Two guards were moving ahead, leading the caravan along the walls after they had entered the city.

The buildings and architecture were even better than Einar had imagined when he spotted them from a distance.

Here the stone work was impeccable. Soft curves, immaculate gardens, trees that were manicured and high arches gave each house an almost regal appearance.

Even the workshops they started to move by were made of stone, constructed in ways that felt like a noble would own them or perhaps live in them. Each one made the stonework in Kroppr and Kopanes look like children had done it. Only the Capital of Midgard stood a chance of claiming better buildings.

“Makes me feel like I sleep in a pigs pen,” Thorodd muttered. “Did you see that blacksmith forge? It’s cleaner than most of the buildings back home.”

Nodding, Einar watched as a trio of elves worked on some items, one man working bellows while a man and a woman worked in unison, pounding a massive hot block of metal. After a moment, a fourth elf came with a pair of clamps, grabbing the glowing orange piece and turning it before the pair swung again, sparks and scales flew as an almost melodious beat was hammered out.

“That is impressive,” Einar said as he pointed at the work being done. “How come there aren’t that many elves doing work? Even the fields seemed…”

As Lyeneru and Varitan both winced, he wondered what he had done wrong.

“I’m sorry, did I ask something I shouldn’t have?”

“No, you don’t know,” Varitan replied. “We have lost a lot of our brothers and sisters as our world grows darker. Those who have passed are reborn but it takes time for them to mature. Tell me Einar, how many children have you seen so far?”

His eyes widened at the realization of that question.

“None.”

Nodding, the elf frowned for a moment.

“Every child is safe right now in the capital. Slowly they are allowed to join us after they reach a certain age and have gone through training. Gone are the days when our people could be whatever they wanted. Those who worked the fields because they enjoy the connection with the soil and Yggdrasil are fading fast. Groups are being formed to be warriors, rangers, casters and healers. Our path and history is changing and there are many who are greatly distraught at the loss of our artistic side.”

“Artistic side?”

Varitan pointed at the buildings they passed.

“Tell me Thorodd, how many Vikings are painters or… skalds? Do you have large numbers of actors, singers, and musicians? What about those who write stories? Is there a group of those who debate and discuss simply for–”

“Enough.”

“Forgive me,” Varitan said as he bent his head toward Thorodd. “My sister has reminded me that sometimes I get worked up about how our culture and history is vanishing. To lose those things is to lose who Freyr wanted us to be and that… that is a dangerous thing.”

“Who determines what an elf becomes?”

“Einar, that is a simple answer. Our King and Queen have created a school that tests each child upon being reborn. Their strengths and talents are measured and then they are selected for the path that best fits them. It was determined my talents would be best served with a bow and a sword. As such I have been studying as a ranger and the bow I carry is evidence that my decision was correct.”

She pointed at the two swords Varitan had crossed on his back.

“He carries the blades only given to one who has completed the training and survived the trials set forth for our warriors. Not all will have ones like his. Made with a metal we acquire from the dwarves.”

They rode in silence for a minute, the sounds of the horses on the stone beneath their hooves, ringing out.

So many shops sat empty, yet none looked run down. For every four workshops that they passed, only one appeared to have someone working in it.

Finally the question he couldn’t hold back came.

“How many of your people have died? A third? Half?”

A few tears began to form and fall from both of their guides. Neither replied as the horses followed the two guards.

“Half… would be close,” Varitan replied, his voice tremmering. “Many are still waiting to be reborn. Freyr has been slower than many thought but who are we to question him?”

Frowning, Einar felt a weight upon him that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.

Odin had thrust him into this position, demanding from him a task that seemed impossible and yet he accepted it. The chance to save his friends was the driving force behind that decision. Like a fool he had been blind to everything it would cost and require.

A chance… I had to take the chance I could… Can save them!

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Sitting there, lost in his thoughts, he considered what these two had told him.

Odin… am I really destined to try and save their people too? What about the dwarves? And the dark elves? I know both sides hate each other but how can I let one side suffer?

“Einar?”

The soft voice of Lyeneru brought him back.

Facing the two, he sat up straight and set his face.

“I promise to help your people as much as I can while doing what I must to protect all the lives across all the realms. The loss you feel right now, I pray one day may be gone. Perhaps Freyr is waiting till it is safe for all of you to be together again.”

He paused, motioning to the empty crafting buildings near them.

“Until the day everyone of those doors can be flung open and the sounds of your people doing what they love is heard.”

Tears began to fall from both elves and each of them lowered their heads.

Varitan clutched the tooth in his hand and smiled.

“I am grateful for a friend like you that feels our pain and understands the desires of our heart. Once again I am reminded how blessed we are to have Vikings who fight beside us.”

Something was on his face and as Einar went to brush it away, he felt the tears that had appeared. He had been crying and he didn’t even realize it.

***

“I’ll stay back with the others,” Thorodd said as he motioned to the Vikings in the giant warehouse they had been given to stay in. “We’ll set up camp and I’ll start working on a list of things we need from here. Anything else you need done?”

Shaking his head, Einar climbed onto his horse’s saddle. His large stallion stood still, never needing to be commanded as it seemed to sense his intentions. Giving the dark brown neck a good scratching, he sat up and motioned at the others.

“Thorve, Osvif, Hogni and Bodalf are with me for obvious reasons. Just make sure that none of the others go out until we have been given permission. Inform them Varitan has a surprise coming later. He just told me the alcohol I requested will be here tomorrow.”

A large grin appeared as Thorodd started to brush his beard with a hand.

“Elven alcohol. I can’t wait!”

Groaning at the man’s thirst and love for mead, Einar barely touched his knee to his horse's side, turning and joining the rest who were waiting on the stone paved street.

***

The sun still had at least five hours left before it would vanish and the seven of them moved with purpose, not giving them time to really enjoy the easy ride the wide, clean street offered.

Small gardens decorated the front of each home, food growing, available for anyone who wanted.

The large tree they had discussed loomed into view, towering over the tall houses, sitting in the center of town.

Upon reaching one of the main streets, like a spoke, they all came together in the center where the white stone building meshed with the tall tree, almost looking like it was part of the trunk.

“The stonework is magnificent,” Thorve stated. “See how they cause it to move with the tree. It encapsulates it just enough that one almost can’t tell where the two come together. Even the grooves they carved look like the bark.”

Murmuring came from everyone as they drew closer, seeing a large garden, a small spring that ran around the center of the town, roots that rose and fell under the stone, and a massive arch that was twenty feet high, set with matching white doors, all shaped to look like the trunk of the tree.

“It makes breathing almost difficult,” Osvif declared. “I mean… how long did this take to build?”

“They never stop working on it,” Varitan replied. “Those gifted with stone and wood are always adjusting the building. They use the magic inside them to shift the stones, bend the tree, adjust roots and more. It allows both the temple and the tree to co-exist, creating a haven for our god if he wishes to come.”

Their guide led them to a small area near the main garden and dismounted, motioning for them to do the same as he handed his horse to a pair of elves dressed in white robes.

“Do not worry, they shall care for your animals while we are here. If any of them are injured they will also heal them.”

Osvif’s horse had been given the nickname of biter as it was a bit moody to anyone but him. Yet when the attendants came toward the horse, it let out a happy sound and quickly trotted to the pair, enjoying neck scratches before moving to where the other horses had already moved on their own, seeking the fresh cut grass and water that awaited inside a large pen.

“Stop gawking,” Thorve said as she poked Osvif. “They have a magic which is rumored to allow them to communicate with a horse. Only a few elves have ever been able to master it but those who do could actually turn the enemies animals against them.”

Cackling, the healer grinned mischievously.

“Imagine charging at your enemy only to suddenly have every horse or other animal you ride stop as quickly as possible, throwing many of your warriors to the ground before turning and rushing back at the army they once belonged to.”

“Those elves have not been around in so long I am surprised you know about them,” Lyeneru said. “Each day you amaze me with the knowledge you possess of our people.”

“A lifetime spent traveling has helped me. Besides, I once knew an elven mage and while I will not mention his name right now, if I am allowed at the capital I shall seek him out. Most of what I know comes from him.”

Smirking, their elven guide bobbed her head.

“I pray we reach the capital because I would be interested to meet such an elf that would share so many of our stories.”

A cough from Varitan brought them all together and he motioned to the doors that stood open, a trio of elves, covered from head to toe in white cloth.

Hogni coughed as he spotted the images on the three elves.

“That is a–”

Moving with speed that seemed almost impossible, Thorve pinched the Viking, cutting him off.

“Freyr is the god of fertility so yes, that is a phallus, as well as the boar,” she said sharply but quietly. “Now behave like you have some common sense lest you suffer later when we are back at our place. Perhaps I won’t heal you all the way next time if you embarrass us.”

Clearing his throat, Hogni nodded and moved a few steps away from the healer.

As one they moved toward the doors and the trio, feeling a calming effect wash over them as they moved through the garden and to the one who stood waiting for them.

“Heroes of Midgard, welcome to Freyr’s temple. Ithil is inside and waiting for you. If you please.”

With a small bow, the elf turned, somehow seeing where they were going even though no eye holes were cut into the covering.

As they moved to the archway and crossed the threshold of Fryer’s temple, a sensation of someone watching him was almost unbearable.

“Einar?” Lyeneru asked when she saw him stop after taking a step inside.

“Forgive me. I was just lost in wonder at how amazing the temple is.”

Moving to catch up with the others, Einar couldn’t shake the sensation that some god had their eye or eyes upon him.