Heimdall’s 8 Section 7
Letter ‑ Z/X
Name ‑ EOLH
Meaning ‑ AN ELK
Planetary Rulership ‑ JUPITER AND VENUS (PISCES)
Gemstone ‑ AMETHYST
Flower ‑ RUSH
Number ‑ 4
Arthian ‑ GALAHAD
WEATHER ‑ WET LEDDEN SKIES
Good fortune, Sacrifice, Protection, GAIN,
Protection against the evil thoughts and activities of others. Promotes all relationships founded on friendship rather than physical attraction. Helpful for all pursuits in which you are required to renounce one opportunity to take up another, especially in academic and artistic areas.
Good fortune coming to the querent, possibly a love relationship based on friendship and trust. Healthy sacrifice and protection from adversity. Gain through sacrifice good friends and subconscious fears impinging on consciousness.
Eolh reversed indicates vulnerability and that others are quite willing to use the querent to his detriment to obtain their own ends. Don’t rush into any new relationships without first examining the other person’s character. Avoid the rose-coloured glasses effect and remember you must work from what you get.
“I just wish I could do something. I’ve made a sacrifice to Freya, but it is a bit of an ask.” Jokull spoke softly as they walked through the woods.
“I’m sorry Edda is feeling like that, but well. She was Geldnir. I mean, some things can’t be changed.” Fjorn shifted uncomfortably. In general, he accepted his friends, and it was easy to ignore that Edda had spent the first eighteen years of her life as Geldnir, but this conversation was making that impossible.
“And Brina won’t let us forget it. We’re thinking of moving to the city to get away from her.”
“I’d miss you, my friend. You’re not the only one with a problem mother in law. Way Loftveig goes on you’d think I was a popper and her daughter was living in a ditch. I do pretty well for myself, but to hear her, I’m a lazy good for nothing because I’m not at the forge day and night. No use in making a contract if no one wants to buy it, but she just keeps on.” Fjorn sighed then paused in thought before continuing. “Maybe you should take on an apprentice. Edda could play mother to the lad. That might help.”
“It probably will. Forni, Helga’s and Bayelgr’s boy, has shown a knack for hides. But it won’t take the place of a babe. I–.
Fjorn held up his hand for silence and slipped his bow from his shoulder. Jokull mirrored his actions a moment later. A clearing opened in front of them and in its centre stood a magnificent elk.
The men knocked their arrows, then the Elk turned and looked at them. The animal stood unafraid.
“I. I don’t want to shoot.” Jokull lowered his bow.
“Neither do I. It’s just too grand,” agreed Fjorn. “We’ll sacrifice this kill so he can go on to rut some does. All the better for next year’s hunting. Gods, he’s a big one.”
The Elk considered the hunters then tossed its head as if inviting them to follow.
“Did you see that,” asked Jokull.
“Can’t be. But let’s track it. Beats going home and listing to Loftveig go on.”
The two men followed the Elk along a well-worn trail through the forest. After a time, the elk stopped and dipped its head towards a towering birch tree, then bounded away into the woods.
“What the?” The hunters looked at each other, then, with matching shrugs, proceeded to the birch. A blanket was rolled up and laid on the ground at the tree’s roots. As they drew close, it moved.
Stepping up, Jokull pulled back the blanket.
“It’s a baby,” breathed Fjorn.
“For a father of four, your powers of observation are astounding,” snipped Jokull.
“What’s it doing here?”
Jokull picked the baby up. Its eyes snapped open. It released a week little cry.
Fjorn pulled the stopper from his skin. “Here.” Carefully he tipped a bit of weak mead into the baby’s mouth.
The babe swallowed. Jokull stared into the little-one’s face. His features grew soft, then he sniffed and grimaced.
“Fjorn, you have experience with this. The baby smells,” remarked Jokull.
Fjorn shook his head. “I’ve done my time as a father. Let’s go to the stream we passed getting here. You can clean up the mess.”
Jokull stared at the small life in his arms and felt something he never had before. Let’s get you cleaned up my fine.” He paused and checked under the blanket. “Girl.” He started towards the stream.
Fjorn held back, staring into the trees. “You can come out now.”
A dark-haired, young woman in a tattered dress crept from the underbrush. “Please don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.
“Why’d you leave the baby?” asked Fjorn.
“I’d rather sacrifice my child then have her live as a thrall.” A hint of defiance crept into the girl’s voice. “When the master got me with child, the mistress sold me on. I managed to slip away from the slavers while they were taking me to market. That’s when baby came.”
Fjorn looked at the girl and nodded. Fishing in his purse, he pulled out three-quarter silver coins. “It’s not much, but if you go south, you’ll hit the main road. Turn east and follow it. There’s a town about a day’s walk on.”
Fraction coins: The value of a coin was determined by the weight and type of mettle it was made of. Making change could literally consist of cutting a coin in half or in quarters and dividing the pieces. Eventually, someone would collect enough segments together to recast and stamp a new coin.
“Thank you, sir. The babe.”
Fjorn smiled. “The babe will have a good home. Will, you sacrifice knowing it so it will have parents that will adore it and rase it a freeman?”
“That I will. Thank you.” The girl started down the trail away from the hunters.
Fjorn found Jokull at the stream. The little girl was washed and wrapped in his cloak while the tattered blanket it had been wrapped in lay over a branch to dry.
“It looks like Freya was listening,” observed Fjorn.
“Edda will have to have something to say about that.”
Two hours later, Edda cradled her new daughter, Brina, while Jokull closed the deal on a nursing goat. The elk had brought good fortune to all, and a love Jokull and Edda had thought they had forsaken into their lives. There would be fears and worries, but they were the way of life, and in that time and place, all were blessed.
Sigurlina stepped out of the great hall and fought down the desire to scream. Loftveig, her mother, was driving her insane.
“Problems dear?” asked her mother in law as she approached from the smith’s shop. She was a slender woman with steel-grey hair that she wore up in braids. Her work dress was covered in bits of darning from where sparks had fallen on it as her husband and sons worked the forge
“Nanna, are Fjorn and I useless, lazy and bad parents? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” Sigurlina’s voice held pleading.
The older woman let out a puff of breath. “You’d not be living in my house if you were.”
“Why does she say things like that to me?”
Nanna hugged her daughter in law. “Some folk can only feel high about themselves when they stand on others, and you’re vulnerable to her because she taught you when you were a barn to listen to her lies. You were expecting too much when you thought that would stop ‘cause you were grown up and married. This business of her wanting to buy a house with you and Fjorn has brought it all up and spitting.”
“It would be nice to have the extra space, but…No, not if it means living with her. I’m tired of her speaking against my husband because he isn’t a Karl or a Jarl. He’s a Master Smith, and that’s something.” “Good girl.” Nanna squeezed Sigurlina’s arm. You’ll get a house of your own soon as things pick up at the forge, and you won’t have to be a whipping horse to do it.