Vildeskvida (Lay of Vilde)
My parents, they say, were blessed by my birth at an entrance of a Monastery, water pouring out of the hand of the gigantic statue above, marking it as the building they claim it to be, as my mother held onto my father in pain.
From pain one comes, in pain they must live. The words were a daily affirmation for me, as the freezing wind of caves swept through our Kingdom, Thurrvatnheima – Land of Dry Lake. Every day, I walked by the Monastery, the statue so tall its head was covered from most locations in the kingdom, and watched the water droplets fall, waiting whether one would bless me or not. My family’s house was in the lower levels, not wealthy enough to be built into the stone itself, but important enough to have a spot near the Lake.
The Kingdom itself was surrounded by flowing water, one of the few that existed in an environment like this, and the biggest one among them. I used to swim daily, but I was never allowed to stray too far, for there was no light as you swam on, and the creatures were more and more hostile. I always longed to swim until I would reach the end of the cavern, where the stone cut off. We couldn’t see the end itself, but everyone knew it’s there. The water called to me.
It has always called to me. And it was no surprise, when I was of age, nearing my forties, I was drawn to the Monastery. The Hand of the statue no longer dropped water. And soon, I would find out it was a sign.
The Monastery went up in the rock, reaching a vast space unoccupied by any kingdom, no longer belonging to Thurrvatnheima. I learned of the Four Monasteries, each residing in the bigger Kingdoms, connected in the upper levels where only the Monasteries reached, tunnels narrower and tighter than the official Trade and Transport Routes. No cart nor wagon would fit, and only trained animals that would carry supplies were allowed in. Monks are trained to sustain, and to endure, and to pass between the monasteries in small groups efficiently.
My kingdom’s population was dwarven for the most part, but the Monastery’s occupants were from all corners of Nidavellir. They said I could choose and find out which element I favoured, which one favoured me in return, and after that, which one I felt stronger connection to. I knew I wouldn’t have to take the trip to go to a different Monastery. Water was in me, and water I would help flow. And so, I stayed.
Joining meant for many a cut off from their old families, either abandoned under the Hand of Restless Statue, hoping the monastery would take care of a couple’s child when they couldn’t, or abandoning their family for personal reasons, or given as a tithe to the monks for a favour they performed in the past. I knew I would still meet my parents, whenever I’d leave for business or on free days.
Meditation in the Monastery was challenging, the artificial water pumps and automated aqueducts always pretending to flow as the river at the edge of every room and the biggest artificial river in the main hall never made me feel like home, where the real Rivers were.
I learnt to center myself nevertheless, whether with the fake flow, or more easily and importantly, when I snuck out to sit at the edge of the roof of my childhood home, listening to the flowing water, hearing the echo of distant waves, the bubbles being let out by the animals and fish inside.
Then, I was ready for the pilgrimage, they said. I was not adult yet, according to the dwarven monks, as I hadn’t reached even fifty years. Many halflings were barely half my age, while gnomes would be in the same boat as me. Goblins have short lifespans, and I have indeed only seen one in our Monastery, already an elder, though younger than me. Our Monastery was not known for its diversity, as I’d soon learn. And so, I went with two other people, both younger than me. I had hoped I’d go alone, but my training was not done alone, and neither would be anything else.
The first monastery we arrived at was the one of the Cracked Earth, above the Kingdom of Ljossheima – the Land of Light. The Monastery was not much different from ours, I saw the similarities, other than the ground itself. There was no rock, no stone, but grass everywhere. The wet land under our feet was cold, but refreshingly so. They grew small trees and bushes at the edges of the main Hall and each room, just like we had our rivers.
The kingdom itself, overlooked by the Cracked Statue, was like a door to a different world for me. The houses were not carved into the stone, nor were they built out of stone like ours, instead burrow-looking, above ground covered in grass and moss. There were spaces dedicated for gardens and small fields, each serving a couple of houses before new set of burrows started. On the sides, there were tunnels separated by vines of willow trees, each leading into a small neighborhood where the residents lived when they were not taking care of the agriculture. And in the middle, most importantly, a glowing yellow-golden crystal. It shone like the Sun must in other realms, I thought.
My Kingdom, as I’ve been told, never sold to other kingdoms, only to sustain us. Ljossheima did. They supplied exotic foods and on occasions plants and trees to other kingdoms, having plenty of rich soil for themselves and many others. I rarely met with a race other than halflings while doing my tasks, lending a helping hand where the Monastery required me to. The edges of the Kindgom where the Crystal did not reach were covered in artificial light formed thanks to a dedicated planting of a flower that attracts light itself, and lightbugs that fly around it, forming clear but always shimmering lines showing pictures representing history of the Kingdom.
Or so I thought. The more I studied them, the more nonsensical they seemed to me. The paintings weaved by the light of the flowers showed fields – fitting, I thought – but also the sky, and the sun, not just the Crystal. The Crystal, which had no name, for it was The Crystal and nothing else could come even close to it, was rarely shown. I found this weird, however mentioning it to the inhabitants was rude beyond our teachings.
I noticed, after a year of living there, the Cracked Statue had its hand full of dirt, plants growing out of it healthily. It seemed to not change in my time there. I remembered our own Restless Statue, water absent. The pilgrimage moved on.
Next, leaving one of my companions who’d found their home in the Monastery of Cracked Earth, the two of us left and travelled further – reaching hot hall of Monastery of Freezing Fire.
The main Hall was dark, covered in soot to an untrained eye, such as mine was when I arrived, and the ground was hot to touch, but not unbearable. The Monastery resided above the Kingdom called Adsláheima, the land of the First Forge. I felt ever so closer to home, in a Kingdom clearly designed by my people, dwarven architecture ever so apparent despite the change of style.
They said this kingdom was the one Nidavellir was known for, and where every guest from another realm would stay, for the Kingdom itself was ever so growing, and ever so expanding – and in the middle, right where you would expect for a palace with chieftans ruling with an iron hand to be, there was a district cut off by the rest. The Trade, some would call it. Trading Hub, others. Center of the Trade, another. I’d learn soon enough that everyone I’ve asked, they simply translated the same name from their own language. It had no name, and yet dozens of them. It’s where the products and constructions of the First Forge – and many others after her – would be traded, like the name suggests.
The Forges themselves, I couldn’t see on my first few days. Soon, as the tasks given to me became harder and harder, I’ve found the city had more than one layer. Beneath the crust, deeper underground, the heat rose and the true Fire was there. The cold never left, after all this time, the Goddess would not look away from our realm, and yet the glowing fiery liquid heated up the machinery exactly how they needed it to.
The machinery, sturdy and cold iron held together by massive chains, would more often than not be made to improve digging into the rock, making caves to travel even to the smaller cities outside of the Kingdoms, and the safety within. Many weapons were invented here.
Some days, the heat would get into my head, and I would see water. The magma itself, blue and refreshing, exactly how I remember my home. The months spent there felt welcoming, though loud and chaotic. The inner City was ever so scary, and the forges underneath were overwhelming. I would’ve stayed, were I not afraid I’d mistake the Muspell-lava for my home-water and touch it just once.
The Freezing Statue below the Monastery, I’d notice on my last day, was holding out a hand, just like all of them. Above it, endlessly burning blue fire shone, bright and strong.
I left alone. My companions had found their new homes, from which they would travel again, in hopes of returning again to where they truly belong. I knew, deep inside, I was headed all the way home as well, to the first Monastery to ever loom over me. But there was another one on my way. And anything could happen.
The Monastery of Flowing Wind, above the Kingdom of Gloáheima, the Land of Shine and Glimmer. The air was ever so colder again, and the Monastery welcomed me with clean and open space at the Main Hall, no doors visible that would lead to personal rooms, and many openings in the walls with wind flowing through them. Not unlike other Monasteries, but still with more emphasis on the ease of it, many caves leading out were carved in places where people without our training would have a hard time jumping into.
And the Kingdom below, very dark under the globe of its carved walls and ceiling, glowing with small pieces of precious stone, forever shining with dim blue light. I might’ve never seen the Night Sky at that time, but I would’ve imagined it must’ve looked like this. The ‘Stars’ – as the residents called them – were not placed there by them, but formed naturally in the stone, and were sacred to the people living there.
Not so sacred underneath, I’ve found. This place housed many great minds, not the technical and sturdy kind like Adslaheima, but the theoretical and mystical. The most notable building, almost as tall as the Rock Sky itself, was home to many Scholars and Teachers, studying the effects of these lights and applying them to new magical experiments and spells. My time here was uneventful, as I’ve learned these things take time and patience, like still water. I was not out of place, mindfulness was one of my strong virtues, however I could not help in a meaningful way to experience something worth staying for.
It was a land of opportunity, the glowing flora, marking every street in its own unique light, could mean a new discovery each day, and yet each day you simply waited for the next one.
The Flowing Statue below the Monastery held its hand out, as I had expected it to. I could not see anything special it was holding. I watched it often, waiting for something to happen, as everyone did for their own projects. Elder monks of the Flowing Wind did not speak of the Statue, and I did not have the courage to ask yet.
Until I saw the power the Hand harnessed. A stray lizard, a small pet escaped or living in the dark tunnels, wandered up there. I stopped in my tracks, watching the beast approach the hand, barely visible. And soon, as I attempted to figure out where it had disappeared, I saw it fall, landing right at the doors of the Monastery. The body was no longer there, as by the time I ran towards it, it was shattered – like a cube of ice.
I knew then. Every single Statue holding the Monasteries above the Kingdoms had its purpose, and showed the people the force my people were. Except ours.
I returned home, to Monastery of the Restless Water, ever so restful. The water coursing through hand-made rivers flowed in the thinnest line, barely scraping by to even attempt to resemble a river. Our Hand, dry as a rock. Our Lake’s levels, lower than before. And my childhood home, gone. Anger flowed through me. The highest of the Kingdoms, closest to the surface, and shunned by everyone else.
There was only one way to calm myself. I ran to the nearest edge of the Kingdom, where inevitably the Lake would start, and threw myself into the water.
Underneath the waves, below the surface, I could not hear anything but my own heartbeat. And I hoped, I prayed and I wished. Then, the water answered.
I found myself dry, standing on snow. I frantically looked up, searching for the stone. There was a translucent bubble around me, and above it, grey blur. The small cots and houses around me were of a kind I’d never seen before, elegant and small, only a hint of pattern lined below the roofs, all covered in snow. As I walked through them, I saw charred apparitions, tall and slender all of them, none in my height. They stood unmoving, as if not aware of anything. As I looked at them, I saw they were burnt to crisp, then frozen in place. All dead.
I walked further, into a building that did not look like a house, but I had never seen anything like it. Big rooms, full of wooden chairs, decorated with now burned carpets and tapestries along the walls, showing images I could not see through the soot. Until I found one room, small and secluded, only one small chair covered in fur. And on it, a ring.
I studied it. It had a globe at the top made out of glass, and inside tiny buildings, covered in snow. I couldn’t help but think it resembled the village I just walked through. I held the ring, and I felt compelled to do it again. I wished.
I wished for my home kingdom to be prosperous again. I wished for the Monks of water to not be the forgotten, shunned kind. I wished for our Monastery to be the greatest one. I wished for my home to be as glorious as it always was in my memories. Just one wish to come true.
I opened my eyes. In the chair, I saw a figure I recognized, as everyone did, but rarely thought directly of. The grey-blue dark skin, blonde hair, blue robes, belts and the symbols of an Ice God. I looked at her nervously. There were water droplets flowing down her hair, and on her face, playing with the light, shining on her forearms’ runes.
“A wish, you say?” her deep voice broke the silence, snapping me out of my paralyzed stance. I nodded. “Then one you shall receive.”
She snapped her fingers, water splashing around. I had not known what I signed up for. “And one for me, Vilde.”
The hand that snapped a second ago extended to me, and I took it. I’d have done anything, I realized, in return. She took me closer, not as tall as I expected her to be, and not as imaginary as I thought. She was really there, and her visage adjusted to mine. Her cold, moist lips brushed against mine, her cold hand holding my back, pulling me closer, another one gently brushing my beard, I lost myself in the water, as I’d always had.
My wish granted, the Hand of the Restless Statue poured water down onto the main entrance, blessing each person who passes. And I, the Head of the Monastery of the Restless Water, with new-found powers, would take it even further. The city under my protection would be called Asjagröf, under the Goddess’ protection.
Vilde Loghorgdottir
she/her/hers
Vilde is a dwarf monk of Four Elements (specialized in water), Warlock of the Wish-Giver Goddess (marid), Elder monk of Monastery of Restless Water, Water Queen of Nidavellir, Hand of the Goddess.
She was born under the Monastery's Statue, its water flowing on her as her mother went into labour by surprise. She has felt blessed by the water her entire life, and when the time came, she joined the Monastery. Beautiful underground world of Nidavellir is divided into four kingdoms, each with their Monastery as leading Temple of the Goddess. The Kingdoms are Thurrvatnheima, Dry Lake Kingdom where Monastery of Restless Water is, Ljóssheima, Kingdom of Light where Monastery of Cracked Earth is, Adsláheima, Kingdom of the First Forge, and its main city called simply The Hub in various languages, where Monastery of Freezing Fire is, and Gloáheima, Shimmering Kingdom where Monastery of Flowing Wind is.
Vilde had to help in each Kingdom and each Monastery to finish her monk training, and if she would prefer another Monastery, she would stay there, though she knew ultimately, she would return to Restless Water. She witnessed and lived through various experiences, and found herself safe in water, in the Lake surrounding her home, she found the voice of the Goddess, and she wished her monastery would be better. A wish she was granted, by the Wish-Giver, and she rose to rule both the Monasteries and the Realm itself.
Kingdoms of Nidavellir:
- In Thurrvatnheima: Dwarves are the richest and most common of the races. Dwarven language is the official language of Nidavellir. The architecture of Dry Lake is dwarven and beautiful, craftsmanship showing in it, as they built their houses on the surrounding walls and into heights too.
- In Ljóssheima: Halflings and Gnomes take care of agricultural fields and animals in the city marked by massive Glowing Crystal in the middle, acting as the Sun.
- In Adsláheima: The goblins, the faerie, the warm loving races of Nidavellir live in the Forge Kingdom, where artificers and blacksmiths work on creating the hottest new technology, sold out thanks to the Trading Hub.
- In Gloáheima: Light sensitive races live in here, in Kingdom whose shiny crystals surrounding it make it look like a night sky.
- Surrounding Areas: Every Kingdom has many tunnels and hallways that lead to smaller villages, where you might be able to find a small travelling village of drows, the only ones who survived in such big number. They were saved by the Goddess Freyja.
