💙05 - Sálavörðr [Runes of Wyrd - vol 2]🤍

In the pic, from left to right Mikell Skar Queen Skörta Eldrún of Norway Album : https://suno.com/playlist/d3b85d17-41e5-4f6c-bfbc-4086191ed19e 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 Somewhere on a lost island of the archipelago, a voice broke the damp silence of the forest. “Mother? MOTHER?! Helena?! Father?!” Bruno struggled through the black rocks and wind-bent pines. His clothes were still soaked, clinging to his freezing skin, and every step awakened the pain left behind by the waves. Cuts marked his face and arms, but he was alive. By some miracle, he was alive. Around him, there was nothing but the cries of seabirds and the wind whistling through the trees. The young man clenched his jaw, trying to remain calm. He walked down toward a small cove in search of fresh water. His hands trembled slightly from the cold. “No... no no... it can’t end like this... Not now...” he muttered to himself before suddenly raising his head. “MIKELL?! WHERE ARE YOU?!” No answer. Only the cracking of branches and the distant growl of the ocean. The cold was slowly invading his muscles. Bruno rubbed his arms before continuing his walk. He found a few wild berries and ate them without even thinking about the taste. Hunger and fear crushed everything else. But as the hours passed, the anxiety kept growing. He was alone. Far away, upon the still raging sea, a large wooden plank drifted slowly between the waves. Part of the drakkar’s broken hull. Mikell Skar knelt upon it, soaked to the bone, trying to keep the survivors conscious. Several crates of supplies and water skins had somehow been saved during the chaos. Torstein lay against the wood, blood dried across his forehead. Jarl Mikal-Finnvard breathed heavily, his arm hanging at a terrible angle. And Queen Skörta... She was not moving. Mikell approached her with strange calm despite the situation. He slid one hand behind her neck and gently tilted her head to the side. Her breathing was weak. Very weak. But her heart still beat. “Hmm...” he whispered with a tired smile. “You are not allowed to die yet, Your Majesty.” As he carefully turned her to make sure no water remained in her lungs, something moved beneath her clothes. Blíðki. The small black cat quietly emerged from her tunic and stared at Mikell with still, unreadable eyes. The wanderer remained silent for a few seconds. Then he slowly lifted his eyepatch. His visible eye studied the animal intensely... before Mikell nearly flinched in shock. He quickly lowered the eyepatch again. “By Odin...” he murmured. “This is even more incredible than I imagined...” He gently took the cat into his arms. “You, little one... you are never here by accident.” Then he placed Blíðki upon the queen’s stomach. Moments later, Skörta’s breathing became steadier. Calmer. As though her body answered some invisible presence. At the same time, the jarl awakened with a groan of agony. “Ahhh... by all the gods...” He clenched his teeth while looking at his arm. “They tried to send us straight to Valhalla... Ah damn it... my shoulder...” Torstein opened his eyes as well, still dazed. His gaze immediately fell upon Mikell, sitting beside the queen while whispering incomprehensible prayers. The bodyguard frowned. “Hey Mikell... what are you doing to the queen?” His voice carried irritation, though his skull hurt too much for anger to fully take control. Mikell simply raised a hand to calm him. “Let me work. She is slowly returning to us. Her spirit is still fighting.” Then he pointed toward the jarl. “But you... you should take care of his shoulder. I do not think it belongs where it should anymore.” Torstein pressed a hand against his forehead and sighed deeply. “Fine... fine...” A nearly disturbing grin appeared on his face. “I always dreamed of making a preacher of the Green Faith suffer.” The jarl remained surprisingly calm despite the pain. “One clean movement, please. I trust you.” Torstein nodded slightly. Then he suddenly slapped the jarl across the face with brutal force. “AAAHH SON OF HEL AND FENRIR! DRITT! HRÁKSMERÐR OF CURSED FILTH!” At the exact same moment, he grabbed the arm and forced the shoulder back into place with a violent motion. A sickening crack echoed above the waves. The jarl screamed so loudly it seemed to travel across the ocean itself. “ÓÐINN TAKE THIS SHITTY ARM! AAAHHH!” Torstein let out a tired laugh. “Do not thank me, jarl. I did it with love.” Despite the pain, Mikal-Finnvard finally answered with a faint smile and a grateful look. Mikell then spoke again, far more serious this time. “Rest, MF. We will need you later. I have heard birds for some time now... land cannot be far away anymore.” Torstein then turned toward Skörta. “And my queen...?” Mikell looked at the cat resting upon her before calmly answering: “She will return. Her spirit is weakened, but it has not surrendered.” Torstein narrowed his eyes. “And why does that cat remain on her stomach like that?” Mikell’s expression shifted slightly. “Because Blíðki is a conduit. A bridge.” He paused before continuing in a lower voice. “How do you think your mother managed to intervene in Midgard after the Bifröst was destroyed? The gods always find other paths...” His gaze slowly rose toward Torstein. “But every path has a price.” 💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍 Sál rís... rís upp... Blóð seið... (seiðr minn...) Hjarta slær... slær hægt... Draumr sefur... (sefur djúpt...) Skuggr flýr... flýr hægt... Undan ljós... Fjöður svíf... Auga sér... sér djúpt... Gegnum tíð... Eldur grætur... Grætur enn... (fyrir oss...) Líf bind... bindast nú... (í blóði...) Sál vaknar... (vakna hér...) (hjá mér...) Hrím falla... (falla hægt...) Norn syngja... (undir vind...) Sær kallar... (kallar djúpt...) Líf snýr heim... (heim aftur...) Sálavörðr... (vörðr minn...) Sálavörðr... ljós í myrkri... Sálavörðr... (andar vaka...) Sálavörðr... yfir sær og blóð... Sálavörðr... (vakna nú...) Sálavörðr... hönd við hjarta... Fylgja rís... rís hjá oss... Draumr lifir í Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... Aeya... vae... hrím... Ljóssál... ae... Haa... svaa... fjara... Sær opnast... (opnast hægt...) Blíðki sér... sér veginn... Líf andar... (andar enn...) Vængr hvíslar... hvíslar mjúkt... Stjarna brennr... (brennr hægt...) Dóttir vaknar... vakna nú... Seiðr rennr... (rennr hægt...) Nótt grætur... grætur hljótt... (yfir sær...) Sál bindast... bindast enn... Himin syngur... (syngur hátt...) Vetr andar... (andar kalt...) Líf rís upp... (upp úr sær...) Sál finn heim... Sálavörðr... (vörðr minn...) Sálavörðr... ljós yfir dauða... Sálavörðr... (andar syngja...) Sálavörðr... leið oss heim... Sálavörðr... (vakna nú...) Sálavörðr... hjarta brennr enn... Fylgja vakir... vakir hjá oss... Líf snýr aftur í Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... ljós mitt... Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... yfir sær... Sálavörðr... hjarta mitt... Sálavörðr... (ljós rís...) Sálavörðr... ljós mitt... Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr... ljós mitt... Sálavörðr... Sálavörðr...