Wolf Den - Lìfa-Saga Book 2

III.

Stepping out from the mead-hall, Lìfa had to shield her eyes from the morning sun reflecting from the white snow. As weeks passed by, winter's sharp claws had loosened around the land, letting springtime slowly claiming its kingdom back. The ground was still slippery from snow, but each day more sunshine came down to melt it away. The thick ice keeping the sea in a frozen numbness had cracked and the waves began to move and fight their way up to the surface again.

As she carried her gaze upon the small hill by the shore, her eyes got caught up on the form of a tall man with broad shoulders, struggling to lift an enormous piece of wood.

"For fuck's sake, Carolus! Put that lute down before I shove it up somewhere you don't want me to, and come help me!" Bjarne's thundering voice filled the air, making a small smile spread across Lìfa's face. "This forsaken arch is heavy as Mjollnir*!"

The skald sat on one of the several benches lined up on the small hill, practising a new song.

"Instead of bear, your name should mean cryin' little girl who can't lift a small stick on his own!" Carolus let out an annoyed groan, not willing to leave his place, but seeing the thunders bolting from behind his friend's eyes, he finally put his instrument aside and walked up to Bjarne.

The two men grabbed the heavy object and while shouting several curses and the names of all known gods, they managed to make it stand. It was an arch carved out of heavy wood, covered with many figures, gods and blessed runes. They set it up on the top of the hill, providing a beautiful landscape from there to the awakening sea.

The cracking of a nearby fire and the heavenly smell of roasted meat made Lìfa tear her gaze away from the arch and her friends. As she turned back to the town square with her stomach grumbling, she found a group of women slowly spinning a wild boar above the fire and preparing other delicious foods in several bowls. The sound of their laughter and chatting merged together with the voices of their children happily running around and decorating everything with colourful ribbons and beads.

Meanwhile, Ivar and Olaf carried more benches and chairs in front of the arch, organizing them into two columns. Close behind them walked the happily whistling Halfdan, carrying a big pile of fox, wolf and bear furs, covering every seat  to make them more comfortable and warm in the sharp wind.

Anywhere she turned her face, Lìfa saw the town burning in hasty preparations of an event quite unusual in wintertime. The air was thick with excitement and anticipation, she could feel it with every breath she took. With each moment passing by, the ritual came closer and her stomach shrunk into a more tiny ball. With longing eyes, Lìfa watched the townspeople decorating the arch, carrying there more benches or just cooking food for the big feast. She wanted to be part of it, to share their joy and excitement, but something was holding her back. A feeling she couldn't name looming over her head like a dark cloud, turning everything into grey.

"Can't believe this day had finally come." Sveinn's voice pulled Lìfa out of her thoughts. Stepping out to the sunlight, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. With a smile, he took a deep breath of the morning air. "I'm so excited! You too?"

Seeing the flourish sitting on his face, Lìfa couldn't help but force her lips into a pained smile too.

"Yeah, can't wait for it." She tried to sound as enthusiastic as she could, and hoped that it would cover up her mixed feelings. For her luck, Sveinn didn't seem to notice as he just placed his chin on top of her head, staring at the hill and the busy people. For a while, they stayed in this comforting hug, but in thought they were far away from the other.

"Lìfa–" Sveinn broke the silence, but something made him change his mind and stopped.

"Hm?" The sudden silence caught Lìfa's attention, bringing her thoughts back from the far land they wandered off to.