Chapter 11

It was kismet of the evil variety that two hours before the last Mead Feed got under way Rolf's oak keel and planking arrived; all fifteen thousand pounds of it, including the seven hundred pound pine mast. Petr, Rolf, an excited Edred, and Tranum stripped off their shirts and began unloading logs and beams off the wide, flatbed truck so that it could clear their driveway and let the inn's early arriving guest's through to the parking lot beside the longhouse.

Tabby and Linden, though also very curious, were left to scramble with the last minute preparations for the buffet. It had Tabby muttering darkly about male chauvinism and the pink-collar ghetto that had better change once the actual ship building started... or else!

But Linden, after handing out her few pairs of gardening gloves and telling the men to wear them because she was not going to be available for pulling splinters out of stubborn hides that evening, said tartly that she was just as happy not collecting wood wounds, sweating up her clean white costume, and getting flattened by body sized blocks when the rusty hoist broke-- as it surely would before the day was through.

What she didn't explain to her young friend was that when Rolf and Tranum said all hands on deck, they meant all male hands, and would probably continue to mean it. Linden knew it even if Tabby didn't. Vikings might have been less chauvinistic than their European counter-parts, allowing women property rights and so on, but when all was said and done, they were still men and came with all the usual limited male perspectives and beliefs.

That meant that women could slave from sun-up to sun-down, just not at anything interesting or glorious. A smart woman learned to let them do these laborious, sweaty jobs when they were so inclined. The impulse was so rare, and the glory too fleeting to tempt a tired female to vainglory... Of course, Tabby was still very young.

The three Linguists, though less qualified than Linden or Tabby in both muscle and know-how, were pressed into carter service as well, since they persisted in following Tranum around and he told them-- in crisp, archaic Danish, which they listened to raptly-- that they could stay only if they made themselves useful and did not mar the lumber by dropping it carelessly.

Once the three discovered that Rolf and Tranum were planning to build a replica of a Viking longboat-- with only hand tools and no metal nails of any kind!-- the three men set to work with a will, only occasional dashing off to scribble some notes when Tranum indulged in some creative cursing in Old Danish.

Faust, in his excitement, even began suggesting things like collaborating on a magazine article about building a ship with old tools and explaining old sailing terms and sagas, which the others seconded vociferously, and even improved on by suggesting that a book could follow.

Tranum found the chatter annoying, but Rolf pulled him aside to explain quickly about the old publish or perish rule that existed in the halls of Academe, a notion which intrigued Tranum-- Perish how? Publish what? And where was this hall of Academe?-- and, Rolf pointed out before he could ask, there could be a great deal of fame and wealth attached to the venture as well.

Tranum looked at the fading sky as he considered briefly. Every Viking sought fame. As both Havamal and Odin said: Cattle die; kinsmen die; you likewise must die; But the voice of fame never dies for him who has a good reputation.

Tranum decided to permit a few interruptions in the interest of fame and his reputation in this new world since this might be part of the karma debt Rolf mentioned. He had not, after all, achieved great fame in Denmark before departing for this land.

And it was obvious to everyone right from the start who was in charge of permitting things on this project.

Rolf, to his credit, abdicated the position of foreman without a backward glance. He wanted a good boat; Tranum would give it to him. Of course, only the two of them knew just why Tranum was the real expert about building Viking ships. But as long as they all had the name of Kirstensen, no one was going to enquire too closely about the how and why of it... and he had cautioned Tranum about why the deception was necessary. Being pragmatic, and wanting to stay with Linden, Tranum would use all care, he was sure.

Rolf smiled broadly. He would co-author the article instead. After all, someone who understood the technical side of boat building and could write in English had to handle that aspect of the project. He was already rubbing his hands together at the thought of the publicity the story would bring. It would fetch a lot of tourism to the inn and send his modeling company's profits through the roof. It wasn't exactly the type of fame that Tranum was looking for, but Rolf figured that for the passifist, late twentieth century, it would do nicely.

Rolf snagged an enthusiastic Professor Faust and dragged the man out of the way of the boat hoist they purloined from the old jetty, as the kjerringa or "old crone" was swung out from the flat bed. The mast partner was a serious piece of wood, about eight feet long that would rest against the keel and transmitted the force of the wind, that could move the ship at a respectable twelve knots, down from the thirty-six foot, seven hundred pound mast, thirty-five foot yard arm, and hundred and two square yard woolen wadmal sail that Linden had woven over the course of the last eighteen months, out to the cross beams where the kjerringa was lashed, and then down along the hull.

...Did the professor realize that their ship was not going to be a true clinker built? What was a clinker? Well, before there were metal nails or rivets there was only juniper for lashings straked together and trenails, and they built the ship backwards from the modern construction methods-- except the keel! Step this way and Rolf would be happy to demonstrate why there were no nails in the strakes. Very flexible stuff that juniper root... What was a strake?

Tranum grunted approval of Rolf's tactics, even though it meant a loss of muscle, and then he got on with the business of moving the oak trunk that would be the future keel. He ran his hands over the wood assessingly. It had already been stripped of bark and the naked wood was beginning to dry. It was not as thick as some trees he had seen, so the curve of the keel would be moderate; but for a sea going vessel it was best to keep the prow low and the meginhufr, gunwale, Rolf called it, elevated. A high bow or stern profile was a dangerous wind catcher in the open ocean, as he knew from experience, but at the same time it was necessary to keep the proportion to the sides... which in turn could not be so high that men and horses could not jump over the gunwale. It also had to be built up enough to keep out of the reach of the sometimes strong waves that accompanied summer storms at sea.

Nothing would keep out the waves of a winter storm-- but no one ever sailed in the winter months any way. So there was no need to worry. Rolf had drawn Tranum's plan on four- eighty-six. The hull was broad and stable, the draft shallow, she would draw no more than three feet, fully loaded. Wave- Rider would be a sea-worthy ship and gain much praise from those who saw her.

Tranum shrugged off the shadow that had touched his heart and reached for the hoist. There had been moments in the last two days when he felt that Fate had turned its eye in his direction to see if he was still within reach. Or perhaps it was Odin's all-seeing ravens flying overhead as they gathered information for their one-eyed master. But it mattered not to him if the gods were looking. There had been no bad omens. His luck was still good. He was definitely staying in Club Valhalla.

Tranum barked an order to Petr and Edred. His new friends, except for Rolf, were very ignorant of ship building. The wood needed to be stacked in the order of use or much time and effort would be wasted with shifting it around later on. Many of the logs were very heavy. Fortunately, the men--unlike Linden-- took direction well and Tranum was certain that he could teach them wood-craft.

He took up slack on the hoist and then looked around quickly to see where Borg and Llwellyn were. These two men of learning he did not mind, as they talked less than Faust and worked more. Perhaps he would even ask them to stay and work on the boat, since they were interested and there was this matter of publish or perish... Later he would speak to Rolf and Linden about this idea. For now, he wished to finish this task and go dine on some of the roasting meats that Linden was preparing on the outdoor fire pit.

And when the meal was through, he might tell another saga of the old kings of Norway and Denmark. The silly nithings and charcoal chewers who came to dine and dance would not understand, but Edred and the learned men would enjoy it.

And then after everyone had retired, he would speak to Linden about a marriage. So far there had been no opportunity for private conversation with his distracted Valkyrie, who was, for once, every bit as serious and responsible as she had claimed to be. Giving each person their own room created a great deal of work for her and Tabby. Linden also kept up the garden and prepared the food. She was always busy when he went looking for her.

Having seen her efficiency as mistress of the household, Tranum would have no hesitation in letting her organize a raid for him or run his farm. His Valkyrie was good at planning small details, had a will of iron, and she forgot nothing. Grandfather Selig would have approved of her.

As a kendt-mand, a navigator, he also valued the small details that others overlooked.

As her lover, he wished that she could spare him a little more time. She rose before him most mornings while the sky was still dark and retired early while he and Rolf were still making ship plans on four-eighty-six.

This would not have disturbed him except that his instincts were telling him that his Valkyrie was quite upset beneath her cloak of competence and calm. There was no sign of playfulness, and he didn't like it. There was no knowing what Linden might do when she was disturbed.

Linden leaned against the kitchen door a drew a tired breath. The last Mead Feed of the summer was through. Autumn was almost officially upon them and she was ready to start a month-long vacation from being an inn-keeper. She would have been over the moon with ecstasy if she wasn't so tired.

Linden knew that she had been running herself ragged in an effort to keep her mind occupied with other things besides Tranum and the possibility-- well, almost certainty, for the feeling was very definite now-- that she was pregnant.

She didn't like to listen to her consciousness whispering words like un-wed mother. And she didn't like to think about what would happen when the boat was done and they would have to confront the fact that there was no real reason for Tranum to stay.

There was no particular reason for him to leave either since his family was all gone and so was the farm, and boat builders could probably get work anywhere, but her dreams of his departure were graphic enough to be convincing without any proof of his intentions. It felt sometimes like Fate was just going to swoop down and carry him away, whatever her will or desire. Fate could do things like that, and did, especially to Linden.

Linden chewed on her lower lip and scolded herself for the moment of melodrama. She had enough legitimate worries to consider without dragging Fate into her decisions.

Just what had Tranum meant that morning when he said that he would give her reassurance? That he had found a way. What reassurance? Way to what? To stay with her? That seemed a little pre-mature, even if he was claiming an American identity while working on the ship-- After all, that was just Rolf being practical, looking for a tax write-off. It was hardly a permanent solution to their problems.

And Tranum hadn't said much about his plans or feelings, not even that he loved her!

Loved her... Well, it was a little soon for that, too, she thought. Linden didn't believe in love at first sight. Or did she? It had to have been something darn close to it. She had only known Tranum... what, one week? Only one week? And she had certainly fallen before him like summer grasslands to a wildfire. She wondered if it was possible to burn so brightly and not leave scorch marks on her heart.

Linden sighed and straightened. Now she was sounding like a bad country and western love song. Scorch marks on her heart! Of all the stupid things to think of!... She would put the last of bar ware into the dishwasher, then she was going to bed. And she wouldn't think. She wouldn't worry. And she wouldn't dream.

And if her Danish Casanova came creeping in to seduce her again she'd-- well, she'd-- She would probably give right in and be stupid and careless again, Linden thought with another sigh.

So much for a lifetime of will and self-restraint. Her beautiful, Danish pod-person had done something to her brain. Maybe he was a Martian after all and he had a ray-gun that he used on her to incite the kind of lust that destroyed all normal common-sense... Scorch marks on her heart!

It was frustrating that his Valkyrie was again sleeping as one dead when he came to their pallet. He had wished to speak with her that night about making a legal marriage. Unfortunately, it had taken Tranum, Petr and Rolf some time to put away the tables where the Mead Feed was held.

Rolf had said that it wasn't appropriate to ask Edred and the men of learning to assist them.

It had been necessary to do this before retiring as a storm was coming, and the thatched roof over the patio offered little protection from the rain. The tables were made of particle-board and that was apparently very delicate.

The rain also meant that they had had to throw tarps over the lumber for the ship that was stacked along the sides of the patio. Tranum did not want to work with wet logs. Damp wood was an invitation to disaster. If the weather permitted, they would begin labor on the ship in the morning. The patio was an ideal place since it was close to the jetty and would offer them some shade when the afternoon sun grew hot.

Tranum had already checked Rolf's tools. They were very good and sharp. He had all the needed axes, chisels, T-shaped adzes, scrapers, rasps and augers. Also something called a block-plane, that looked useful, and a laminate-trimmer, which did not, but Rolf insisted was functional. Everything was in readiness for the morning.

The only thing that was left unresolved was his relationship with his Valkyrie. He hoped that she would not be difficult about this legal marriage. He had considered it several times and it seemed like the only answer. As long as Linden was free, then she could go to some other man. He didn't like that idea at all. Linden was his. He had come across an ocean of seven hundred years to find her.

Also, he wished their children to be legitimate. There would be children soon, he was certain. His dreams spoke of this.

And marriage would give him a fast tie here. More and more, he had the feeling that he must make these ties secure or he would be called away. Perhaps back to Denmark. Perhaps on to Valhalla. He didn't know exactly. Whatever it was, where ever it was, he didn't want to go.

He like America. He liked having freedom of religion. And he liked...

Tranum paused in his thoughts and stared down at his beautiful Valkyrie her hair spread out like a golden mist in the moonlight.

He felt a great deal more than liking for Linden. He felt possessive, caring... He wanted her all the time. Needed to be near her. He felt...

Tranum shrugged. He knew what he was thinking, but hadn't Odin said: Praise no day until evening, no wife until buried, no sword until tested, no maid until bedded...

Of course, she had been bedded, and certainly she deserved praise for it.

Tranum smiled suddenly in the dark and then began to undress.

So, they would speak in the morning. He would give her every generous word of praise he could think of, and then he would tell her that they would make a legal marriage.

"Are you sleeping, Linden?" asked her lover's voice, as Linden cracked a jaundiced eyes and looked at the dawn's earliest light.

"I'm trying," she sighed. There was no particular reason for her to rise with the sun this morning, but she had gotten into the habit of doing so. Facing Tranum the last few days--after the last few nights-- had been very difficult, and she tried to avoid it until she had some caffeine in her system.

"I wish to speak with you before you sleep some more, and I must rise soon to begin construction of Wave Rider." Tranum leaned on his right arm and stared down at her. He sounded very firm.

"If you must."

"Dani--"

"'Danish, Linden'. Yes, I know. What is it you wish to speak about?" She wished he wouldn't stare so. It made her aware of how tangled her hair was. Did she have sheet marks on her face? Why couldn't he just kiss her good morning like a regular-- regular whatever. Lover. Spouse. Live-in.

Tranum cleared his throat. It was an odd, nearly nervous sound that didn't go well with the fierce, cat eyes, and it snagged her wandering attention as effectively as a badly out of sync soundtrack played over a foreign film; there was sound but no visible lip movement to accompany the bid for attention.

"Linden," he began. "Havamal says that: a man may be blessed with good sons, good friends, and good deeds-- Stop squirming! Did something bite you?"

"Sorry," she apologized. The part about the good sons had taken her by surprise and caused some involuntary twitching. That was one plot that she was not yet ready to review. "Please go on. Havamal says..." "Of all the things a man may be blessed with, a good wife is the most important... Are you breathing, Linden?" Her cat frowned down at her and laid a hand on her chest in the valley between her breasts. The heat of his fingers burned right through the sheer cotton of her gown.

"Of course." Linden sucked air into her lungs just to prove she could. She was ready to swear that Tranum deliberately timed his more difficult conversations for the moments of her greatest vulnerability. Like the middle of the night or immediately upon awakening her from a deep sleep. And the hand on her chest was definitely distracting her from Havamal's latest pithy saying.

"Tranum, I need some coffee. Maybe we could talk about Odin and Havamal later," she suggested hopefully.

"In a moment you may have coffee. I am praising you right now. Please be still."

"Uh... Okay." She tried again to sit up, but Tranum's hard hand held her pinned with casual ease. He obviously meant be

"You are very beautiful, but that does not matter so much in a wife," Tranum went on.

"Such praise," she muttered. "Be careful. I might be over-come."

"You are healthy, strong and clever. That does matter-- You may speak in a moment, Linden--" Tranum said sternly, ignoring her interruption. "My grandfather would have approved of you. Selig wanted to me to marry long ago and have children, but I did not want to be tied to a dying land and refused to do this for him. I denied him and myself that future... Perhaps now news of us will travel to him at Valhalla and he will be glad. Grandfather would like to know of our children, and perhaps it would free me of some of the karma debt." Tranum sounded almost wistful.

"News of us?" Karma debt? she didn't repeat that, thinking her ears had deceived her. Linden remembered to take in some more air before speaking. It was hard to meet the green, hopeful stare hanging over her. She by-passed the our children part as well. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that in Valhalla where I--" Tranum stopped and shook his head. When he spoke again his voice was firm. "I want you to be my wife. Rolf has told me that this can be done. There is a ceremony to make this legal that is not Christian. This is true, is it not?"

"Well, yes. A civil ceremony--" she answered uneasily.

"Good. Does it take long to prepare for this ceremony?"

"No-- Well, it depends!" she sputtered, badly rattled, and a little resentful of being held flat on her back while being proposed to. If one could call anything this casual, unromantic, and sneaky an actual proposal.

"On what does it depend?" Enquired her Danish lion, who was in no way inclined to relinquish his prey until he had the answer he wanted.

"It depends on what kind ceremony and where you have it. If you want to invite friends to a reception, a feast to celebrate. If you need bride clothes-- And each state is different. Here it takes three days. In Nevada one need not wait at all. But, Tranum--"

"Where is Nevada? It is far?"

"No. Yes! I mean... Wait a moment. Let me sit up." Linden thrust the restraining hand aside and glared at her lover. "You really do choose your times, don't you?"

"Why are you distressed, Linden?"

"This is the most unromantic proposal I have ever heard!" "What does this mean? Un-romantic."

"It means-- It means that you haven't said one word about love or affection. You didn't bring me flowers! You--" Linden took a deep breath and let go of her exasperation. She needed to be calm. Logical. Tranum had just asked-- well, told-- her that he wanted to get married. This required some thought on her part, not hysterics or temper tantrums, however merited they were. Fate and Tranum were herding her in one definite direction and she wasn't at all certain that was where she wanted to go. Resistance required strategy; strategy required the exercise of calm logic. Havamal had that much right.

"Flowers? I will bring some at once. What kind should they be? There are nice purple ones in the garden." Tranum started to rise, but Linden snagged him with a firm grip.

"The flowers can wait."

"Okay." Tranum sounded relieved as he settled back onto the bed. "I will get them later."

"I think we better talk about this idea of marriage a little bit more."

"Talk?" Tranum was frowning again. "About what? I will look on my maps and find Nevada."

"Never mind Nevada. I know where it is. We need to talk about why you want to get married," Linden said firmly as she settled against the head-board. "You are with child, Linden." The voice was pleased, but the words sounded brutal to her unprepared ears.

"We don't know that!" she objected at once, feeling herself pale.

"I know it," Tranum said firmly, pleased that he'd foiled the evil device and made a child with his Valkyrie.

Linden stared at him in consternation. She knew it, too, but wasn't ready to admit it just yet. That made things between them seem too inevitable, and she had quite frankly had enough of being led around by capricious Fate. She didn't want to be married because of a maybe baby. She wanted to hear that she was loved--

Any way, how did he know that she was pregnant? she thought franticly. It was just guessing on his part. That was all it could be so early on.

"Well, I don't know it," she lied. "And even if I was, that isn't necessarily a good reason to get married."

Tranum was frowning heavily now. "That is a very good reason to marry."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I want more from a marriage than just a name for a baby that might not even be there."

Tranum stiffened. "You do not want my name for our child?" "I didn't say that!"

"Is it worldly goods you crave?" Tranum demanded. "Must I bring a bride-price to your brother?"

"No!" Linden glared at him for a moment and then sighed. She did not want to baldly enumerate what was desired in her future spouse, but her love was so far off track he was never going to find his way without some sort of an emotional map.

How could any twentieth century male be that dense?

What she needed to think about was if she should provide some guidelines and encouragement. It might be a very big mistake. Possibly the biggest mistake of her life. She had no way of knowing if Tranum, raised as he had been by some old, hard-line Viking, was capable-- or would acknowledge the concept-- of love. Romantic love. And without it, she refused to marry. She would not tie herself for life to man that couldn't love. No matter what she felt or what Fate provided in the way of incentives... At least not this morning.

"Do you feel that I would not protect you?" Tranum pursued doggedly down the wrong path. "That I am Amish and would not be here to defend you. That I would be off--"

The frown lifted suddenly from his craggy face and was replaced with one of his rare smiles. Linden felt her heart contract.

"I forgot that I had not told you about my decision," he said sheepishly.

"Decision?" she asked, transfixed by the happiness in Tranum's eyes. It was enough to arrest an enfeebled heart. Her own was barely functioning and she was quite fit.

"I am not returning to Denmark, Linden. I am staying here with you." The voice matched his smile in cheerful pleasure. "So you need not fear that you and our children will be alone! We shall all be together in California, just as you wished us to be."

Tranum leaned over and kissed her quickly and then rolled out of bed. He seemed to think that that concluded their discussion. Linden was too stunned to move.

He was staying in California!

"I must rise now and see to the boat. I do not want the men of learning to be out there alone. They will do something careless and crush themselves with the logs." Even this gruesome observation sounded happy through the folds of the shirt he pulled over his head. "I will speak to Rolf about other marriage customs and bring you flowers at the morning meal-- Can we have blueberry muffins again?"

"Certainly," she answered weakly. She had muffins in the freezer. "Tranum--"

"At breakfast, pretty Linden. We will speak more after Rolf has told me more about your customs. I just did not want you to be concerned about the baby. You have been too worried of late, never playing as you used to. I do not like to see your unhappiness. But now all will be well."

"Tranum!" Her voice grew weaker as Tranum became more loquacious and blithe.

"Linden, I think the men of learning are going to remain with us for several days. Rolf says that they must publish the story about the boat or they will perish. Their school is very strict about this!" Tranum reached for his jeans. His muscles flexed in fascinating patterns under his tanned, scarred flesh.

"They will also bring great fame and wealth to the inn, if they do not kill themselves first. I do not think they are at all skilled with tools. But then Odin says, The halt can ride, the handless can heard, the deaf can fight. A blind man is better than a corpse. A corpse is no good to anyone. Which is true," he added after a moment's reflection. "So I shall teach these men to work. Tonight you will show me the English letters."

"Tranum!" Linden finally found her voice, but the door had already closed behind him with a small slam. She could hear his footsteps as he galloped down the long hall calling out to someone to leave the wet tarps alone.

Linden looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Now what was she suppose to do? Tranum paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead and the handle of the ax he was using on the oak keel. Rolf, Petr and Tabby were all busy sawing the wood into one inch planks for the bottom nine courses of strakes, though Rolf occasionally stopped working in order to use his camera, which would draw pictures like the ones in his boat books. He said that with the help of the men of learning, they would have a book of their own.

Reminded that the men of learning were still about, Tranum took a moment to look around for them. A quick glance showed that Borg and LLewellyn were safely sidelined with a small splitting mall, hacking up juniper root for lashings, and Faust was safely busy writing in his small, paper book.

Edred was using the rough scraper with great care, stopping to compare his piece or board with the one Tranum had made earlier. The wind would be faster to wear the excess wood away, but Tranum didn't complain. A lifetime of skills could not be learned in a day, as he was finding while working on four-eighty-six. He would be patient.

Linden hadn't been outside yet that morning, he knew, as he had been watching for her. But that might be because she was busy preparing the morning meal.

Or it might be because she was still thinking about their conversation. Tranum frowned. The idea of Linden thinking was not a pleasant one.

Tranum, though not an expert on the female mind, did know his Valkyrie well enough to tell when she was troubled, and for some reason Linden was definitely troubled by the idea of marriage. Perhaps because another man had promised a wedding and then betrayed her.

It wasn't that she had said that she wouldn't marry him, but it did not escape his notice that she hadn't said she would either.

This not only troubled but also confused him. What would he do if she refused? Tranum did not want to think about that. Linden could not refuse. She was pregnant with his child. They were lovers. She belonged to him. For once, she would cease her playing and do as she was bidden! Personal freedoms could only extend so far.

But just in case, perhaps he would consult Rolf about some of the rituals used in courtship at Club Valhalla. He did not wish to offend his Valkyrie's sensibilities and make her any more obstinate about the fact that they were to wed.

"Hey, Tranum!" Rolf greeted him as he pulled the fresh cut plank over to the pile of new lumber Edred was scraping. It was growing quickly. "You taking a rest?"

"Rolf, what is the custom for courting a bride?" he asked absently, while wiping the handle of his axe. "Linden said that I should bring her flowers."

"Courting a...? Well, let's see. Flowers are good. Roses especially are good. And um... A ring, if you're serious. There should be an engagement ring." Rolf wiped the sweat from his brow. The morning was warm and muggy and they were all working with unaccustomed vigor. Everyone except Faust and Tranum would be sporting fresh blisters daily until some calluses formed.

"Engagement ring?" Tranum prompted.

"A promise ring." Rolf's eyes focused as he began to pay attention to the conversation. "It shows an intent to marry later on. And then there is another ring at the wedding."

"Oh. Well, I shall have to use the forge after breakfast."

"After breakfast?... The forge? You're going to make a ring?" Rolf blinked and lowered his voice. "For Linden?"

"Of course for Linden," Tranum said impatiently. "Who else would I marry? Now, Linden said that we could get married in three days in California. Today in Nevada. Where is Nevada?"

"Uh-- the next state over. It's about a five hour car trip."

"Five hours?"

"Half a day-- Um. Tranum, Linden said that she would marry you?" Rolf asked.

"Not yet. She will, though, and soon. She is with child."

"What?" Rolf blinked some more. Obviously he was quite surprised by the news. He had not been nearly as shaken by the knowledge that Tranum was seven hundred years old as that Linden was to have a baby.

Perhaps Rolf had given up all hope of finding a suitable husband for his sister. It would take a strong man to marry a Valkyrie, and from what Tranum had seen, strong men were rare in Club Valhalla.

"She is with child," Tranum repeated calmly. "So, we will marry in three days, or go to Nevada."

"Wait. Three days." Rolf sat down on the huge oak trunk. "It's not that simple. You have to get a blood test--"

"What test of blood? Who do I fight?"

"No one," Rolf answered, feeling rather helpless as he tried to explain. "It is an examination of the blood for disease. And you can't do that until tomorrow any way. After the blood test, then you apply for a license--"

"I have a license," Tranum pointed out. "The one for Leif Kirstensen. And my blood is very healthy. I have no illness."

"No. This is a marriage license--"

"And this takes three days?" Tranum sighed. "This is too long. Tomorrow Linden and I will go to Nevada."

"What! You and Linden are getting married?" Tabby had dragged over the next strake to the pile. She was staring, dumb-founded. "She didn't say anything to me."

"I don't think Linden knows," Rolf confessed, but there was a definite twinkle in his eye. He chuckled suddenly. "Bet she won't like the idea either."

"Well, of course not. She hasn't had time to get a dress or plan a wedding." "It may be a little urgent. Tranum says that Linden is ah... expecting."

"Expecting what?" Tabby demanded. Then: "Oh. I see. Well she can't be very--"

"Danish please," Tranum requested firmly. "So. I will bring flowers to breakfast. Then I will make a ring--"

"You could just buy one," Rolf suggested. "It would be faster.

"At outletmall?"

"Uh... maybe. Tabby do they sell rings at the outlet mall?"

"Yeah. There's a jeweler there, but--"

"I have no money," Tranum pointed out. "It would be easy to melt this." He gestured at his amulet.

"Absolutely not!" Rolf said firmly. "And you do too have money. At least, Leif does. We'll have to go to the bank and I'll show you how to use the ATM. Something will have to be done about the signature card eventually, I guess..."

"The magic, money machine?" Tranum's face cleared. "Very well. We shall go after breakfast and buy a ring."

"Sure," Rolf agreed. "But wouldn't it be best to wait until Linden says she'll marry you. I mean, this is a little fast."

"Is that how it's done? An agreement, then a ring?" Tranum asked. "This seems very slow. Perhaps I better get an agreement now."

"Well, sometimes... Tabby, does the man give the girl a ring before or after he asks her to marry him?"

"After. But if he's confident he'll have it with him so that he can give it to her the minute she says 'yes'."

Rolf translated.

"Then we will get the ring," Tranum said firmly, as he hoisted his axe and prepared to go back to work. "Linden would look nice in amber and it is very lucky."

"Diamonds. Diamant" said Tabby, recognizing that much of the conversation and knowing the word for her favorite gem in Danish. "Brides like diamonds."

"Amber," he reiterated stubbornly. "Diamonds are ugly and hard to shape. Also they bring bad luck."

"Not around here! Diamonds are very pretty. And nothing says "I love you' like diamond." Tabby argued.

"Uh--" Rolf tried once more to insert himself into the conversation. "I don't know if Linden will agree to going to Nevada."

"Linden will marry me," Tranum assured Rolf, then added under his breath: "She must."

Club Valhalla

Copyrighted (c) 2002 Melanie Jackson

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