." she commented.

"How can you be talking about food at a time like this?"

"W-What?"

"You didn't breathe all night! You had me worried!"

Elphaba rubbed sleep out of her eyes and turned to look at Fiyero.

"You look awful." she stated.

"This is nothing," he answered. "You should have seen me when I was looking for you, back in Oz."

"You know," she began. "You never told me why you joined the Gale Force. I thought you had become like everyone else, that you'd changed."

"I had changed, but not that way." he said. "I knew that the Wizard was looking for you, and I thought..."

"Don't hurt yourself." she commented a little playfully.

"I thought that if the Wizard found you, I would never have the time to tell you what I wanted. So I thought I'd join the Gale Force and hopefully find you first. You don't know how many long, sleepless nights I spent, thinking about you, afraid that I'd never get the chance to tell you how I really felt about you, kicking myself in the head for being so stupid, so silly, to not say something beforehand."

He placed his hand beneath her chin.

"I shouldn't have made you wait for me." he answered.

She brushed his hand aside.

"I know I..." Elphaba cleared her throat. "I swore to never think about anything but the Animals...but I wanted to see you too. I was tired of waiting too, a-and when Boq said that there you and Glinda were..."

"Engaged?"

Elphaba nodded. "I knew I'd waited too long. I had to do something, or I'd be trapped in doubt for the rest of my life. I can't live in a world of doubt, Yero."

"Well, there's nothing about me you need to doubt, Fae." He kissed her, feeling truly alive this morning. "I've got you, and that's enough."

She smiled, blushing a faint shade of pinkish red rather than her usual violet.

As soon as she had, her eyes almost exploded to the size of saucepans.

"Something's wrong, Yero." she said, looking up to the hill. "He's not bringing her back."

"Who?"

"Brynhildr."

"Wait, how do you know she's up there?"

"I don't know, I just know it."

Fiyero shook his head. Sometimes he could not make sense of what she was talking about half-the-time when she had these episodes of her magic.

For surely, that was what it must have been.

A horse neighed from the top of the hill. From above, Sigurd galloped down on Grani's back.

Elphaba's prediction was right.

"What kept you?" Elphaba asked.

"I had to...gather some knowledge." Sigurd answered. "Now...we can go."

"Wait, no, you can't!"

"And what makes you think you can order me around?"

"I know who's up there!" she said. "Brynhildr! That's the whole reason you came here. You have to go back for her."

"She's right," Fiyero said, rising up to her side.

Sigurd scoffed. "You're siding with her?"

"Well, you can't keep a lady waiting." he answered. "Believe me, I learned that the hard way."

Sigurd's face wrinkled in thought. Only the singing of birds filled the air between the three as they waited for an answer...anything...

His legs kicked Grani's flanks, making the horse rear up on its hind-legs, before charging back up the hill.

Elphaba smiled at Fiyero.

Things were looking up for them.

(Yes, a twist! I've changed the story somewhat! I like Sigurd/Brynhildr better than Sigurd/Gudrun, ergo the change. It may be minor, but I want a different ending to this story than just a sad, tragic one from the original. But how exactly it will end is beyond me: just know that these two will die, though not as they did in the original saga. That was hardly heroic)

(And what I've dropped off here was enough mental food to get some people guessing on where I'm going, so if you can I'll give you virtual pie/cake. Yes, that quotation was directly from the Volsungsaga, where Brynhildr greets the morning, and her dialogue with Sigurd was more or less derived from it)