THE LAST VIKING QUEEN STANDING

~ Noveorode ~

A story is told of the first Viking men who were given a gift from Odin; the Allfather, to become his greatest warriors. They were far more than warriors, they were ferocious as hounds and covered in skins of wolves, and this gift as howling wolves was passed on to their children. The wolves became part of their soul, mind and their body until they became one. Frode's father Gunnar was one of the wolf warriors until he died, or at least that's what the saga said.

Frode Malrud was the next Viking chieftain of Noveorode, the wolf tribe, and was madly in love with his spouse Randi, who was brought up by her father to be a shield-maiden but then later raised by her aunt because unfortunately both of her parents died in battle. Noveorode has been Frode's home for all his life, a small outlying fishing village, surrounded by mountains on three sides and the natural splendour of a narrow bay called Windwater Lake, a shallow and very difficult-to-navigate bay because of the many sandy and stony reefs and its tricky, shifty currents. It was the only way to get in and out by sea. The village was built along the rugged coastline far enough from other tribes that might raid them with a few areas of land scattered around for agriculture and livestock, but the areas were known for being rugged and rough, there was a lack of good farmland to share out. Without the farming and the livestock they had, families wouldn't survive through the winters.

The winters were long, cruel, dark and bitterly cold. Daylight flicks by in a few brief hours. Men, women and children stayed in their huts as they carded, spun, wove and knit. Families sat for hours around the fire the only light they had in the middle of the room. Shadows flitted in the dark corners as smoke curled up along the high beams in the ceiling. Now and then, the children sat on the dirt floor close to the fire to listen to their fathers tell old tales of Odin and Thor and mythical beasts until they knew them by heart.

And sometimes their sons would flash their little wooden dagger like a sword, and say, "When I am old enough, I will have a sword and fight for Allfather," swinging the little dagger as though it were a long sword. Everybody was busy with one thing or another, and that left their minds free to think and talk about the summer, "Oh, yes, it was the talk of every family, fishing of whales, the killing of foxes, trading and raiding," they couldn't wait.

As winter was finally drawing to a close and the first daylight of spring had arrived, with temperatures warming up, you could hear sounds of dripping water droplets falling one after another from icicles ringing the roofs of the hut in buckets. The frozen mud had become soft, making it easy for hunters to ride out and follow tracks, and most of the snow had melted away. With a chill still in the air, there was an audible echo sound in the air coming from the shoreline and splashing water underneath its docks.

The muddy streets were bustling with crowds. People busied themselves with chores; some were hunters, while others were cooking, salting, tanning leather, blacksmithing, and dyeing cloth. Others were farmers that had taken up arms to protect themselves from invaders when the warriors left to raid.

Frode had a strong sense of responsibility; he always tried his best to keep Noverode peaceful and safe for his people. As a result, he became a respected figure. He appeared as a robust and muscular figure that intimidated those who crossed his path. He had two locks tied together to form one big well-groomed beard, His body marked by scars, earned by battle, challenges and fights throughout the years decorating his skin, which he worn them with pride. His right eye was covered in warrior's kohl, and he was tattooed from his left shoulder down to the elbow. He was a man of reason, and told his wife of his plan to help the Earl form a big Viking nation. He was ambitious, willing to take risks and make significant sacrifices to save and protect his people.