💙15 - Eir kalla [Runes of Wyrd]🤍

In the pic, from left to right Torstein Orrisson – Personal bodyguard of Skörta and loyal servant of the Eldrún family Blíðkanelhjarti alias Blíðki - Skörta's loyal companion Eir - Goddess of healing Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 The drakkar cut through the cold waters in a heavy, almost unnatural silence. There were no victory songs aboard, no laughter to welcome the return. Only the wind carried the weight of unease. Skörta Eldrún, now queen, stood at the prow, Blíðki curled in her arms. Her fingers moved absently through the cat’s fur, a simple, instinctive gesture, as if holding onto something alive in the midst of chaos. Behind her, several drengr carried Torstein with great care. The warrior, once so imposing, now seemed emptied of all strength. His chest bore a deep wound, dark and still damp despite the makeshift treatment. The bleeding had stopped, but life itself seemed to linger far behind his closed eyes. When the drakkar finally reached Skalvheim, a contained agitation spread along the docks. Jarl Mikal-Finnvard Arvast stepped forward, accompanied by a few trusted men. His expression was grave, though his posture remained dignified. “Welcome to Skalvheim, Princess Skörta Eldrún... or should I say, Queen. I have heard about your father. Despite our differences, he was a great man. You have my condolences.” The queen inclined her head slightly, never releasing Blíðki, whom she held just a little tighter. “Thank you for your words, Jarl Mikal-Finnvard. And I will remember your generosity in granting us refuge... especially for him.” Her gaze briefly shifted toward Torstein. Without wasting a moment, the men carried the wounded warrior toward the healing hut. Bruno stepped forward, visibly shaken. “Torstein... hey, can you hear me? Wake up...” His voice lacked certainty. Mikell placed a hand on his shoulder. “He cannot hear you, clever boy. His body is here... but the rest...” He paused briefly. “Come. Let us fetch the one who speaks with plants... and with what lies beyond.” Bruno hesitated, then followed. Inside the hut, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, crushed roots, and slow-burning smoke. Min was already at work, preparing a clean space, her movements precise despite the visible tension in her face. Johannes stood apart, silent, observing everything with an intensity that felt almost unsettling. The druid Mikki Þríkungr arrived shortly after, already murmuring incomprehensible words. He knelt beside Torstein, hovering his hands above the wound without touching it, then closed his eyes. A strange silence settled. “He is alive...” he finally murmured. “But his spirit... has joined the gods.” The jarl raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised by such words spoken so openly. Skörta stepped closer. “What do you mean?” The druid slowly stood, then moved toward her. Too close. Close enough for her to instinctively take a step back, though her posture remained firm, tightening her hold on Blíðki without realizing it. “He walks where the living do not. Between breath... and silence. Only Odin could tell us why.” Skörta narrowed her eyes. “I thought you no longer believed in the gods.” A quiet laugh escaped the old man. “Oh... they never stopped being there.” The jarl intervened, raising a steady hand. “This is not the time. It is... complicated. We will speak of it later.” The queen gave a slight nod, then returned her attention to Torstein. “What can we do?” “Stabilize his body. Feed the life that remains. But to wake him...” He shook his head slowly. “That is not in our hands.” Later, in the great hall, the night stretched into long, tense discussions. Between cups of mead, the jarl and the queen spoke of what few dared voice aloud. Fragile alliances, ancient fears, and growing political shadows. Skörta remained composed and sharp. Mikal-Finnvard weighed each word carefully, revealing doubt without ever weakening his authority. Meanwhile, Blíðki had slipped away. The cat moved silently out of the hall, like a shadow slipping through cracks. He returned to the hut and leapt lightly onto Torstein’s body, settling on his stomach as if standing guard. The night shifted. Torstein opened his eyes... elsewhere. He stood upon the slopes of Lyfjaberg, the mountain of remedies. The place was bathed in a soft, unreal light, neither warm nor cold. Silver-hued herbs swayed under an invisible wind, and the air carried a strange peace, as though each breath erased the pain of the world. A presence approached. Eir. Silent, luminous without glare, she placed her hand upon his wound. “My son... it is not your time.” Her voice was gentle, yet absolute. “Return.” The world shattered. Torstein jolted awake in the dark, gasping for air. Blíðki leapt back with a startled meow, landing softly on the ground. The warrior pressed his hands against his chest. The wound... was gone. “Mother...” he whispered, breath trembling, as if the word had risen from somewhere deeper than memory itself. The silence that followed felt almost sacred. 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 Andar... hee...haayi... ljós... Hvísl í köldu lofti mmmhhh ó...ó... Sálir stíga heee-yoohh undir skugga Ek heyri ek finn þeir vaka Jarl gengr einn drottning bíður örlög dragast Hjarta slær tími brotnar heee...ha... Augu tala án orða mmmhhh Andar sjá þau bundin í dómr Heehaayiiyoohh hee...hee... ó...ó... Blóð kallar andar svara hey...HEY... Sár opnast líf titrar mmmhhh...ahh... Nótt grípr kuldi etr heee-yoohh Sál fer langt burt ó...ó...ó... Lyfjaberg rís himin snýr ljós rennr Eir kemur mjúk sem dagr ahhh... Hönd snertir sár þagnar mmmhhh... Andar kyrra tími fellr ó... Líf bíðar á þræði hee... Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla líf snýr vakna nú Eir kalla andar rísa vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla blóð grær vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla örlög snúast vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú [Eir] Sofn eigi enn, son minn, hlýð mér Ek stend hér, í ljósi þínu Sár þitt þagnar, hold þitt grær Andar vaka, þú ert séðr Ek snerti þik, líf snýr aftur Örlög bíða, ei lokið ferð Rís nú hægt, með ljósi mínu Snú aftur heim, Torsteinn minn Ek... ek sé hann liggr mmm... Blóð var kalt nú... heitt hee... Hver talar? hver kallar? ó! Eir...? eða draumr? ahh... Heehaayi... yoohh... mmmhhh... Andr kemr aftur heim líf kviknar Brjóst rís hægur andi mmm... Augu opnast heimr snýr ó... Skuggar hverfa ljós vex hee... Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla líf snýr vakna nú Eir kalla andar rísa vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla blóð grær vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Eir kalla örlög snúast vakna nú Eir kalla líf líf vakna nú Eir kalla Eir kalla vakna nú Sofnar stormr friður rís mmm... Andar vaka í kyrrð ó... Hee... Haayi... hverfr ljós...