“You could have easily killed me, couldn’t you?”

Einar nodded from his horse, looking up at the dwarf that rode beside him.

Her mare was three feet taller and hundreds of pounds heavier than his stallion.

“But if I had done that, then not only would Avitue be upset at me, I’d have to find someone else Scrombles is happy to be rid of.”

Laughter came from both women as they rode toward the pass that would take them into the heart of the Nidavellir.

“He is right, Bartia. One can get tired quickly of a bunch of male Vikings. Now tell us, how many years have you been fighting?”

“I have been a warrior for over forty years, but only the last six or so have been anything to discuss. It was like something happened, and suddenly, all those things which were nothing more than stories told by mothers to make their children obey became true. There are rumors of Linnorms now roaming our lands, something that hasn’t happened before Scrombles or I were born.”

Einar noticed Avitue’s eyebrows rising at the mention of a creature many feared.

All these dragon-like creatures… is every realm going to have one?

“Even worse,” Bartia continued, ”are the dark elves and how they have been. It was bad when we had to worry about the ogres, orcs, and other creatures in the mines, but now…”

She frowned, reaching up and tugging on one of her beard braids.

“They have not helped against the hordes and have turned more hostile than usual. I pray you never have to fight them as they do not believe in honor.”

A tap on his arm made Einar look at Avitue, who was frowning.

“The dark elves are a problem? No one mentioned that to us,” she whispered.

“How hostile are they? As in, they openly attack?” he asked.

“Not like most creatures, but you are fair game if you enter their domain. A few camps are set up in the deep, and there is a portal to Svartalfheim at one of them. Most of our trade has shuttered to a halt, which has hurt even more with the mines being closed. They’re known for producing some fine magical items, and the ore they can acquire in some of the deeper areas is impossible to compete with.”

Sighing, Einar scratched the scruff on his chin, wondering what all they were going to have to deal with this time around.

I wonder… if Odin knows about all these problems; no one has mentioned them in the times I’ve died. Thor told me about finding a dwarf, but why has there been no discussion about the dark elves…

“Einar!”

Turning to Avitue and seeing the frown she bore, he smiled.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about how the gods are funny, giving us so many problems to deal with.”

“That doesn’t matter. Look out there.”

He saw where she pointed, a pair of Vikings riding toward them with a large object slung between their horses.

“Is that–”

“They killed a gobraud!” exclaimed Batria. “That is impressive! We shall eat good tonight and you can harvest the horns and balls for your runes!”

“I’m going to kill Guat,” Einar muttered, ignoring his wife’s laughter. “I told them not to do anything stupid.”

“Most likely, they decided to ask what Einar would do, and so they killed it,” Avitue teased.

***

“It charged from over a hundred yards away!” Osvif shouted as he replayed the battle for everyone. “Skardi shouted, ‘Fear not! I shall kill this with a single strike!’ and lept from his horse, axe in hand!”

Laughter came as the shortest Viking mimicked Skardi, walking with a swagger while waving a twig.

“He got about ten yards and realized this wasn’t the average-size boar. When it got within about forty yards from him, he began to back up, shouting for help.”

“It was the size of my mother!” Skardi shouted, erupting with laughter among those who were eating and listening.

“Still, he stood there, legs planted, axe held high. Hogni began to shoot arrows, somehow missing his own friend.

Making plinking sounds, Osvif began to shake his head.

“Now, unlike every other creature we faced, the arrows didn’t do anything, so I started shouting at Skardi to run… but did he? Noooo!”

Once more, their tactician mimicked Skardi’s stance.

“So, I’m running toward this idiot, and Starkard is coming up behind me, shield and spear in hand, and all I can think is he’s going to die and blame me for this…Then I knew Einar would also lay this idiot's death at my feet, and I got upset. So I did what any sane Viking would do.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Shifting his stance slightly, Osvif began to focus, and fire began to form on his hands, earning some applause and cheers from the men and women.

“I let that anger and rage take over, turning my much shorter axe into a weapon that Einar owned when he was three, playing with the gods.”

Their leader groaned as Avitue shoved him, ignoring the wink Osvif shot in his direction.

“Like a fool, I shouted, charging the beast, and when I realized the error of my decision, tossed my flaming axe just as Einar had at that troll!”

The stick that was slightly engulfed with flames was chucked into the fire, and sparks rose, sending up a show of lights into the night sky.

“Now then, unlike that troll, all my weapon did was smack it in the face.”

Howls of laughter echoed across the land as every Viking gathered and watched Osvif rub his face after admitting such a thing.

“Thankfully, even a blind squirrel finds a nut because that is exactly what I found! The gobraud stumbled, tripping over itself and these two mighty warriors raced forward, hacking and spearing it until it died while I stood there, wondering why my weapon didn’t cleave the beast in half!”

Turning to point at Skardi and Hallad, Osvif bowed.

“So give all the honor and thanks for tonight's meal to these two warriors, who keep me alive and provide fresh food for everyone!”

“Skol!”

After a few cheers from the men and women, both warriors sat on the log they had been resting on, laughing as Osvif joined them.

“Seems your men are great storytellers,” Avitue said. “How much of that tale is true?”

“Apparently, most of it is from what each of them has recounted. Osvif was slightly disappointed at his lack of damage, but I’m glad he figured out how to tap into that rage. Soon, you’ll be a wind fury, causing gusts of air capable of blowing leaves off one's porch.”

His wife elbowed him and glared, winking after a moment and then picked up another strip of meat that had been waiting to cool beside them.

“Don’t expect me to do that. We’ll have thralls who handle the cleaning. Besides, will our life ever be one where we can simply sit and not do anything?”

Pulling her a little closer, Einar shrugged.

“Never had I imagined finding love. All I can think about right now is the task before us. Perhaps one day, when Ragnarok is not looming over us, we can consider things like a home and children.”

Her head snapped around quickly and a pair of green eyes narrowed at him.

“Einar Sibbison, are you telling me you want children?”

Waving a hand, he shook his head.

“Not yet. There is not time for such a thing but perhaps one day. Provided they are boys, as I’m not sure I could handle a little girl who wraps me around her finger like you did your father.”

She began to chuckle and then let out a sigh.

“You surprise me, and yet… one day I look forward to that. Hopefully, our children will have red hair and can grow a beard, unlike their father.”

His hand found her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her. He was content with the moment he had and glad that there might be a future where such things could be possible.

***

“That looks like a death trap,” Osvif muttered as the caravan stopped outside of the pass. “How far does it go?”

“Half a day,” Bartia replied. “With this many wagons, we will want to rest outside tonight and set up a few fires deep within. The giants shouldn’t come out here, but occasionally, one does come through.”

“And what happens to them?” Einar asked.

“They often roam around before returning. We do not fight them anymore unless we must. If possible, it has been declared something we must avoid because they endanger lives. This type of giant is a threat because they attack whatever they see without regard for size or numbers. There used to be large herds of gobrauds, but now those numbers have been cut down.”

“Do the gobrauds ever kill a giant?” Avitue asked.

“In the beginning, some did, but it has been years since I can remember that happening again,” Bartia replied. “The old ones are gone and the younger ones are not as strong. Had your Vikings encountered an old one, I doubt any of the four would have survived that fight.”

“What would you have us do?” Jepi asked as everyone stood around waiting for instructions.

“Set up camp, get a few bonfires going like Bartia recommended. We’ll circle up, have some warriors on watch, and get some sleep. In the morning, we’ll send in the scouts an hour early and follow behind. Osvif will determine the order and what our plan will be in case something attacks.”

“We’ll take the first watch if you allow it,” Vidar said as he raised a hand.

“Bah!” exclaimed the leader from Bradmannes. “You just want to sleep all night!”

“Which is why I offered first!”

Smirking, Einar nodded and turned to look at all the wagons behind them on the dirt road.

“Vidar’s pack can go first. If you want, your warriors can go last.”

“We’ll take it!”

“Einar…”

Winking at his wife and ignoring the tone he knew too well, the expedition's leader grinned.

“The shield maidens will take the second watch, and my pack will sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll take the second watch.”

No one complained, and the two pack leaders moved away, talking with each other. Einar turned to see Bartia studying him.

“Have a question?”

“The way you lead is different. Scrombles rarely let us offer advice, and if we gave it, he would sometimes choose to ignore it even if he knew it was good.”

“Why do you think he did that?” Einar asked.

“To teach us to not speak unless we were spoken to,” the dwarf replied. “Our culture isn’t one of advising unless your beard has reached a certain length, and none of ours has reached that yet.”

“But your beard and Scrombles were almost the same length,” Thorodd said.

“That’s because they trim it,” Thorvee chimed in. “It’s not about the actual length. It’s how old they are.”

“Your healer is right,” Bartia stated. “Dwarves are very respectful of those older than us… or we’re supposed to be. Sometimes my temper gets the best of me, and I forget that, which is why I am here with you all.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Avitue said. “Now then, if you don’t mind, I need to go and make nine women very upset about how we somehow drew the short straw for watch.”

As the group began to thin out, heading toward the caravan and to handle the tasks that had been given, Osvif and Thorodd waited with Einar, having turned their attention back to the pass.

“You don’t look happy. Tell me, what is so bad with this?”

The shortest of the three grunted and pointed at the walls of the pass.

“Someone spent a lot of time making those smooth. You can also see where they built ledges to catch rocks that fall. That means we can’t use a rock slide or any other kind of trap in there. If we fight inside, we’re going to have to do it the old-fashioned way and against a foe much taller and stronger than us.”

“But you have a plan?” Thorodd asked.

“I do… but remember, we’re about to face a giant. None of you have faced one, and everything we are about to attempt is based on Hersirs and Jarls' advice. Soon, we all know the time will come and my prayer is that the All-Father will keep most of us alive.”

“Just as long as I’m one of those, I’m good with it,” Thorodd joked.

All three men chuckled and stared down the opening that would take them into the real part of Nadavellir.

The next adventure was really going to begin.