Message of the Runes

-- 1 --

Three brothers labored up a snow-covered grave mound and scanned the forest below for their quarry.

“Look!” Volund pointed toward a small, sparkling lake. “The wolves are heading toward the water. Let us follow.”

His two brothers started off in the direction he pointed, wedging snowshoes sideways into the grave mound and descending into Mirkwood. Volund hung back a moment, stroking his dark beard in thought. He knew that once they crested this mound, they passed from Swartalfheim into the holdings of men, a place other dark elves had visited with ill luck. Still, he expected to be back home before evening. Wolf pelts would be useful this winter. And he saw some shining object by the lake which he wanted to explore. He followed the other two, sinking his squat, muscular body into the snow.

As soon as he saw the way his brothers went, he knew the hunt would fail. The had taken a route which would lead upwind of the pack. The wolves would flee at the scent, and be away by the time the brothers caught up. But the gleam by the lake caught his eye, and he took himself toward it to investigate.

By the lake, Volund was amazed to see there was no snow, and the lake was unfrozen. His brothers were dashing in and out of the trees in a futile attempt to track the wolves. He ignored them, and strapped his snowshoes to his back so he could walk across the scattered rocks by the shore. At last, inside a circle of stones, he saw what had caught his eye: a flat rock with, of all things, some rune written on it in gold. What could it mean? Something told him to lift the heavy stone, and when he did, he cried out in surprise. Here was a hole going straight down into the earth, full of water, with gold nuggets embedded in the sides as far down as he could see. This kind of mine was favored in Swartalfheim, not in the lands of men. But surely no dark elf would make regular trips into Mirkwood.

He plunged an arm into the cold water and plucked out a nugget. He bit it, and laughed. Pure red gold. He slipped it into his boot and replaced the cover stone, then walked in the direction his brothers had gone, toward a cliff face at the other side of the lake. There were mysteries here that he could not grasp: the mine, the runestone, the absence of snow and ice. Volund didn’t know what to make of it.

His two brothers were kicking up some sort of ruckus. When Volund followed the sound, he was astonished to find his brothers in a cave, trying to kill a bear with bows and arrows.

“Look what we found, brother!” exclaimed Slagfid. "Help us kill it!”

At that moment, Egil, hunting knife drawn, sprang out from behind a rock. With a few good strokes amid some misses, he cut the bear’s hamstrings.

“You fools!” Volund shouted. “What way is that to kill a bear, a beast favored by the gods?”

Volund looked into the bear’s eyes, and saw the creature’s pain was beyond endurance. He hated to kill a bear, but it would die now anyway. He stepped swiftly to where it lay prone on the ground, whispered a few words of calming into its ear, and put the bear to rest with sharp dagger across the its throat.

“We did it, clever brother, we did it!” Slagfid was almost dancing with excitement.

“Stop prancing around and get the beast out of here! This was badly done, and nothing to boast of!” Volund looked around the cave, then out at the darkening sky. “Still, I think we will stay here for now. Find some place for the body, and get firewood. I will clean up the blood.”

The hunt had gone wrong, and dark elves should not linger in the lands of men. But Volund had to know more about that mine.

-- 2 --

Soon the brothers had set up a forge, and word got around. Men did not like the dark elves, but valued their skill. They gladly came to the Wolfdales, as the place was known, and paid Volund in goods and metal to work their plows, swords and horseshoes. Slagfid and Egil hunted and helped their brother. When no one was watching, Volund pulled gold from the mine, which he now hid under plain rocks.

They sealed up the cave well enough to live in, and made it comfortable with furniture and firepits. In the long winter evenings, they played games to pass the time. Egil put metal points on some sticks, and they tried to best each other throwing them at a target. At first Volund always lost. He was the shortest of them, and noticed that they always set the target too high for him. He put down a flat stone to stand on, and soon started winning most of the games. Volund grew bored with it after that. He preferred a board game played with stones, a game of mental skill called armies. But he always beat his brothers at this, and soon they would not play.

One morning in early spring, the brothers set out on the mist-covered lake to fish from their boat. Volund noticed that the mist on the other side, near his mine, had taken on a golden glow.

“What is that?” He pointed. “Row over there, quickly. And quietly.”

Egil had the oars, and pulled them smoothly through the water. As they approached, Volund squinted into the mist, trying to make out the source of the light, then trying to believe his eyes at what he saw. He would never have predicted what emerged from the mist.

Three women sat on the lakeshore, spinning. Each had a three-legged stool and a spinning wheel. The hair of two of them was the color of the flax they worked; the other was dark.

Slagfid whispered, “Let us take them back with us to our cave.”

“I think that might be a very bad idea,” Volund replied. He gestured toward a pile of what looked like feathers, white and black, off to one side of the women. “I’ll wager you those are swan skins, and these women are valkyries.”

“I like them no less for that.”

Volund looked at Slagfid with disbelief. “I like them well enough myself, and would enjoy a warm bed, but I think perhaps we should woo them cautiously. I value my life.”

He took off his fur cap and addressed the women. “Good day to you, fair ones. I am Volund the Smith, and these are my brothers, Slagfid and Egil.”

Though he addressed all three, his eye drifted to the dark one, and it was she who spoke. “And I am Hervor. Tell me, what mine is this?”

“It belongs to me, lady.” Volund felt the puzzled gaze of his brothers. “I thought it a secret, but I suppose nothing remains hidden from a valkyrie.”

“Yours, is it?” Hervor smiled. “That is well enough. A clever dark elf is worthy to work red gold. I guess you are capable enough, Volund.”

The brothers were silent, not knowing what to make of her words.

Hervor continued, “All is well, Volund the Smith. The rune has found what it sought, and so have we. Come, help me get up.”

Speechless, he took her outstretched hand. The other two, Olrun and Swan White, took the arms of Egil and Slagfid. The six of them went back to the cave to get better acquainted. The women seemed pleased enough at the surroundings; Hervor looked oddly at the bearskin rug by the main firepit, but said nothing.

Egil and Slagfid were overjoyed at this turn of events; Volund was not so sure.

-- 3 --

Soon the couples were married, and the elves built three houses for their wives. During the days, the women finished their household tasks swiftly, and were soon busy with their strange spinning and weaving. They brought spinning wheels and looms with them, though Volund could not say where these came from. When the afternoon was fair, the women would go to a place in Mirkwood, a ways from the Wolfdales, to practice their battle skills.

In the evenings, the six of them often gathered at Volund and Hervor’s house, the roomiest of the three. They would eat, drink, talk, and play games.

One evening, while Egil and Slagfid were trying to impress their wives with their skill at throwing the pointed sticks, Hervor took Volund aside.

“Show me how to play Armies, the game you talked of with your brothers.”

Volund got out the board and spread out the pieces, light stones on one side and dark on the other. They played a few games together; Volund won the first, but to his surprise Hervor won the next. They were battling in earnest at a third game when she said, “This is like a game we play among my people. Only ours is more complicated; we use runestones. Would you like me to show you?”

He agreed, and she pulled a pouch from her apron. When she emptied it, Volund’s eyes widened. Rounded stones tumbled out, each inlayed with a rune of a different metal, and polished to a high sheen. He picked one up and examined it. The rune, by coincidence it would seem, matched the rune on his gold mine. He set it down and looked at a few others.

“You play Armies using runestones. You must know their meanings, then.” He glanced up to see Hervor smile. “Show me.”

Hervor borrowed a second pouch of runestones from Swan White, and set up the two sets of stones on and around the board. She showed him how to play the game, and each time a rune came into play she explained its most basic meaning. There were layers of meaning, she explained, and Volund would have to learn the deeper meanings with time. The game was more than just a pastime; Hervor found messages about the world by the stones that appeared in the game. It all made his head spin, yet he loved the complexity of it. He vowed to himself that he would make his own set of runestones and learn all the meanings of each one.

At the end of the evening they went to put the runestones away, and Volund found that his hand again moved to the first one he had picked up, the rune that matched the one on his mine. It had never come into play during the game.

“This one, Hervor. What does it mean?”

“Ah. That is the yew rune.” She folded his fingers around the stone, her hand over his fist, and moved them together over his heart. She looked into his eyes and said, “A deeper meaning of the rune is this, that it represents the dark elves. That is why you are attracted to it.”

-- 4 --

For seven years they lived together happily. Volund used the gold he mined to make many rings, as they called the armbands a man or woman might wear. On each one he engraved a rune or combination of runes, as he learned their many meanings. He kept these rings on a rope of bast, in a dark part of the old cave where no one went.

One night in the eighth year of their marriage Volund and Hervor lay in their bed together, speaking fondly as they did after lovemaking. The waning moon shone through the one window of their house and illuminated Hervor’s lovely face.

“There is no woman like you, my love.”

“And how would you know this, dear bear?” Often she called him this when they were alone.

He stroked her arm, which was almost as hard as his, but covered with silky skin; their strong, slender strength reminded him of a birch tree. He trailed a finger down to her tender breast.

“Oh, I do know a bit about women, mostly elf women I’ll admit. They are soft, shapeless. Not like you.”

“You know it would never do for a valkyrie to get soft, or lose her battle skill. To tell the truth, we have increased our training.”

“Why?” He tried to keep the alarm out of his voice.

Hervor propped herself up on her elbows next to him, so they were face to face. “Though we’ve not spoken of it, you know we have kept training all these years. But the world changes, and the times tend toward war. We have bought horses, Volund.”

“Horses? Bought them how?”

“We sold some plain cloth for profit, and now keep the horses by our training ground in Mirkwood.”

“Sold your cloth? Hervor, even I know that it is no ordinary cloth you weave. As a boy I heard the rumor that valkyries weave the fates of men. What you do with this cloth I have never asked, though I wondered, but I doubt you sell it for breeches and blouses.”

She laughed. “No, that is true. It was different cloth we sold, plain stuff. As for the valkyries’ weaving… Fate, Volund. That is one thing we learn from the runes. We weave the fates of men, and of kingdoms.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, but that is as much as I may tell. The gods have entrusted us with certain power and wisdom, but these gifts require of us certain secrecy. And even more, responsibility.” She looked at him gravely. “I wish it were in my hands alone to choose the fate of one kingdom.”

“You must tell me what you mean by that, at least.”

“Nidud, the king of Sweden. There are rumors that he is looking for new land, and is ready to invade other kingdoms to get it. The battle servants of the gods will be needed to fight such a terrible invader.”

-- 5 --

The next day Volund came from his cave to where Hervor sat weaving. She sat in the autumn sun, with a large piece of half-woven stuff on her loom. From a distance, he saw her pluck a long hair from her head and start working it into the piece.

“Hervor, my love!” he called. “I have brought you a gift.”

She looked up, a bit flustered by the interruption. A moment later her furrowed brow gave way to an expectant smile.

Nervously he pulled the gift from his leather apron and handed it to her. “For you, my wife.”

Hervor took the armband from him, and her face glowed with delight. “A ring! Oh my bear, it is beautiful!” She ran a finger on the ring’s markings. Suddenly her expression clouded. “But what is carved inside here?”

“A rune! You see, there are the two crossed lines – the gift rune. The rune of the open hand, of friendship and love. Is this not a suitable ring for a husband to give to his wife?” He regarded her hopefully.

“A suitable gift for most wives, to be sure. But a gift is also an obligation, Volund. This gift rune would bind me to you in a way I cannot accept.” She drew him to her and gently placed the ring back in his pocket. “If gifts were ever given freely, with no obligation, I should have liked to give your child. But that would be to make to you a promise I can’t keep.”

Volund hung his head.

She continued, “I think you have added an enchantment to this ring, one of the metal spells of the dark elves, to make the rune’s meaning binding on the giver and the one who receives it.”

“I don’t deny it. Yet you used some magic also, to bring me here. I suspect having me as your husband somehow increases your own powers. You have never told me why you did it.”

She pulled away from him. “There are many things I’ve never told you Volund, and many things I may not tell. I can tell you that one day a woman will one day wear this ring, and she will bear your child. Did you really think to fool me into taking such a ring?”

Volund twisted his hands together. “I had hoped you would take it willingly.”

“You are clever, but still you are not wise. Otherwise you would know that I cannot.”

-- 6 --

When Volund woke one morning a few months later, he was not entirely surprised to find his wife gone. He looked around, inside and outside their house, but he knew he would not find her. He looked in the chest where she kept the black swan skin. It was gone, but there was something else in its place. He pulled out a large blanket, made of dark and light wool woven together. Through one section of it, black hairs were woven into the pattern. But where that part of the pattern ended, it ended for good. He saw no shining black in the rest of the weaving.

He placed it on their bed. He would need something to keep him warm now, through the cold nights of the approaching winter.

Before long, Slagfid burst through the door. “Swan White is gone!”

“Yes, Hervor too. I suppose all three of them have gone to war.”

“War! What war?”

“I’ve been inquiring among the men who visit my shop. King Nidud of Sweden has invaded some lands to the east. There will be no peace for some time, I should think. I suppose Swan White took her swanskin?”

“I don’t know.” Slagfid ran back to his house to check. When he came back, Egil walked with him, and they were talking excitedly. All three women had indeed left with their valkyrie coverings. The chill of winter entered Volund’s bones. He went to the bed and held Hervor’s blanket in his lap.

“How long do you think this war will last?” Egil demanded.

“I don’t know. Long enough. I doubt it matters.”

Slagfid paced, angry. “Why must our women go to some war of this King Nidud?”

Volund grew impatient. “I tell you, it matters little to us. Who knows the ways of mankind? Men are greedy, always wanting more land, which their kings take by war. That is their way.” He had been almost shouting, but now he tried to control his voice. He fingered the dark strands in the blanket. “And it is the way of valkyries to follow war. We call them women and wives, but they are valkyries first, servants of the gods. Brothers, do not expect them back.”

Then he added, so quietly that his brothers may not have heard, “Perhaps we never should have ventured out of Swartalfheim.”

“If they will not come back, we must go look for them,” said Slagfid.

“No Slagfid, that is…”

Slagfid turned on him. “No! No, brother. I will not listen to you, and I will never follow your advice again. I shall go south seeking our wives.” He stalked out of the house, slamming the door.

“And I shall search to the east.” Egil started for the door, but before he left he turned and said, “Volund, I fear your luck has run out.”

Volund shouted at the closed door, “Maybe so! Maybe my luck has run out, and maybe half my soul is gone. But at least I’m not a fool!”

-- 7 --

Volund spent the rest of the day in his smithy. Egil and Slagfid spent the day packing food and supplies for their journey. Volund looked out briefly to watch them leave. They hurried off into the moonless night, as the year’s first snow began to fall. This was the fist time he’d seen snow fall by the lake.

He got used to a lonely life at the Wolfdales. Customers brought in enough meat, flour and ale to see him through the winter. He pulled the last gold from the mine and fashioned his last ring. Seven hundred he had now, hung from the bast line in the cave. He sat and counted them every evening, on the bearskin by the firepit. He made a fine sword with which to protect himself. Sometimes he asked himself why he stayed. Why not go back to Swartalfheim? Then he would look at the ring with the gift rune which Hervor had rejected, the rune of obligation. He still did not know all it meant, but if Hervor ever came back, he knew it would be to accept this ring.

He took one last hunting trip before the brunt of winter came, just before the shortest day of the year. When he came back in the evening, he decided not to go into the lonely house. Instead, he made a fire in the cave and cooked some bear steaks for his dinner. Weary from the day’s work, he ate heartily, and washed his meat down with plenty of ale. Then he went into the back room and brought out the rings.

After Volund counted them, he shook his head. Six hundred and ninety-nine. How could there be a ring missing? Even if someone had come to rob him, surely if they found the rings they would take all of them. At least they would take more than one. He rubbed his eyes and counted again, but still came up one short.

He felt a prickling on the back of his neck, a stirring within his body. One ring. Which one? He passed rings one by one through his hands, until he came to the place where that ring should be, the one with the gift rune. He broke into a smile of joy when he realized that the one missing was indeed Hervor’s ring.

Volund ran to the mouth of the cave. Snow was starting to fall. He looked through the drifting flakes toward the house he had shared with his wife. There was no light inside.

It must be her. She must have come back. He had interpreted the blanket as a sign she would never return. He had seen in all her words and gestures, from the time she rejected the ring, signs that he would not see her again in this life. But what did he know of signs and omens? What he knew was his heart, and it wanted to believe that Hervor had come back; no other possibility held any interest for him.

He cast one last dubious glance at the dark house, and sat down on the bearskin by the fire and waited. Hervor would see the fire and come to him. He added logs to make it brighter, and sat down with another cup of ale. Volund waited hopefully, dismissing all thoughts of signs and runes and omens. He waited so long that he fell asleep in the warm cave, and lived for a time in his dreams.

-- 8 --

Volund awoke in shackles. He jerked and twisted, looked around to see who was there. He saw no one. The cave was undisturbed and the rings were as he had left them.

“Who’s here?” he called into the emptiness. “What men have bound me?”

Two guards stepped into the cave, and a big, ruddy man came out from the back room. The man eyed Volund warily and knelt down on the bearskin, not too close.

“Tell me, Elf King, how did all this gold come into your possession, out here in the Wolfdales?”

“I found it.”

“You found it. I see. You must have great luck indeed. Maybe you found it just lying on the road – is that it?” He brought his face closer, so that the red hairs of his beard tickled Volund. “Maybe on the road to Sweden?”

“What?” Volund looked at the man, disbelieving. “Are you some thrall of the Swedish king?”

The man’s face twisted for a moment, then he laughed. “Not exactly, Elf. You should be honored, for you are captured by the king himself. Kind Nidud of Sweden, at your service.” He stood up and gave Volund a kick.

-- 9 --

At the Swedish capital a few days later, soldiers shackled Volund and marched him into the king’s chambers. Nidud’s family was there, seated on a raised place by a fire. Volund was dragged to a spot below them, next to a wooden chest. The queen, a short woman with hair pulled back tight, stood and took a few steps forward to inspect him.

She turned to her husband and said, "This is no friend of yours, this forest dweller.”

“Friend, no,” Nidud said. “But this ring makes him a useful ally.”

He pulled out the golden armband, the one with the rune of obligation. “With this ring I control him.”

Volund had known that the king must have the ring, but this was the first time he had seen it. He bared his teeth and snarled.

The king smiled, and handed the ring to his daughter. “Here, Bodvild. You shall keep this pretty ring safe. Wear it and take good care of it. There is a lot of power in that ring.”

Bodvild, barely grown into womanhood, squeezed the ring onto her plump arm just above the elbow. She cast an apprehensive look toward her father.

Nidud then picked up a sword that had been behind his chair. “And this, does it look familiar?” Nidud laughed as Volund recognized his own sword and snarled, louder than before.

The queen spoke again. “I dislike the way he shows his teeth before the king. He has the eyes of a venomous snake.”

Nidud shrugged.

“I tell you, Nidud, for the safety of all of us, you must protect yourself from this vicious man!” She grasped the king’s arms. “Have him put away somewhere, on an island perhaps. Then have your men cut his hamstrings. That way you’ll have him where you want him, but where he can do us no harm.”

The king considered this. He looked from the queen to the elf, and when he spoke he pulled himself taller to make his proclamation. “This is what we will do. Volund, Smith, King of Elves, shall be our thrall. He shall work the smithy on our isle called Saeverstadt, close enough for us to keep him under our control, but far enough away to avoid offending our queen. There he shall remain, at our convenience, until his death. Our further orders are that his hamstrings shall be severed.”

Volund received this stoically. But when Nidud descended to the chest next to him and flung it open, he gasped. His other rings were stacked neatly inside.

“Yes,” Nidud said, now speaking only to his captive. “I took them all. At the smithy on Saeverstadt they will be as safe as anywhere else. I doubt anyone will come bothering you while you are under my care. And I know that so long as I have the one ring, you cannot harm me.”

Volund reached his shackled hands over and furiously slammed the chest shut.

-- 10 --

Midwinter found Volund finishing a second set of runestones. He inlayed the gray stones with various metals from the king’s stores, so that they were like his own darker set. The king was keeping him busy forging and repairing weaponry, and he’d seen to his own needs as well, making one chair with wheels and another with runners. He seldom slept. On the long winter nights he kept working, and remembering things that had happened to him since he entered the realm of men, and considering the runes.

He was expecting Nidud tonight. The king came alone to visit once a week, bringing food, supplies and work. As Volund gave the stones a final polish, Nidud strode through the door.

“Good day, elf king.”

Volund did not look up from his work. “Is there not some war for you to fight?”

“In midwinter? No, all my men are home until spring. But with the use of your services, I should be well prepared for war when the time comes.”

“The weather is rough. Aren’t you afraid to sail out here alone?”

Nidud, relishing Volund’s bad temper, roared with laughter. “I am the king. I suppose I can do as I like. The water here is deep and some passage stays open all winter. I’d be a fool to let you starve, or slack off. Have you finished the new swords?”

Volund jerked his head toward the corner, where thirteen perfect swords lay in an untidy heap. The king examined them. “Beautiful.”

“I have made you a gift,” said Volund.

“A gift? What kind of gift?”

“Runestones.”

“I don’t expect any presents from you, elf.”

“Come, Nidud, what do you have to fear from me? You know I cannot harm you so long as you hold me in obligation through the ring your daughter wears. Even though I fashioned it to be given, not taken by force, still I am bound by its power. Look.”

The king examined the runestones. “What are you up to?”

“I am bored and lonely on this island, king. Surely you can find time to play a game with your thrall when you visit?”

“What game?”

Volund showed him the game which Hervor had called Rune Chess. The king was enthralled by it, though he lost their first game.

Thereafter they finished each of their visits with a game or two of Rune Chess. They would drink and talk as they played, and Volund would give the king gifts to take back to his family. Nidud learned only the simplest meanings of the runes; Volund did not guide him to any deeper meaning. After the first couple weeks, Volund let the king win most of the time. Then when he was alone he sat up late into the night considering what the runes told him.

-- 11 --

In spring, when the king was busy preparing to go to war, Nidud’s sons showed up on the island. Volund came to the door of the smithy to see who had landed in the middle of the day. The boys raced each other, laughing, to the door of the smithy. They were younger than their sister, and seated in his chair Volund was about their height.

“Welcome, sons of King Nidud. How came you here?”

“We sailed on Father’s boat!” said the younger of the two.

“But your father told me he keeps the boat well hidden.”

“Remember the arrowheads you gave us?” said the elder. “Father told us you fixed them so they will always find what they seek. And they do find game, but Father doesn’t know they can find other things, too. We use them all the time! This time we used them to find his boat, while he’s busy with the armies.”

“We want to see the treasure!” added the younger.

Volund smiled. “Clever boys! You are right, the finding rune works for other things as well as game. It knows what you seek.”

“Yes. May we see the treasure now?”

Volund showed them the chest, and opened it with a flourish. The boys fell on their knees, exclaiming, and examined the golden armbands.

“I overheard father say he would give these to his men, when they win their battles,” said the older boy.

“Yes, I suspected Nidud might have some such plan.”

“We wish we could have rings too.”

Volund closed the chest and wheeled to face the boys. He still smiled. “Oh, I doubt your father will miss two rings from so many. Do you really like them?”

Both boys nodded eagerly.

“Ah, the two of you remind me of my own brothers. Very well then. You young princes come back in a couple days. I must have a little time to polish the rings, you know. At that time, I will give you each a gift fitting for King Nidud’s sons.”

The boys were glad to agree. Volund smiled and waved as they ran back to their father’s boat.

Then he busied himself making a new sword, this one neither gleaming nor beautiful. It was simply sharp.

-- 12 --

Two days later the boys burst back into the smithy, hardly able to contain their anticipation.

“Uncle Volund! I want to look at all the golden armbands!” exclaimed the younger boy.

“Is it true what I heard, that every one bears a magic rune?” asked the elder.

Volund smiled and nodded. “Some call this work magic. Take the key and have a look for yourselves.”

The boys rushed over to open the chest. There they knelt down and pulled rings out one by one, examining their markings.

Volund wheeled over to a dark corner, never taking his eyes off the boys. He pulled the plain sword out of its hiding place behind his sled chair. Slowly he wheeled up behind the king’s sons, pulled the sword back, and with one stroke took off both their heads.

He worked the rest of the day and all through the night. A growing wind kept the air clear, so that the almost full moon shone in the window. He buried the bodies under his forge, and pushed the boat out to drift toward the mainland. Then the smith assembled his finest stores of metal and his best tools.

He made two drinking cups by covering the boys’ skulls with silver. “For the king, two precious vessels from which to drink his grief. By these I remember my brothers, no doubt dead by now at the hands of men.”

A dark elf spell fashioned the eyes of the boys into precious stones, which he set in gold to make an intricate brooch. “A gift for the queen, cruel wife of Nidud. By this I remember my beloved. Queen, you would protect your husband from me, as I tried to protect my wife from his bloody wars. We were both fools.”

Last he made some of the boys’ teeth into another brooch. “Last a gift for Blodvid. By this I recall my freedom. Of all the things Nidud has stolen from me, this I would have back. But so long as the king’s daughter holds the ring safe, what can I do?”

Suddenly the door swung open. The wind, Volund thought at first. But then he saw a bear in the doorway, the moon shining over its left shoulder. He was startled, but for some reason just beyond his understanding the bear’s presence gave him a surge of hope. The animal did not come in, but stood on its hind legs just outside the door. Volund picked up a couple roast hens he had cooked the day before. He wheeled over and offered them to the bear, who ate them immediately.

“My friend, I’ll wager you have just come out of hibernation, on this island or nearby. I will be glad to give you all the food in this place. I do not know if you are bear only, or some messenger of the gods. If you have any such power, tell them this: that Volund the Smith would be happy enough to leave behind everything he has ever gained in the world of men, if he might only have his freedom.”

The bear regarded him. Volund, certain of his safety, turned his back on the animal to go find the rest of the promised food.

The next night, Nidud made his weekly visit. He accepted the gifts, but was distracted and hurried through their visit. Volund beat him easily in their first game of Rune Chess, but made sure to let the king win the second. After the king left, Volund sought understanding from the runes. Even though they never told exactly what would happen, he was sure they gave him a clear indication of the direction his fortune would take. He smiled broadly, unable to believe the luck he saw in them on this night.

--13 –

The next evening a new visitor came to the island. Volund, waiting at the little dock, watched her rowing unsteadily under the full moon. When Blodvid docked, he secured the boat and held out his hand to her. She wobbled and almost went into the water as he helped her up from the rocking boat. She had been crying, he noticed.

“Good day to you, Nidud’s daughter. I am pleased to welcome you. Your beauty and grace have only blossomed since I saw you last. To what do I owe my good fortune, that you should visit your Uncle Volund?”

“Oh, Volund! I have come to beg your help! This ring, I…” She giggled a little through her tears and pulled the ring of obligation from her cloak. “I sat on it. Look, it’s squashed. Father would be furious if he found out! I was hoping you could fix it.”

“Fix it? Certainly! Does your father know you are here?”

“Oh, no!” Blodvid looked horrified, then she giggled again, touching her lips with two fingers. “I would never, ever tell him. Honestly, he would kill me for being so careless! But my brothers have wandered off somewhere and he is too worried about them to notice me, so I thought I would come and beg your help, dear smith.”

They smiled at each other. “Don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret. Come up to the smithy, and I will give you ale to drink while you wait. I don’t want you to grow impatient. You must give me plenty of time, but I will make the ring like new again.”

He held out his hand, and she gave him the ring.

--14 –

Volund was biding his time in Nidud’s hall. He watched the scene below him. Nidud tossed and turned in his bed, but kept his face under the covers, never looking up.

The queen entered and put a gentle hand on his cheek, and he turned to face her. “Oh my dear husband, can’t you sleep?”

The king lay on his back with his hands over his eyes for a long time, then looked at the queen. “No, I can barely sleep at all, and when I do I have evil dreams. Since our sons have been missing… Missing. I fear them dead. My boat, the boat I take out to visit the smith, it… wasn’t where I left it. It looked as if it had drifted in on the tide, and I fear…”

He held his wife's hands and pulled her close. Though he looked at her tenderly, his voice had an edge. “My mind has gone numb, but what I have come to think is this, that I despair of your cold counsel to me regarding the smith. I fear it has all come to no good, that though he has pretended to be our friend, he has turned…”

Then he saw Volund. His mouth remained open as he stared toward the high ceiling of the bedchamber. The queen turned to look, and gasped.

Nidud called, “Elf King, what can you tell me about my sons?”

Volund floated out from the shadow of the roof beam where he had been partially hidden, and drifted closer to the bed. He stayed high in the air, but made sure to position himself so that Nidud could see the armband.

He called down in a clear, cold voice. “First you must promise me, swearing by your crown and all your armies, not to harm my son or the woman who will bear him.”

“I will promise you that. Truly, I fear to cross you, dark elf.”

“That is good, because the woman I speak of is well known to you. But you want to know what happened to your sons, and I shall tell you.” He did, in detail. “Now would you like to know what has happened to your daughter?”

“My… daughter?”

“Yes, it is she I spoke of who will bear my child. She was not hard to seduce. A few kind words, and more ale than her silly head could manage. I took her even though she was repulsive to me, with her soft body and fleshy, stupid face. She reminded me of the queen.”

“Did she bring you here?”

Volund laughed. “Oh no, she ran off when I started flying around over the bed, and took the boat back alone. Do you like my new skill, Nidud? The gift of some god, one that must hate you. I flew here, and soon will fly far away.”

“How could anyone reach you? Even with a bow, my men cannot stop you.”

“You always did catch on quickly! Only one thing left for me to tell you, then.” He lowered himself into the air just out of the king’s reach, and spoke in a soft, earnest voice. “Having taken the ring from me once, although it was by force, the magic works as well as if you accepted it as a gift. The obligation of that works against you now, as surely as it worked against me before. Treat Blodvid well, and take care of my son. I shall know how to find him when the time is right. But you shall not see me again.”

He drifted toward the window, but turned before flying to Swartalfheim. “That is what you forgot to do, Nidud, that I have done. While you had the ring I could not harm you, but you did not think in any way to extend its protection to your family. I have gazed at the runes long and learned a little wisdom. You are clever, but no man with a twisted heart can be wise.”


Adapted from The Lay of Volund, from the Elder Edda, translated by Patricia Terry in Poems of the Vikings.

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