Villemann: "VILL-eh-mahn"   ~~~  Magnill: "MONG-nill"

Magnill stood in the center of a storm. Her mother and aunt and her own housegirl decked her out in her new embroidered gown, a hanging-apron of the finest bleached linen, and dyed calf-skin slippers.

They combed her tresses, reaching like spun silk past her waist. This last day she would wear it free and unbound for all to see. This last day, as a maiden, flaunting its golden glory.

The women worked in grim silence. They could hear, down below in the courtyard, the menfolk jesting and laughing, horses stamping, the fiddler tuning his strings. Magnill could pick out Villemann's voice, deeper than the rest, booming like a waterfall in full flood.

She shuddered. Not at thought of the man. At thought of the torrent.

Magnill's mother dabbed at the corner of the bride's eye. "Let's not give in to fear," the older woman murmured. "He says he'll overcome the curse. Perhaps this day will end in rejoicing!"

"Please, can I not just stay a maiden, living here with you and Papa?"

Her mother took her shoulders in a firm grip. "We need to try. We need an heir, Papa and I. You need children to carry you through old age."

Magnill burst free and turned away. "There will be no old age for me, not if I set out on this ill-fated trek."

"He's taken every precaution," her mother said to her back.

"No matter how you try to guard," Magnill chanted beneath her breath, "no matter how you fend, the fate that the runes decree will win in the end."

"Come now. Time for the bridal crown."

Magnill scrunched her eyes shut as the circlet settled around her brow. Fingers adjusted the position, brushed tresses behind her ears. The dangling silver ornaments tinkled at every touch.

"A mirror," the aunt said. "Come now, look, and smile at the sight."

Magnill took a long breath and opened her eyes. Even in the dim light of the bower, the silver crown glinted. The dangles hung from a wide filigreed brim. She touched one dangle, set it spinning. She heaved out another sigh, braced her shoulders, looked in the polished bronze of the mirror.

Anguish stared back in the reflection of her eyes. She twisted her lips into the ghost of a smile. "Let's just do it and be done with it," she whispered. She turned to the ladder down.

The men whooped and whistled when Magnill stepped out into the morning light, all but Villemann who stood still and straight as a spear. He towered head and shoulders over the other fellows, though none of them lacked for height.

He said not a word. Delight and gladness shone in his icy blue eyes. The mountain breeze stirred his fiery mane of red-gold hair, shining in the sun like flames.

She felt her cheeks burn with a blush. She dropped her gaze. What a joyful day this would be – if not for the curse.

(to be continued... part 1 of 4)

from the Norse ballad "Villemann og Magnill"