The Warrior and the Halfenwraith

“But I am only half mortal, Thorgi,” Swanhild finally said, her words barely above a whisper. “My father, though a powerful prince, was still just a man. But my mother Brunhild was something else altogether — as was my grandmother, the sorceress Skaig Coldheart! As such, my immortal half cries out for the kind of everlasting love that your tales speak of!”
“And you hope to find this ‘lasting love’ in the arms of the hero Leif the Lucky?” I asked pointedly, the skepticism clear in my voice.
Her answer was just a curt, “I do.”
“Then I wish you luck and good fortune, lady — though I still am at a loss as to why you need me.”
Her dark eyes flashed. “You know Leif Erickson. You have spoken with him many times; feasted with him in his hall in Vineland, gotten drunk with him! You know what kind of a man he is.” She paused and leaned closer. “I would hear from your own lips if he truly is the hero as your tale describes him — or is that all smoke on the wind as well?!”
“I have met with him as you say, lady, but that was years ago when I wore a younger man’s clothes. And he was a great hero then, just as my tale describes him. Yet, for all his bravery, like your own father, he was still just a man, with all the faults and weaknesses that we all carry.”
“Your tale mentions no weaknesses,” she countered. “A quick temper, yes. He is ambitious and a risk-taker, proud of his reputation, but what great warrior is not?!”
Seeing that her course was set, I tried one last time to change her mind. “For all we know, my lady, he may be dead by now, for life is very dangerous in the New World — and sadly, heroes do tend to die young.”
The thought also struck me that Leif may already be married, for it had indeed been a long time since I last saw him and by now he could easily be the father of a half dozen children with twins on the way! But I wisely decided not mention that possibility to the beautiful ‘Halfenwraith’ standing before me.
Yet as though reading my mind, her next question came close to that very mark! “How long has it been, Thorgi, since you last saw him?”
I cast my mind back over the gulf of Time. “Seven or eight years. Perhaps nine. Sadly they all swirl together for the old.”
She barked out a laugh at that. “Compared to my age, Thorgi, you are but a beardless boy, untested by either warm women, hard men or the cold world! But know this, master scald — I would gladly give up all my powers and longevity to live a life such as I seek!”
She then turned and headed for the door, her raven feathered cape swirling about her. “Come along then, Thorgi,” she said, moving her fingers in a ‘break-spell’ motion that set the rest of the people in the hall moving again. They all went about their business as though nothing strange had happened at all.
“You mean, right now, my lady? We are leaving for Vinland right now?!”
“Of course, Thorgi. And do hurry, for, as you, Time is passing — even for someone like me.”
I grabbed my cloak, hat and staff and hobbled after the rapidly departing woman who was so much more than a simple shield maiden. The people in the crowded hall automatically stepped aside as she walked by them.
They saw her not, but still felt all the better for her passing.