This chapter will be kind of different, as I have tried to incorporate a VERY old Nordic folk song that describes a place like Frida and the rest of the characters visit in this chapter.
If some of you find it weird, well, so do I. It is normal for Nordic folk songs to be kind of strangely written, and they always end with repeating the same line. This is because these songs were always told orally, and so therefore, a recurrent line was always spoken at the end of every verse as to create coherence in the story told with the song. If any of you guys have tried to read some of the old sagas, you will know what I am talking about. Ragnar's saga is for example very hard to read as it consists of a lot of name dropping and references to songs, people, etc. that is hard to keep track of.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy.
The voyage to Heddinge was much longer than Frida had expected. Even as Ragnar had explained to her the road they were to cross to reach the famous moor at this village, she had never estimated it to be so long-lasting and unvarying.
Surely, the landscape that stretched itself around the small group of people that had left Kattegat for the day was indescribably beautiful with its long low fields where clutches of purple ling blossomed over the heathy grounds, the twisting and curvy roads they were riding along like serpents snaking their way in between the flowery fields and lush greenery.
The farther the group traveled into the country, the denser the forestry grew around them and the more fertile the earth seemed to turn under the hooves of the horses pulling them.
But even as Frida sat comfortably in her little wagon, and the summer sun warmed her skin deliciously as they made their way across the country, she soon grew bored with the landscape around her, and she found herself wishing to be riding one of the horses herself. Then, she would have been able to ride freely among the people of the group, making random conversation like the rest of them.
Instead, she had been placed in the trunk of a little sturdy wagon, Ragnar's orders, which was steered by Ubbe and Hvitserk. They were the only children of Ragnar's who had been allowed to come with them on their voyage, and they had been exceedingly joyful when they were given the duty of directing the wagon, so their current mood were colored with excited voices and overdriven laughter.
It made the voyage a little more comfortable for Frida, as she could not help but to smile from the exchange of cheerful words and songs that continuously roamed between them.
As the two young voices started singing a song that Frida had not heard before, she turned her face curiously to them in front of her, and she listened carefully to their words as the group progressed through the lush Danish landscape.
*"I rested my head on the Elf-hill tall,
where my eyes lay dormant,
two virgin maidens swiftly approached me all,
they wanted to speak with me fragrant.
Since I saw her first.
One maiden in her palm my white cheek had,
the other she whispered with a glance:
'Awaken, young fair lad!
Oh, do you wish to join the dance?'
Since I saw her first.
'Awaken, young fair lad true!
Do you wish to join the cheer?
My maiden shall a story sing to you,
the most beautiful of songs, if you wish to hear.'
Since I saw her first."
Frida found herself smiling carelessly as she listened to the story being told in the song, and while her eyes traveled to Ragnar's broad shoulders hovering over the horse trotting in front of her wagon, her thoughts wandered aimlessly under the blaring midday sun.
She wondered what it must have been like to be raised in a land like this.
Would she have been where she was today?
Would she have been how she was today?
The many children whom she had gotten to know since her arrival here in Kattegat all had some sort of deeper natural understanding of things, of life all things considered, than the children she remembered from her old homeland.
It was as if they knew that life was a gift they were to appraise and uphold, yet, they enjoyed richly from the old stories and wordings of the past like every child in Northumbria would do.
However, Frida concluded as she eyed Ubbe and Hvitserk singing above her, it was as if they knew that the stories were to be listened to, learned from, carried along to the future generations as acquired knowledge of the past.
"One maiden started to sing her song,
so fair above all of the women,
and the struggling current stilled on,
as before the water ran rinsing.
Since I saw her first.
And the struggling current stilled on,
as before the water ran rinsing,
the little fish in the river swam,
they played with their fins.
Since I saw her first.
And all the fish in the river swam,
they played with their tales,
all the birds that in the forest were,
they started chirping in vales.
Since I saw her first."
The sound of hooves over mush earth had Frida looking around, realizing that the nature around them had turned swampier as the song prolonged, the now damp air clinging to her skin like the sticky porridge Ragnhildir always had for breakfast, and the greenery around them darker.
She sensed how the entire atmosphere of the forest they were currently passing through had changed, and how a deep silence had surrounded them, as if they were the only living beings there.
Still, the forest seemed to cloud a certain air from the roots of the tall trees that towered over the small group, and Frida quickly felt a nervous shiver run down her spine as her eyes traveled over Floki's figure further down the path. Maybe they were getting close.
"'And hear, young fair maroon,
would you with us stay,
then, we would teach you book and rune,
for you to read and play.'
Since I saw her first.
They danced along, and they danced beyond
all in the elvish voyage adored,
while the fair young lad sat on
resting with his sword.
Since I saw her first.
'Hear us, fair young lad of life!
Will you not speak with us?
For it is known that sword and keen knife
your heart must hole up.'
Since I saw her first."
Even though the boyish voices twittered the song with beams of innocence and childish smiles, there was still a tone of warning in their tale, an immediate cautioning resounding as the story unfolded between them.
Frida easily pictured two beautiful elvish girls moving in dances from the edge of the forest towards an unsuspecting young and tiresome warrior, how they would persuade the unwary lustful man to come with them to their kingdom to learn the arts of the books, and how their beauty would fool, spellbind him even, to have their ways with him.
The two elvish maidens Frida pictured in her head bore the same decorated and most stunning features, both of them shining with long snowy blonde hair and frosty ice blue eyes.
When Frida found herself staring thoughtlessly at Ingeborg, who was riding close to her wagon on the path, she quickly shook her head and turned her eyes away, feeling her cheeks heat when she noticed Ingeborg was staring back.
Frida cleared her throat and silently prayed that Ingeborg had not taken notice of her lengthy glare.
"I have never heard this tale before," the chirping voice of the Götaland princess spoke as she nodded her head in Ubbe and Hvitserk's direction, earning Frida to close her eyes shut for a quick moment, "Have you, my lady?"
Frida hissed out under her breath, and she quickly turned to smile at the Geat beside her.
"No, this is also my first," she breathed from stiff lips, still trying to push the image of the elvish maidens looking exactly like Ingeborg out of her mind.
A weird expression flashed over Ingeborg's face as her eyes traveled quickly to Ubbe and Hvitserk behind her.
"Oh," she spoke shortly, her lips forming a small 'o' as she glared back to Frida, some look of disbelief easily recognizable in her icy irises.
Frida wondered why this would come as a surprise to her, and she raised an eyebrow at the princess.
Frida could see her trying to control the expression over her face in an effort to conceal her doubting of Frida's words, but Frida simply shrugged her shoulders, saying in an apologetic tone: "I'm still learning about the Norse way of life, but there is so much knowledge to acquire, it can be overwhelming sometimes, as you surely understand."
Frida smiled lightly as she watched Ingeborg widen her eyes, and quickly turned her gaze to her hands that were folded around the straps of the horses' halter in her lap.
A moment of silence passed between the two women, Ubbe and Hvitserk's singing suddenly resounding loudly between them.
"Excuse my ignorance," Ingeborg smiled curtly, "I assumed that… Are you not from here?"
Frida was surprised to hear the baffled tone in her voice, and she felt her lips curling into a wide smile.
"No," she chuckled lightly while shaking her head, "The gods brought me here."
Another wave of silence washed up between the two women, and again Ubbe and Hvitserk's singing prevailed.
"Had the gods not blessed my fortune will,
that the rooster had stroked its wing,
then I would surely have stayed in Elf-Hill
all with those elvish women.
Since I saw her first.
So I counsel every Danish lad,
who riding will in the forest,
do not ride yourself to Elf-Hill glad
and lay your head to sleep.
Since I saw her first."
Frida's lips were curled into an almost invisible smile the rest of the journey to the moor near Heddinge.
She felt proud that the Geats believed her to be Norse, and she remembered Eysteinn's tale of the wife of Ragnar Loðbrók as a descendant of wolves. In a way it made her stomach bubble happily that Ingeborg also believed this.
Ragnar spent most of the journey in the front of the traveling group with Floki, leading them safely through the wild landscape that persisted around them.
As the group finally reached the outskirts of the flourishing forest they had been progressing through for the last hour or so, Frida found herself thinking about the first time she had seen those two Northmen, and how unraveled her mind had been as they had slammed open the doors of the Christian church she had been in.
She remembered how chills had run down her spine when she had seen the malicious grin on Floki's lips, his dark encircled eyes shining devilishly at her from the crowd of the tall and broad Vikings that had come to raid the Northumbrian village.
And she remembered how Ragnar had moved elegantly from the crowd, speaking in his strange throaty language to the priest at the altar, the sounds of his language earning her blood to rush for her ears as he had encouraged for the priest to reveal their treasures.
Frida's eyes roamed over Ragnar's figure as her thoughts wandered, how his braiding fell from his head down over his broad shoulders and to his back, swaying slightly with the trotting of the horse he was riding.
She sensed that they were close to the mysterious moor even before Ragnar raised his hand for the group to come to a halt.
A tingling sensation had started growing from the pits of her stomach as they had reached the thick shrubbery that was the edge of the beech forest, and she stretched her neck to see how the moor had appeared before them as if out of the thin air, majestically stretching itself out before their eyes, gleaming with a unearthly light.
Frida quickly understood why it was said to be the kingdom of the elves.
A strange current seethed through the air around them, an almost magical feeling soon cleaving to the skin of the small group members that slowly entered the swampy grounds of Heddinge.
Frida straightened herself in the wagon, and she could not help but to smile as she found herself glaring at the oncoming landscape before them, her heart filled with childish expectations of the place they were heading.
She hoped to see some of the magical creatures that the songs spoke of. And see if these elvish maidens indeed did look alike Ingeborg.
She was sure of it.
*Fun fact: In Danish, you say "ellevild" when you are really excited about something. This saying has its origins in the stories of the Ellefolk, because the elvish females would make men go crazy, kind of like mermaids or sirens.
