(AN: As much as I have reconciled with the South, and though I'm not 100% Southern, I do respect that aspect of my life [12 years long, in fact], a good deal of my worst experiences were in the South - including moments of profound closed-mindedness to the obvious. For instance, another name for Southern Sweden is Götaland, or Geatland by some translations. I tried to tell this to my Senior English class while discussing Beowulf and the whole class laughed me to scorn...even though I was right and that is actually a real word and classification.)

(Ranting aside, I'm gonna have to force myself to finish this. Who knew I could actually find myself bored with a tale of Norse Mythology?)

An Unexpected Arrival

The two waited what seemed like an impossibly long time at the bottom of Fire-hill.

"Do you think he'll really do it?"

"Do what?" Fiyero asked.

"Bring her back."

"He left, didn't he?"

"But he might not." she stated.

As if in final answer to both of their questions, there was a loud neigh rising up from the top of Fire-hill. The huge gray form of Grani bounded out of the edge of the fire. It was daylight, the morning was waning away without them, and they could see the huge war-horse at the top of the hill. With another neigh, it sped down the hill as fast as the wind.

At the bottom, beside the two Ozians, the horse stopped. On its back was Sigurd, as same as before, but with him was his guest. A woman about as tall as Elphaba, though not as horribly thin as she, sat on the back of the horse, with her long, strong arms wrapped around Sigurd's chest. They noticed that she was wearing armor, like a man, but had long flowing blond hair that shone like a lake of gold.

"Fiyero, Elphaba," Sigurd said to his guests. "This is Brynhildr."

"Vel møtt" she greeted each of them with a nod.

"Hello to you too." Fiyero replied, though he was a little slow, his eyes mesmerized by the two gray eyes of the warrior woman. "My name is Fiyero and this is..."

"Elphaba," she added. "I'm his wife." She then muttered, "More or less."

"Now, if you will excuse us," Sigurd said. "We must be off."

"Going?" Elphaba asked.

"Well yes," he returned. "I must return to Götaland, the land of my fathers."

"Why?"

"Well," Sigurd continued. "I am a prince, after all. I have gold, a horse and a wise woman for my own." Brynhildr smiled at his complement. "Now I've got a kingdom to claim."

"Well, we'll go with you." Elphaba said. "Won't we, Fiyero?"

He nodded. "Yes, of course."

"You should lead your woman, Fiyero," Sigurd commented, with a tiny smirk. "Not the other way. Even so, are you willing to brave the sea to reach Götaland?"

They both nodded.

"Then you can follow on behind," Sigurd stated a little too arrogantly.

He kicked Grani's flanks and the horse took off. Fiyero and Elphaba exchanged glances, shrugged and then urged Nessa to ride on after them.

The earth moved in huge waves of green turf on all sides as the horses galloped hard across the plain. The pale gray Grani and the black Nessarose tore through the grass like Sköll and Hati across the stars, forever chasing Sunna and Mani until the day the the sun shall die and the moon shall be devoured: the day of reckoning.

Day passed into night, and Sunna returned from the other side of the world to shine down upon the Rhineland.

The morning was still young, with the sun rising out from beyond the hills that led to the Donau River, which the Carolingians called the Danube. The shadows were still long, and the riders were still a little groggy from being woken up early for the next stage of their ride.

"Se det!" Brynhildr shouted, pointing towards the top of a distant hill. "En rytter er på bakken!"

Far away, in the direction the shield-maiden pointed, there was a small speck moving upon the top of a hill.

"I wonder who it could be." Fiyero said.

Elphaba, however, was keeping her eyes locked upon that little figure. Her magic was aiding her vision, making it as sharp as the eye-sight of an Elf.

She was smiling.

"Ride, Fiyero!" she insisted.

"But we don't know who it is!" he returned.

"I know exactly who's there," she said happily.

"What about us?" Sigurd asked, a little annoyed that he was being left in the dark.

"It's my friend!" Elphaba said with a smile on her face. "We'll have to part ways here, if that's well with you."

"I will certainly miss you," Sigurd said.

"Odin være med deg, kvinne." Brynhildr said in farewell. "Fred være med deg, prins Fiyero."

Fiyero couldn't help but smile, even at risk of being jabbed fiercely in the rib by Elphaba.

"Oz-speed, both of you!" Fiyero answered.

"Remember," Elphaba said. "Don't make her wait for you, be there for her."

"I will." Sigurd smiled.

Nessarose neighed and ran off towards the speck.

"Farväl, vänner!" Sigurd called back, in his native Geatish language.

The horse was galloping faster than the wind. The figure could not be clearly seen, and the morning sun was shining off the blue dress she wore.

Elphaba checked Nessa and lept off faster than Fiyero could tell her to wait. She ran the rest of the distance towards the rider. In response, the rider also jumped off her horse and ran towards her. She threw herself into Elphaba's arms, and the formerly green witch hugged her so hard she lifted her up off the ground.

"Glinda!" she cried. "I can't believe you're alright!"

"Whoa, Elphie!" the blond returned. "What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know," the witch said, tearing up in her eyes. "I'm so happy to see you again." She squeezed Glinda again. "How did you ever manage to escape Worms?"

"I'm not without my means, Elphie." the blond said with a smile. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Of course you're not!" Elphaba laughed, hugging the blond once more.

Elphaba showed Fiyero the returned blond, to his surprise and satisfaction.

"I have the most splendiforous news, Elphie!" the blond exploded with glee. "I've been reading that musty old book..."

"The Grimmerie?" Elphaba asked. "Do you have it with you?"

The blond pointed to her horse, where it sat on the horse's side.

"And, well," she continued. "I think I found the spell to take us back to Oz."

"You did?" Elphaba exclaimed. Once again she seized the little blond with her arms and lifted her up off her feet.

She was not thinking, did not recall that there would be no Oz to go back to, especially since all of Oz thought that she was dead and gone, not to mention wicked.

"We can finally go home!" Glinda returned.

Elphaba nodded. She turned over to Fiyero and waved him over. The prince brought Nessa closer to them, slowly trotting along-side.

"Are you ready to go back home, Elphie?"

Elphaba bit down on her lower lip.

"I don't know, Glinda." she returned. "Remember how I left."

"I'll be sure to send us somewhere remote," Glinda assured her friend. "Like the Vinkus or the Quadling marshes."

"Good thing you're not..." Fiyero received a painful fist-strike to his shin before he could continue. "Ow...allergic to midges."

"Nice save," Elphaba facetiously replied. She turned back to Glinda. "Okay, I think we can do this."

"If you're going, I'm coming with you." Fiyero stated. "But what about Nessa?"

"She's coming too," Elphaba said.

"How can we manage it?"

"Here," she waved Fiyero closer. Dismounting, he walked towards Elphaba, calling Nessarose over to follow him. Better than a trained hound, the horse followed after him.

"I'll hold onto her leg," Elphaba stated. "She'll go with us."

"Okay." Fiyero nodded. He knelt down at Elphaba's right, placing his hand on her shoulder while she grabbed onto the horse's leg.

"Elphie," Glinda pleaded. "I need your help with this."

"But I thought..."

"I'll never be as good at magic as you, you know that." she continued. "Please, help me."

Elphaba's long fingered hand seized the soft pink hand of her best friend.

"Ready?" Glinda asked.

Elphaba and Fiyero both nodded. As if in realization of what was happening, Nessa bent her fore-legs into a kneeling position.

"I'll speak the incantation first," Glinda said. "Then we do it together, understand?"

"Yes, dearie."

Hand in hand, the two young women began to weave their spell, while the prince and the horse watched in awe as they saw the lights revolving around the two of them: green and pink moving no longer in opposition to each other, but in concert.

The four of them vanished from the face of Midgard.

(AN: And that's the end of that! Sorry if I sort of ended it abruptly, but I'm just not feeling this story. Wish I could have done more.)

(From what I've read from the Volsungsaga, it's probably not historically accurate for Brynhildr to speak Norwegian, since Icelandic and/or Faroese is closer to the Old Nordic language of the time. That is my nod of respect to the [good] people of Norway, in homage to what has recently happened in your country. It's sad, and the bastard who did those murders should [content deleted.].)

(Okay, enough ranting. I'm still continuing this "Ozian Adventures" series, the musical-verse edition. The new story will be all original, not a cross-over. So maybe you'll enjoy that more than this. Till then, fellow Ozians.)