Page 45 of Alien Viking's Passion

The few Ragnhildroses from Craxon’s entourage were looking at her with varying degrees of curiosity, some so intensely it sent a cold shiver down her back. Only one of them seemed friendly; Valtyrr, the big warrior who had come to meet her and Craxon. Well, he’d seen them come down the hill hand in hand and had probably put two and two together, so he’d had time to process it. Whenever she looked at him, he gave her a knowing smirk that she chose not to interpret as indecent.

“From this day on,” Craxon went on, “whenever a young Ragnhildrose asks me, ‘Prince Craxon, tell me about the people of Hjalmarheim!’, I know what to say. I will say, ‘Sit beside me, and I shall tell you about Huskven Eira. For in her story you will find all you need to know about the people of Hjalmarheim. Let us now raise our horns in her honor! For Eira was one of Earl Bragr’s herjere!”

They all raised their horns.

“To Eira!” the Vikings thundered.

It was overwhelming. A lot of tension had been released in Aretha, and she also felt the grief of the sudden loss of her newfound friend. She would have loved to get to know Eira better.

Tears flowed down her cheeks. Craxon noticed and discreetly handed her a piece of soft cloth to wipe them with.

As the myod flowed, there was much weeping and lamenting. Aretha was starting to understand the Viking aliens. They were brash and loud and aggressive, but they also had this emotional side to them. She saw huge warriors, scarred and grizzled, break down in sobs over their dead friend.

After several more speeches, one more slurred than the last, Bragr gave Craxon a sign and both couples bowed for the smoldering pyre before getting ready to retreat.

“Long live King Bragr and Queen Josie!” someone yelled behind them.

Bragr turned and gave the crowd a shallow bow. “Very soon, my herjere! A coronation cannot be rushed.”

They walked to the gildeskal of the jarlagard, the big room where feasts would be held. This was not the time for that, so the fireplace was cold and the room empty.

Bragr sat down in the chair at the end of the long table. “She’s a great loss to the earldom. Thank you for your kind words, Craxon!”

“It was the least I could do,” Craxon said as he guided Aretha into a chair. “Eira sacrificed herself for something that’s important to me.”

“So it seems,” Bragr said. “I’m glad you realize it, too. It has been obvious to everyone else for weeks.”

“A prince is bound by many concerns,” Craxon said, “and not all of them have been resolved. I may soon have to ask you for a big indulgence, Bragr.”

Josie grabbed Aretha’s hand under the table and squeezed it. “I think he’s come to his senses, at last.”

“Looks like it,” Aretha said, making herself comfortable in the chair. The room was dark, and only torches burned on the walls.

The next thing she knew, Craxon was putting her to bed, pulling the blanket over her, and kissing her cheek. “Sleep well, mylove.”

“Stay,” Aretha said, still half asleep. “I need you.”

“I have things to do,” the prince said and stroked her hair. “And you have to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You better.”

14

- Craxon -

Wham!

The hammer struck the red-hot iron, sending sparks raining over the anvil.

Craxon turned it with the iron tongs and struck again, getting used to the feel of the hammer in his hand. It had a different balance than the one he liked back in Ragnhildros, but it would do. It was a small blade he was forging, and it wouldn’t take long.

Using the tongs again, he put the unfinished weapon into the hot coals.

“Highness, may I intrude?” The clear voice came from behind, and he had been expecting it.

“It is indeed an intrusion to disturb a man while he’s in the forge with a red iron,” Craxon growled.

Tyra the Royal Chaperone came into the forge and took up her position by a side wall, out of the way. “Oh, I can carry out myduties while Your Highness is doing his smithing. Although if that red iron is intended to become what I think it is, it would be better if it were left unfinished and then buried.”

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