How had the old man found her? He limped sadly and there was something very familiar about the set of his deep-blue eyes. Elyn stared at him from the depths of her fur-lined hood as he shivered in the cold, biting wind that caused the snow to drift around the camp of the Swedes. He was dressed appropriately for travelling in the Nordic winter, yet he seemed woefully thin and unsteady on his legs. Slow heartbeats passed and she stood dumbfounded with the parchment, sealed with her father's sign held in gloved hands before finally her sense of compassion relented. "Come, old-father. Sit beside the fire and tell me how you found me."
Leading him past the guards, she waved them off. This old man would harm no one and she would bear responsibility for him. They progressed towards her own tent where a small fire burned with a earthen jug of mead thawing by it's side.
The old man laughed and laid a hand on her arm as he spoke in reply: "Elyn, granddaughter of my spirit, I knew where to find you. You will always be found where there is opportunity to test your mettle."
Her steps faltered in their progress and she turned, her own sapphire-coloured eyes wide with surprise and sudden recognition. "Wulfgar, I would never.. why are you here?" A cold premonition grasped hold of her innards, twisting them with a fear she never knew on the battlefield.
"You should read Trygve's letter before it gets dark. Then we will talk." Wulfgar didn't meet her eyes but sat on a log hewn from one of the trees that surrounded the site of the camp. After having stared at him for the space of another heavy heartbeat, Elyn followed his example and broke the seal on the rolled parchment. A strip of fabric loosened and her father's gold band fell into her hand. She felt her own face whiten, Yule would never have given this away.

Darkness fell over the camp and the normal raucous singing began at the central fireside. Normally Elyn would have been part of it but this evening she sat in front of her own meagre fire and stared sightlessly into the flames.
The parchment in her ice-cold hands felt terribly, awfully real yet it's message had her sweating as if she was trapped in a bad dream.

There had been talk of things not being well in her homeland, but the losses had taken on a terrifyingly personal dimension. Yule, her eldest brother and Kaja, her youngest sister were no more. Thordis, the woman who had looked after them all had also been felled by this illness that had ravaged her mother's lands. Trygve had survived, but barely. His shaky handwriting bore witness to the tragedies played out in the once fertile lands.

The wind lessened but silently the snow began to fall, sizzling quietly in the flames. She was barely aware of Wulfgar adding another log to the fire. The gold ring weighed heavy in the palm of her hand and she looked down onto it, watching the flames play across the knotwork of ravens intertwined with rubies and sapphires. She remembered it on her father's hand, as he stroked Kaja's hair. And her own. As he presented her with her first practice sword. Applauding as she roundly trounced Yule in a sparring match.
Yule. With the ring on his own finger as he waved good-bye to his sister setting out on her own journey.
Elyn swallowed hard and rolled the parchment back up, twisting the band of cloth around it.
After trying, she found that the ring fitted onto the thumb of her right hand and finally she looked up at Wulfgar. "He.. he deserved better. They both did." Her face hardened as she closed the feelings of loss in her heart. "What happened to Hrafn? Trygve does not mention his fate."
Wulfgar nodded slowly and handed her an earthen mug of mead heated by the fireside. "You have been away for a long time. When he grew into a man, he left. Perhaps 3 seasons ago. He wished to see the white towers he remembered in his dreams."
A frown drew Elyn's brows together. "Has he followed our mother's footsteps? Or is he merely going to find his fortune?"
"I don't know. We never knew. He seemed to follow his brother but then he just left. Following his dreams, he said."
The young Danish woman curled her lip and blew into the hot liquid held between her hands. "I have memories of the white palace and I have also felt the wish to.. to journey there once again." Her voice grew quiet as the resolution built strength in her mind. "He.. he does not know. Someone needs to tell him that they are gone. That it is all gone and only memories remain."
"Elyn, you look so much like the daughter of my spirit. The all-father may take me back home. Again they might not. But that my old eyes have glimpsed you again is all I wanted. Mine is not the destiny to be welcomed in the hall beside your father."
To this, Elyn simply nodded. What was another loss to add to the heaviness locked into her spirit? Wulfgar, companion to her father, foster-father to her mother and the old warrior who had taught her well. She clasped his arm tightly, partly already saying goodbye in her mind. "Perhaps not, but your place will be remembered in the songs. I will sing your songs when you are gone."
A smile lit up the old man's eyes and he credited her words with a nod.
"I will give orders that you will be given my tent for as long as you wish and that you should be treated as a guest while we stay here. My own path is clear and I will leave tomorrow."

~ ~ ~

In the event, no one had impeded her plans. Her words were accepted by the leader of the army with the credit of someone who had earned her place. No one knew her true name except the few trustworthy friends among the Swedish who she had left short messages for. Thorvald Borson and Svein Skull Splitter would know when their letters arrived.
By that time, Hlifundr was gently trotting toward the South, laden with those few goods that she held dear.
The snow had stopped but the winds had picked up once more but Elyn hardly knew the biting cold as the memory of walls glittering in the sunshine and the spires and turrets of a city seemingly of another world rose before her eyes.

Letter to Thorvald Borson

QUOTE:

Sire, I thank you for the training and campaigns fought under your command and at your side. Your advice will be invaluable in my future, I am sure.
I must move on.
May your hearth always be warm and the Thunderer guide your hand in battle.

Elyn Asta Maleusdottir

Letter to Svein Skull-splitter

QUOTE:
Friend, have I ever thanked you for delivering me from the shores of Ireland? I swear, your crew must have thought me seasick. At least I live in that hope. Surely a daughter of Danmark should be able to hold her spirits.

My time in Sweden has come to an end, I see my path before me. The blood of my father has become a quest and I must seek the South.

The Aesir will always guide you, I have no doubt.

Elyn Asta Maleusdottir