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THE NORNS



The train rocked from side to side and the words on the page blurred. Valerie Carrington removed her reading glasses, pinched her nose and rubbed her eyes. The drab, shadowy suburbs of London flew past, a ghostly canvas hanging from the forbidding winter sky. Staring at her reflection through the grimy window, Valerie brushed a wayward curl from her face, wincing at the sight of the grey streaks running through her thick, unruly red hair.

‘Have you thought about dying your hair,’ her mother had said just yesterday. Followed by a cutting comment about her body and clothes.

Elizabeth Carrington had once graced the covers of glossy fashion magazines; Valerie knew she was plain. Her hair and loose-fitting clothes the opposite to her mother’s smooth, blond chignon and elegant wardrobe.  She turned from the window and glanced at the cover of her book as she put it in her over-sized bag. Valerie sighed. If only men like that really existed, she thought, fixing her eyes on the handsome, dark-haired Viking gazing back at her. Tonight, curled up in the pull-down bed of her tiny Shepherd’s Bush attic flat, she would rejoin him on his journey home.

 The train jolted Valerie from her days dreams as it pulled into the Tottenham Court Road station, her stop for the British Museum.  

*

‘Valerie,’ a voice called to her. She dropped her bag on the desk. ‘You’re wanted in the exhibition area. The electrician is waiting. Considering he charges more than a brain surgeon, you’d better not waste time, or budget.’

Valerie sighed. Her manager was always banging on about the running costs of the new exhibition, despite the crowds it had drawn to the museum in the just the first three weeks since it opened.

‘I’ll go straight away,’ Valerie said, glad to have an excuse to escape the prying eyes of Jane Meadows, known to all the staff as Micromanager Meadows.

She hurried to the elevator, anxious to get the lights fixed before the exhibition opened for the day, knowing there would be no opening without the lights. Six school groups were booked in, on top on the long queue Valerie had passed on her way into the building. The museum would open to the public in ninety minutes. As her boss had just reminded her, there was no time to waste.

The doors slid open and Valerie stepped out into the cavernous room housing the new Vikings exhibition. It had taken over six months to curate, trawling through dusty boxes in the extensive museum basements. Some pieces had never been displayed before, some were recent discoveries from a treasure hoard unearthed near York by an amateur archaeologist with a metal detector.

  The room was swathed in black cloth, the overhead lights dimmed to allow the glass cabinets holding the delicate artifacts to glow in the light of individual spotlights beaming into each piece. This morning the exhibit lights were dark. Last night, just as the building closed, there had been a brown out in the area, and the lights had stayed off.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw a man peering into the display cabinet in the middle of the room. His broad shoulders strained the cloth of his orange hi-vis vest that suggested he could be the electrician.

‘Where’s Charlie?’ she said.

The man turned around. He gazed at her with a wry grin on his lips. Valerie gulped and tried not to stare. Thick jet-black hair swept back from his high forehead and curled over the collar of a denim shirt.  His close-cropped beard cast a shadow on his lightly tanned face. Her eyes went to the Thor’s hammer hanging around his neck, nestling in the tangle of dark curls poking up from his open-necked work shirt. A ruby stud glinted in his left ear.

‘Charlie’s on holiday.’ He spoke with a thick Scottish accent that reminded Valerie of her grandfather. ‘You’ll have to make do with me I’m afraid. I’m Finn.’

 He held out his hand. She held her breath.

 ‘Finn,’ he repeated, shaking Valerie from her silent musing.

‘Sorry,’ she said, hoping he didn’t notice how her hand had trembled as she shook his. ‘I’ve got so much on my mind at the moment, these lights being the most important.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Can you have them working again in just over an hour.’

‘No’ a problem.’ Finn said. ‘I’ve already checked. The spotlights blew when the museum was hit by the brown out last night. Won’t take long to change them. Come back in half an hour and I’ll have them all done.’

‘I can’t leave you alone,’ she said. ‘Museum policy. I have to open each of the cabinets for you to get into the lights. No way am I allowed to leave you with the keys. It’s not worth my job.’

‘Well, in that case, it will be nice to have your company. Maybe you can explain some of the exhibits to me while we make our way around the room.’ A broad smile lit up his handsome face.

Valerie blushed. ‘Of course, anything in particular?’

‘Just about everything.’ He fingered the silver Thor’s hammer hanging from his neck. ‘I’ve always had an interest in the Vikings. Granddad always said we were descended from them, back when the Vikings swept through the northern isles.’

Oh yes, Valerie thought, you are a Viking, you’re my Viking. Her mind flashed back to the cover of the book, to Sigurd Haraldsson, the hero of her novel. Sigurd whose arms would welcome her tonight as she lost herself in the pages of the story.

Valerie pulled herself back from her fantasy. Flecks of gold flashed in Finn’s dark eyes, like flickering stars in an endless midnight sky.

‘Can you open this one for me?’ He pointed to the glass cabinet holding a jade pendant.

‘That’s interesting,’ Finn pointed to the polished green stone. ‘Not very Viking.’

‘No,’ Valerie said. ‘We believe the jade came from India and was probably carved when it was brought back to Norway.’

Valerie pulled the cabinet keys from her skirt pocket and opened the door. Finn bent forward, reached into the cabinet and unscrewed the bulb, then turned around and handed it to her.

‘Hold this.’ His fingers brushed against the palm of her hand and her heart race.

Finn leant down and pulled a new bulb from the bag at his feet. Valerie watched as he twisted it into the fitting and the light came on, illuminating a sequence of angular lines on the jade pendant. He stepped back and waited as she locked the cabinet door. His dark eyes lingered and her fingers trembled as she turned the key. She felt a rush of warm blood rising up her neck and turned to hide the blush.  

‘You can see the distinctive Nordic carvings on its surface now that the light is on it,’ Valerie said.

‘The Web of Wyrd,’ he said. ‘Symbol of Norns, the goddesses who determined the destinies and lifespans of people. Maybe a warrior had it carved for his lady love.’ His eyes twinkled as he spoke.

 ‘You’ve already seen the exhibition, haven’t you?’ Valerie said.

.

***

Thorfinn Ragnaldsson pushed a thick strand of jet-black hair behind his ear. He fingered the ruby stone pierced into his right ear on the day he had joined the Vargarian Guard of the Emperor Basil 111 of Constantinople. Five years ago, he had sailed from his village of Holmsland, on the shores of Sanday, a small island on the northern end of the Orkney Islands. He had been twenty when men had returned from the distant lands to the east with tales of riches beyond belief. Their sea chests overflowed with gold and silver and Thorfinn wanted his share. He touched the leather pouch next to the Thor’s hammer hanging around his neck. The silver pendant had been a gift from his woman on the day he sailed. He had promised to hand fast himself to Valfrid when he returned with enough wealth to please her father.  The leather pouch held a treasure beyond value. Tonight, he would present the precious stone to Valfrid, a symbol of his ever-lasting love.

Thorfinn hugged the carved dragon head and watch the island grow closer as the long ship plowed through the heavy North Sea waters. The golden dragon, symbol of the wealth he carried home, danced on the billowing red sail, proof of his success as a warrior and a leader. He turned to his crew, men he had fought beside in the outer reaches of the Emperor Basil’s domains, far to the east of his homeland. His chest swelled with pride, knowing these men would follow him to the ends of the earth.

‘Furl the sail,’ Thorfinn shouted to the crew. From here they would row the long ship against the heavy timbers of Holmsland’s landing stage.

The men pulled hard on the oars and the mood on the ship rippled with excitement as cries of welcome from their womenfolk floated across the water. Thorfinn swallowed as the blur of villagers cleared and he caught sight of Valfrid standing beside her father, Kari Ericsson.  Her flaming red hair swirled around her face as she beckoned to him. He raised his hand and waved back.

‘Pull in,’ Thorfinn shouted to the oarsmen.

The ship slammed into the side of the landing and Thorfinn leapt from the prow as the men tied the mooring ropes to a sturdy post. He ran the length of the landing, his sea legs almost giving way, until he reached Valfrid. Thorfinn opened his arms to embrace his woman. At the same time her father thrust his arm in Thorfinn’s chest.

‘Have you come with treasures worthy of my daughter?’ Kari said.

Thorfinn smiled. Kari was a hard man to please, but Thorfinn knew him as a man who stood by his promise. Thorfinn turned back to the boat and called to his crew.

‘Bring me the treasures.’

Two men leapt from the ship and hauled a heavy wooden box the length of the landing. They dropped Thorfinn’s sea chest at the feet of Valfrid’s father. Kari smiled wryly at Thorfinn as he bent down and lifted the heavy lid. The sea chest overflowed with gold goblets, strands of pearls and glitter gems fit for a queen.

‘By the Gods,’ Kari shouted. ‘A man worthy of my greatest treasure.’

The big man stepped aside and Thorfinn swept Valfrid into his arms. He stroked her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of pine as he cupped her face in his hands before kissing her full lips with a desperate passion.

‘Enough, enough,’ Kari growled. ‘Tonight, we celebrate your safe return. Tomorrow we plan your wedding.’

Thorfinn drew away from Valfrid and reached into the leather pouch. He lifted out a polished green stone attached to a fine golden wire. Brushing her hair from her face he fastened the pendant around her neck.

Valfrid ran her fingers over the stone. She held it up and smiled when she saw the markings carved into the surface.

‘The Norns,’ she said. ‘The Web of Wyrd.’

‘To entwine our destinies forever,’ Thorfinn said.

He turned the stone over. She gasped at the runic etching on the other side - ᛋᚡᚨᛋᛋ.

‘Beloved,’ he said. ‘The runes have spoken. Beloved forever.’

***

‘May I,’ Finn said as his fingers ran across the jadestone.

Valerie nodded. His picked it up and looked at the runic carvings on the other side.

‘Beloved,’ he murmured as he gently placed the stone back on the red velvet cushion and waited for Valerie to lock the cabinet.

          Finn looked at Valerie. His eyes softened and he smiled as she began to escort him from the museum, past long line of the public waiting patiently for the exhibition to open. Valerie trailed behind him, the keys jangling in her hand. Finn stopped. She tripped and very nearly collided with his back. He turned around, his body was close enough for her to hear his heartbeat. She shivered despite the warmth of the building.

        ‘I don’t suppose you would like to have dinner with me?’ he said.      

        Valerie felt his warm breath on her face. She blushed, cursing herself as she fought to regain her composure.

‘I think I might just like that. Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in.’  Valerie typed the number into her contacts list.’

She had surprised herself with the suddenness of her reply. Valerie Carrington was normally cautious when it came to men. She had been hurt too many times in the past.

Finn ran his thumb down her face and Valerie met his gaze, watching as his eyes settled on her mouth. He bent down and their lips met, Valerie pulled away, his explored her face and kissed her again. The kiss deepened and her body shuddered with pleasure.

‘Valerie,’ a woman’s voice shouted out from inside the exhibition room. ‘Are the lights on? Are we ready to open?’

Finn stepped back and smiled. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as Jane Meadow’s high-pitched voice echoed down the empty hall.

      ‘Tonight?’ he whispered.

THE END


May 22, 2020 00:22

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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