Late afternoon shadows stretched across the landscape as the small group made their way along the riverbank. Four days had passed since their fireside conversations, days filled with the rhythmic sound of axes biting into wood, the splash of logs hitting the water, and the rustle of leaves as herbs were gathered and sorted.

  As they rounded a bend in the river, Leif and Freya's cottage came into view. A sizable pile of logs along the creek bank stood testament to their labor, neatly stacked by Leif's diligent efforts.

  Erik and Astrid walked ahead, their conversation animated and light-hearted.

  "You know," Astrid said, a wistful smile playing on her lips, "I miss Mother's sweetberry bread. But I certainly don't miss her constant lessons on 'proper Viking wife-like behavior'."

  Her voice softened, almost to a whisper. "I just want to be accepted for who I am."

  Erik nodded, his expression warm. He admired Astrid's spirit and hoped she would never change, appreciating her exactly as she was, flaws and all.

  "So do I," he said softly, then cleared his throat. "And, well... I miss hunting with Sigurd and Harald. The competitions we'd have, trying to outdo each other..."

  Astrid's eyes softened with understanding. "Your brothers. Of course you'd miss them."

  After a moment, her face brightened again. "Oh! Do you know what else I miss? Gudrun's goat cheese and fresh bread. Nobody could make cheese like her."

  "That's true," Erik agreed, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Remember how she guarded her cheese-making secrets? As if rival cheese-makers of Skogstrand were constantly trying to steal them."

  Their laughter rang out, echoing off the trees. Behind them, Brandr and Sigrida walked side by side, engrossed in their own quiet conversation.

  "...and the bees actually remember where the flowers are," Sigrida was saying, her voice filled with wonder. "They can even communicate the location to other bees in the hive through their dances. It's incredible how such tiny creatures can work together to navigate through the meadows."

  Brandr listened intently, a smile playing on his lips. "That is remarkable," he said. "You know, it reminds me of how we navigate at sea. When there's no land in sight, we use the stars as our guide. It’s knowledge that is passed on generation to generation."

  Sigrida's eyes widened with interest. "Really?" She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. "There are so many stars, though. How can you make sense of them?"

  "Well," Brandr began, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm, "constellations stay the same, but their positions shift with the time of day, season, and where we are. By looking at them, we can tell our location and direction."

  "And you know all this?” Sigrida said, astounded by his memory. "Do you think... could you teach me someday?"

  Brandr's smile widened, pleased by her enthusiasm. "I'd be happy to. Maybe we could —"

  "Sigrida!" Astrid's voice suddenly called out, interrupting their conversation. "Come help me with this log!"

  Sigrida glanced at Brandr apologetically before hurrying over to where Astrid stood by the creek. A large log had become stuck, obstructing the flow of smaller pieces. Together, the girls used long poles to dislodge it, laughing as they worked in tandem to guide it downstream.

  Brandr watched them with a smile, enjoying the sight of their teamwork and camaraderie. Meanwhile, Rinda, seeing her home, began to pick up her pace, pulling the herb-laden cart along without any prompting. The old mare's eagerness to return added a touch of humor to their journey's end.

  As they rounded the final bend, Leif and Freya's cottage came into full view. The elderly couple emerged from their home, waving in greeting as they approached.

  Leif's eyes widened at the sight of the loaded cart and the young men's muscled arms. "By Odin's beard," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "look at all those logs! You boys have outdone yourselves."

  Freya, meanwhile, scanned the group with a critical eye. "Goodness me," she tutted, "you've all grown far too thin. Come inside, the lot of you. I'll not have you wasting away on my watch."

  Brandr's face lit up at the mention of food. "Excellent!" he said. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse!"

  Suddenly, Rinda snorted loudly, swishing her tail and nipping gently at Brandr's sleeve.

  "Oh!" Brandr said, jumping slightly. "Not you, Rinda! I didn't mean you!" He patted her neck apologetically as the others burst into laughter.

  Astrid and Sigrida moved to unhitch Rinda from the cart. "You've been such a good girl," Astrid cooed, stroking the mare's neck. "I think I saw some carrots in the garden. How does that sound?"

  Rinda's ears perked up, her pace quickening as they led her towards the small lean-to beside the cottage, where the animals were kept.

  Meanwhile, Erik and Brandr began moving the logs closer to the cottage, their muscles straining as they added to the already impressive woodpile. The rhythmic thud of wood on wood filled the air, punctuated by Leif's exclamations of gratitude.

  Freya bustled back towards the cottage, muttering about too-thin youngsters, stews and fresh bread. Soon, the mouthwatering aroma of cooking wafted out, promising a hearty meal to come.

  The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing, as the group settled into the comfortable routine of end-day chores, their spirits high despite their weariness.

  The warm glow of the central hearth filled Leif and Freya's cottage, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Around the table sat the four young adventurers, their faces flushed with contentment after their first hot meal in days.

  Freya bustled about, placing a platter of honey cakes on the table. "Here, have some more," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You've all worked so hard, you need to regain your strength. I’ve made them special this time, with herbs, dried fruit and hazelnuts."

  Astrid reached eagerly for a cake, biting into the sweet treat. "Mmm," she mumbled appreciatively, "these are delicious, Freya."

  Leif nodded in agreement, raising his cup of sweet mead. "Indeed, and well-deserved. Thanks to your efforts, I'll have warmth all winter." He rubbed his injured leg absently. "The cold won't trouble these old bones nearly as much now."

  Freya settled into her chair, her face serious. "And the herbs you've gathered... you can't imagine what a difference they'll make. I haven't been able to venture as far lately, and I worried about depleting the nearby patches."

  Sigrida turned to Brandr and Erik, telling them, "If you use too much from one area, they might not grow back next year," she explained, a hint of pride in her voice at sharing this knowledge. "That's why we gathered from different spots each day and always leave plants behind."

  "Exactly," Freya beamed. "Now, I'll have enough to make salves for Leif throughout the winter." She paused, her expression softening. "You've all done so much to help us. Leif and I, we can't express how grateful we are. I want you to go home with something special, a token of our appreciation."

  With a mysterious smile playing on her lips, she stood. "Girls, I have just the right gift for you. Wait here." She disappeared into the back of the cottage, the sound of rummaging filling the air.

  Moments later, she emerged, her arms laden with gleaming metal and leather. "These," she said, laying out two sets of chainmail and helmets on the table, "are from my days as a shieldmaiden. I've been saving them for the right warriors."

  She then brought out leather brynjur to wear beneath the mail, sturdy leather boots, thick leather belts with iron buckles, and padded gambesons. Last came the shields - round wooden boards rimmed with iron, their faces scarred from past battles.

  Astrid and Sigrida gasped in unison. The armor was beautifully crafted, clearly designed to fit a woman's form. As they ran their hands over the intricate designs, Freya produced two golden arm bands.

  "And these," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "are a symbol of our bond." She slipped one onto Astrid's arm, then Sigrida's. "They represent the loyalty we share, connecting us in a way that transcends time and distance."

  Freya then reached behind her, unveiling two beautifully crafted swords, their hilts adorned with intricate decoration. "And what's a shieldmaiden without her weapon?" she said with a wink.

  Astrid's eyes widened. "Freya, these are exquisite. But... can you really part with them? Surely you still need them?"

  With a dismissive wave, she tutted, shaking her head. "Nonsense, child. Honningdal is well-guarded. Those jagged rocks at the inlet keep most trouble at bay."

  Leif chuckled, adding, "The only raiders we need to worry about here are honey-raiders! Pirates with a sweet tooth!" He grinned at his own jest.

  The girls stood speechless, overwhelmed by the significance of the gifts. Even Brandr and Erik exchanged impressed glances, recognizing the value of what Freya had bestowed.

  Freya watched as Astrid and Sigrida marveled at the gifts, their eyes wide with wonder. Pride swelled in her chest, tempered by a bittersweet ache for days long past. These weapons and armor had been more than mere objects to her; they were companions through countless battles. Now, seeing the reverence with which the girls handled them, Freya knew she had made the right choice. The legacy of her shieldmaiden days would live on through these brave young women.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Her eyes twinkled as she continued, "I'd be honored to continue your training while you're here. There's much more I can teach you about being true shieldmaidens."

  Astrid found her voice first. "Freya, we... we don't know what to say. This is incredible."

  Sigrida sat frozen, her fingers hovering over the gleaming sword. Rarely in her life had she received gifts, let alone one of such magnificence. The weight of Freya's generosity, the implied trust in her abilities, was almost too much to bear. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. "Thank you," she managed, the simple phrase carrying years of longing and newfound belonging.

  As Astrid and Sigrida admired their new armor and arm bands, Leif cleared his throat softly. "Well now," he said, his eyes twinkling, "I believe it's my turn to contribute something."

  He rose slowly from his chair and made his way to a small, ornate trunk in the corner. With careful movements, he extracted what appeared to be a mix of rolled parchment sheets and thin wooden tablets. As he laid them on the table, the group leaned in, their eyes widening in disbelief.

  "Are those... maps?" Erik asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Brandr reached out, his hand hovering over the intricate etchings on the wooden tablets. "I've never seen anything like this," he said, awestruck.

  Astrid and Sigrida were drawn to the parchment sheets, their fingers gently tracing the smooth surface. "It's so soft," Sigrida marveled, "and the lines are so fine and clear."

  Leif chuckled softly, pleased by their reactions. "Indeed they are. I learned to use parchment during my travels. It allows for finer detail, though it's less common in our parts."

  He carefully spread the maps across the table, his weathered hands moving with surprising dexterity. "These maps show lands far beyond our fjords," he continued, his tone filled with grandfatherly pride. "Each one holds a story, a journey."

  As he spoke, Leif's eyes met Freya's, and they shared a fond smile. Together, they had traveled every inch of these maps, each line and landmark evoking memories of shared adventures and quiet moments alike. The silent exchange spoke volumes of their life together, rich with experiences that had shaped them both.

  The girls, still wearing their new arm bands, crowded around, captivated by the unfamiliar coastlines and landmarks etched into the wooden tablets and drawn on the parchment.

  "Now, now," Leif said with a soft laugh, "don't be shy. Take a closer look. These old eyes of mine don't need them anymore, but yours might find great use for them in the adventures that lie ahead."

  He placed a hand on Erik's shoulder, then Brandr's. "And if you'd like, I'd be more than happy to pass on what I know. It's a rare skill, mapmaking, but a valuable one. I can teach you both methods - our traditional wooden tablets and the parchment technique I learned abroad."

  The young men nodded eagerly, their faces alight with excitement and gratitude. As they examined the maps, pointing out unfamiliar details and discussing far-off lands, Leif sat back in his chair, a contented smile on his face. There was something deeply satisfying about passing on knowledge to the next generation, just as it had once been passed to him.

  "Now, how about a story to end the night?" Leif asked, his eyes twinkling in the firelight.

  The four friends shifted closer, settling into comfortable positions. Erik and Brandr leaned back against the wall while Astrid and Sigrida sat forward eagerly, all eyes fixed on Leif as his fingers moved across the strings.

  Leif's melodious voice filled the room, weaving the tale of Sigrdrifa and the brave warrior. The fire crackled and popped, casting dancing shadows that seemed to illustrate the story on the cottage walls. The ancient words carried them through tales of valor, magic, and destiny, teaching them of their heritage even as they marveled at their gifts.

  "And so," Leif concluded, his voice rich and resonant, "Sigrdrifa bestowed upon the warrior knowledge and magic to shape his destiny."

  A reverent hush fell over the room as the last words faded. Astrid clasped her hands together in delight while Sigrida's eyes shone with quiet wonder. Erik and Brandr exchanged glances, both moved by the ancient tale that seemed to speak directly to their own dreams of destiny.

  "That was beautiful," Sigrida murmured, her voice soft but clear in the stillness.

  The fire sent a shower of sparks up the chimney, a fitting end to this night of gifts and stories.

  Weeks had passed since the four companions had arrived at Honningdal, and each day showed in their growing skill. As Astrid and Sigrida crested the hill, the midsummer sun glinted off their arm rings. The meadow, once full of spring blossoms, now blazed with tall grasses and vibrant wildflowers in full bloom. They made their way towards the cottage, their movements fluid and sure despite the morning's rigorous training with Freya.

  "Oh, Astrid," Sigrida began, a hint of excitement in her voice, "did you hear what Freya said about your swordwork? She thinks you're a natural talent."

  Astrid's cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "She's too kind. But what about you? I overheard her telling Leif that your archery skills are progressing faster than she's ever seen."

  They passed the newly mended fence, its fresh wood a stark contrast to the weathered posts. The garden beyond bloomed with vigor, rows of vegetables standing tall and healthy. As they neared the cottage, the scent of fresh pine mingled with the earthy aroma of drying herbs.

  Astrid paused, peering through a window. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, their leaves gently swaying in the breeze that whispered through the newly patched walls. "Look at all those herbs," she said. "Freya will have enough to last her years."

  Sigrida nodded, her eyes tracing the neat stack of firewood piled high against the side of the cottage. "And Leif won't have to worry about the cold for a long while."

  Suddenly, Sigrida paused, turning to face Astrid. "I wish we could stay here forever," she said softly, her voice tinged with longing.

  Astrid smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. "I know what you mean," she replied, as she breathed in the fresh summer air.

  Sigrida fell into quiet contemplation as they resumed walking. She wondered if this was what having a family felt like. To be loved and accepted, not for her service, but for who she truly was. They continued on, Astrid practically bouncing with optimism, while Sigrida remained lost in her thoughtful wonderment.

  Rounding the corner, they spotted Erik and Brandr reclining in the grass, intently studying wooden tablets laid out before them. The young men's brows were furrowed in concentration, their earlier exertions evident in their still-damp shirts. Upon closer inspection, the girls could see that the tablets bore the intricate markings of freshly made maps.

  Erik's map depicted the familiar coastline of Skogstrand, every curve and inlet rendered with meticulous care. Sigrida's eyes were drawn to Brandr's work, recognizing the port town of Skipavik, but the rest of the coastline was unfamiliar to her.

  While Brandr's cartography showed promise and his lines bold and mostly accurate, it was Erik's map that truly caught the eye. Its delicate details and precise renderings were a testament to his steady hand and patient nature. The artistry in his work was unmistakable, each promontory and bay captured with remarkable fidelity, bringing their homeland to life on the wooden surface.

  Astrid plopped down with a dramatic "whump" next to Erik, rolling onto her stomach to examine his map more closely. Sigrida, by contrast, settled herself carefully beside Brandr, her eyes drawn to his cartography.

  "Is that Fjell?rn, Brandr?" she asked, her finger hovering over what appeared to be a fortress and port south of Skipavik.

  Brandr's chest swelled with pride, not for his mapmaking skills, which he knew paled in comparison to Erik's, but for his homeland. "Indeed it is," he said, his voice warm with affection. He leaned in, pointing out various features. "See here? This is our main port, where my family's ships dock. And over here," his finger traced a line inland, "is the fortress where my father presides over Veldefold."

  As Brandr continued his animated description, Sigrida found herself drawn into the details of this unfamiliar land, her curiosity piqued by each new revelation. Meanwhile, Astrid peppered Erik with questions about his intricate depiction of Skogstrand, her appreciation for his skill evident in her voice.

  Sigrida's gaze drifted to Erik's map. "Erik, this is remarkable," she said, admiration in her voice. "You have a real talent for this."

  Astrid beamed at the praise for Erik, her pride evident. "Doesn't he? Look at how he's captured the curve of the fjord."

  Erik's cheeks colored slightly at the attention. "It still needs work," he murmured, though he smiled humbly at their comments. "The scale isn't quite right near the northern hills."

  Brandr chuckled, shaking his head. "No need for false modesty, my friend. Your map puts mine to shame." He held up his own work, striking an exaggerated pose of despair. "I fear my poor Veldefold looks more like a child's scribbling than a proper map."

  Sigrida laughed, the sound light and easy. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad," she teased, nudging his shoulder playfully. "I can clearly see it's a... land mass of some sort."

  The group dissolved into laughter, the comfortable banter a testament to the bonds they'd formed. As their mirth subsided, they fell into a companionable silence, the afternoon sun warm on their backs as they continued to pore over the maps, each lost in thoughts of lands both familiar and unknown.

  Astrid's fingers lingered over the representation of Skogstrand, a wistful smile playing on her lips. Erik's gaze softened as he looked at the fjord where he'd spent countless hours fishing with his brothers.

  Brandr's chest swelled with a mix of pride and longing as he regarded the outline of Fjell?rn, memories of his father's great hall flickering through his mind. Even Sigrida, despite her complicated past, found herself drawn to the familiar contours of Skogstrand, a place that, for better or worse, had shaped her.

  Suddenly, Sigrida’s gaze shifted, catching movement in the distance. "Look," she said, breaking the contemplative silence, "there's Leif and Freya heading this way."

  The spell of nostalgia broken, Erik and Brandr stretched, their muscles relaxed from the afternoon's leisure.

  "We should see if they need any help," Erik suggested, brushing grass from his trousers as he stood.

  Brandr nodded in agreement, rising to his feet. "There might be a few more chores we can tackle before the day's end."

  As the elderly couple approached, the four friends moved to greet them, their earlier relaxation giving way to curiosity about Leif's focused expression.

  When Leif was within earshot, he called out, his voice carrying on the breeze. "Trader ships have been spotted on the horizon," he announced, his tone a mix of excitement and something else - perhaps a hint of sadness. "They should arrive by evening. They'll likely be leaving tomorrow or the day after. If you wish, they can take you back to Skipavik."

  The news settled over the group like a heavy fog. Astrid's smile faltered only briefly before returning, albeit with less brightness. Her eyes darted between her friends and the cottage, as if trying to memorize every detail. "Well," she said, her voice a touch too cheerful, "I suppose it's time for our next adventure, isn't it?"

  Beside her, Sigrida went rigid, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her tunic. Her mouth tightened into a thin line, eyes cast downward, a shadow of sadness passing over her features.

  "Hey," Astrid said softly, looping an arm through her friend's. "We can always come back and visit. And just think of all the new places we'll see!" Her words were meant to reassure, to remind Sigrida of her newfound freedom without explicitly mentioning her past.

  Recognition flickered in Sigrida's eyes. She took a deep breath, her posture relaxing slightly. "You're right, Astrid," she said, her voice steadier. "We can put Erik and Brandr's maps to good use." She turned to Brandr, seeking his support.

  Erik stood frozen, his gaze fixed on some distant point. The impossibility of taking Astrid back to marry Einar warred with the knowledge that their peaceful time in Honningdal was ending. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side, jaw working silently.

  Brandr watched his friend's distress, stepping forward to clasp Erik's shoulder. His own easy manner had faded, replaced by quiet concern. "Sigrida’s right. There's a whole world out there waiting," he said quietly, though his eyes held a hint of sadness.

  "Erik?" Astrid's voice cut through the silence. "This is only just the beginning for all of us, isn't it?"

  Erik blinked, focusing on her hopeful face. "Yes," he managed. "The first of many steps."

  "Let's make this last day special!" Astrid declared, taking Erik's hand. "Sigrida and I can help prepare dinner with the herbs we've gathered."

  Sigrida nodded, her earlier melancholy lifting slightly as she turned to Freya. "Maybe you could teach us one last recipe?"

  Freya's face softened with affection. "Of course, dears. I'd be delighted." She glanced at Leif, a knowing look passing between them. They both understood the young ones' reluctance to leave, recognizing the safety and acceptance Honningdal had come to represent.

  Astrid grabbed Erik's hand, pulling him from his reverie. "Come on, let's make these last moments count."

  Sigrida caught Brandr's eye, her silent invitation clear. He nodded, falling into step beside her as they followed the others.

  Their lively chatter filled the air as they approached the cottage, temporarily drowning out the bittersweet thoughts of departure. For now, they focused on savoring every remaining minute in their idyllic sanctuary.

  Have you figured out which ATU motif I use for each of the four main characters?