Page 10 of Viking’s Naughty Elf

I’m prepared for an explosion of anger over my not explaining this sooner, but Chloe glances between the three of us a few times before bursting out into laughter. Bear plops down onto his ass, messing up one of Chloe’s angels, while Waddles slides down his back and lands in a poof of fresh snow before making his way over to her.

“Of course, you would have a docile polar bear and penguin to hang out with.” Sitting up, she offers a hand to Waddles, who just nudges her with his little head for a pet. Bear chuffs until she offers him the same. “You have to explain how this happened.”

“They both just kind of showed up one day. Bear, several years ago. We learned to adjust to each other for a while before he finally came up to me, and then we became companions.” I shrug; it’s nothing glamorous. “Waddles appeared on Bear’s back last spring. I wasn’t sure what to make of them at the time, but they’re best friends, it would seem.” Dropping down next to Chloe, I scratch Waddles' belly as he cuddles into her.

“They’re adorable. But the logical part of me who has seen what a polar bear can do is ready to run faster than the speed of light if he lifts one of those giant paws.” She gives a half-hearted laugh.

“He’s never hurt anyone. There have been a few hunters who have tried to capture him. They learned pretty quickly that I’m scarier than the bear.”

Chloe snorts. “I’m not shocked by that.”

“I’ve got to load this wood and take it to a new family. Would you like to join me? I need to stop at my father’s home, as well. I know he’d love to meet you.” Standing up, I offer her a hand.

With Waddles tucked under her arm, Chloe takes my hand, and I pull her to her feet. “I’d love to. Think this guy would like a drive?” I’ve created a monster.

“You can try.” Chuckling as she puts Waddles down, we start loading up the wood and make it to the Olsen’s with just enough sunlight to spare.

CHLOE

“Erik Eriksson. That must have been interesting growing up.” I smile as I pour the hot water for our tea. Erik, Rune’s father, is the sweetest man I’ve ever met.

“Oh, a real bundle of rabbits.” His booming laughter is magnetic and contagious. “It wasn’t awful. There were a few kids who tried to bully, but our community is outstanding, and it was shut down fast.”

“I know Viking tradition was to give sons a surname with their father's name included, but when did it stop for your family, do you know?” Everything Erik has been telling me about their ancestry will be included in my article, as well as he and Rune and the land they live on, all documented with photos.

“Around 400 years ago, maybe. There are several Eriks in the family, as you can imagine, but I think they finally got tired of changing the names. Creating accurate lineage is hard when everyone has different last names.” We take a sip of tea, the warm liquid thawing my frozen toes.

“Did you grow up ever kinda living under Erik the Red’s name? Was there pressure to be ruthless like him?”

Rune walks in, shaking off his boots and coat before coming to stand behind me, kissing the side of my neck. I can’t help blushing; I’m not used to public displays of affection. But I’m not opposed to it.

Chuckling, Erik grins at his son. “Not me, no,” he finally answers. “My grandfather, however, had a reputation like the man. He was angry and bitter, with a temper to match the fire in his red hair. He certainly lived up to the name.”

I reach across the table to place my hand over his, offering silent comfort when I see the shadows in the older man’s eyes. He gives me a slight smile and a nod before shaking it off. “Let me show you one of the pelts that has been handed down for generations!”

At his boisterous change of subject, I sit back into Rune’s chest and glance up at my Viking lover. He shakes his head and encourages me to follow Erik to see his prized possession. Waddles follows behind me, having never left my side for long since the moment I picked him up this afternoon.

As we enter a room off the kitchen–a home office–there are two ancient or vintage cloaks encased in a large glass protector. “Wow! Those are stunning.” I’m particularly drawn to the white one with streaks of light brown throughout. The thick hood looks like it would keep a person warm, with a long drape hooked closed through the torso of the body.

“These are over a thousand years old,” Erik explains. “They’ve been kept preserved since the wearers of them perished.”

“They belonged to Erik the Red?” I’m utterly amazed.

“And his wife. They’ve been handed down to the first son of each generation once they found their bride.” His eyes sparkle as he looks between us. I’m certain I’m crimson once again.

“Is that so?” I tease him.

“It is, but I don’t want to just give them to the two of you, I want you to wear them as your own. Bring the heritage back to the family. Teach of the Vikings and not only the pillaging and criminality of their lives, but the love, exploring natures, and desires to discover as much as they could with their earthly time.”

He’s so passionate about it that I can only nod my agreement. It doesn’t matter that Rune and I are just learning about each other; Erik obviously sees what we feel and predicts where we’re heading.

“I don’t think I could ever wear something so valuable,” I whisper. The beauty of the cloak is alluring, but the origins are daunting. I’d never forgive myself if something were to happen to it.

Rune snorts behind me and moves in front of us to open the case and pull the garment out. “Rune!” Shouting his name causes the infuriating man to grin like a loon.

“I’m just showing you. It’s been kept in excellent shape. You can wear it.” He drapes it around my shoulders, pulling up the hood and clipping it in place.

Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, I can almost imagine what it was like in the Viking era. Picture the woman who wore this very coat to keep warm and shelter her children on hunts or working around their dwellings.

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